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covetyou · 3 months

Text

stupid cupid

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected P in V, a few ass slaps, sex toys (butt plug and a dp dildo), anal play, anal sex (with a dildo), double penetration, creampie, vague fluff and emerging feelings (gross), the wings stay ON. word count: 5.2k summary: Joel makes a return to your home, this time with another gift to give. Will you be his Valentine?

A/N: he's here. he's back. baubles joel, big bawl joel, the holiday king himself. and yes, yet again something that probably shouldn't be a series is becoming a loose-fit series because I just can't quit.

I guess you can all be my Valentine's if you'd like and we can smooch and hold hands and stuff, idk (I love you 💛) gorgeous V day divider by @saradika-graphics

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You didn't expect to scream the moment you entered your bedroom after a long day at work.

Of course, you had wanted to scream all day. First, when you spent the morning fighting with a piece of software that just did not want to work. Then, when you watched your colleagues trickle out of the building well before 5pm, all on their way to romantic dates, while you were stuck in your seat making up for your - and their - lost time this morning. And when you finally stumbled from the building at 8pm, only to sit in traffic for another fucking hour? You may just have let a furious squeal escape your throat as you gripped the steering wheel.

As you finally pulled into your driveway, the only things on your mind were a hot shower and takeout food.

The first part had gone without a hitch. Mostly.

Stripping off your work clothes before you'd even got to the bathroom, you hadn't noticed a single thing different about your home. As you tossed your clothes into the hamper, nothing was amiss. Stepping under the hot stream of water, you felt totally at peace for the first time that day. There was a kind of serenity to be found in your own bathroom that didn't exist anywhere else. No, nothing was unusual at all.

And then you'd loosely wrapped a towel around you, not bothering to dry yourself, and crossed the short distance across the hall to your bedroom. You weren't to know you never closed the door this morning when you left - that was 14 hours ago, afterall. Sunset had long since been and gone, so how were you to see anything, or anyone, where it shouldn't be until you sleepily flicked the light on after closing the door behind you.

So, naturally, when your brain finally registered DANGER - INTRUDER you screamed, almost dropping your towel in the process.

And that's where you still are, locked to the spot, fight or flight truly fucking off from your mind entirely, as you stare straight ahead.

There's a man on your bed. A very familiar man. His hulking figure splayed across it like some kind of fucking renaissance painting, naked as the day he was born, except for the fairy wings strapped to his back with elastic and... is that a bow and arrow? And a pacifier?

"Santa Joel?"

Joel rolls his eyes, pulling the pacifier from his mouth with a pop.

"I ain't Santa. Does this look like Santa to you?" he says, with a sweeping broad gesture down his body. He decidedly does not look like Santa. You're not sure what he looks like, and you're not sure you care when you can't help but notice he's at half mast already. Dragging your eyes from his crotch, you look at his face, somehow sweet and angelic even with his dick out.

"Okay, well... what are you?"

Looking at you in disbelief, he slaps the pacifier down onto the bed before swinging his legs over the edge to sit upright. Only, now you're not so sure it's a pacifier. It looks like a - but why was he sucking on it?

"Ain't it Valentine's Day? I'm Cupid, stupid."

"Cupid Joel?"

"Cupid Joel. It really that difficult to work out?" With a lopsided grin he picks up the bow, miming shooting you, before resting his elbows on his knees. The soft trickle of water down your body feels more and more like you're melting by the second. A practical stranger like Joel shouldn't have been able to do this to you the first time, but the fact he was here again, charming and suave, despite the nudity and criminal activity, told you all you needed to know. You were painfully and woefully attracted to him and you would do just about anything to have a night with him again.

"Well, Cupid Joel, you broke into my house. Again."

He ignores you, lounging back on your bed and spreading his knees wide, picking up the - yep, that's definitely a butt plug - again and sucking it into his mouth. Removing it with a flourish, he looks you up and down, a question in his eyes before looking to his own cock, now much harder than it was a moment ago.

"Different guy, you said that was Santa Joel." You can see him holding back a laugh, and you'd be tempted to wipe the smirk from his face if you weren't rooted to the spot. "Anyway, that guy told me he didn't see any pictures when he was here, guessed you didn't have a Valentine. Figure everyone deserves some lovin' on the big day," he says with a shrug and a quirk of his mouth. "So, here I am. Your very own Cupid, if you'll have me, 'course. Don't gotta stay, I can leave if you want me to."

You didn't want him to leave. He'd broken into your house again, and you were exhausted, but seeing him lie there, naked in your bed with the evidence of his little dress up game strewn around him, stirred things in you. If he was willing to give you some lovin' then who were you to turn that down. You're only human, after all, and it is Valentine's Day.

So, you do the only logical thing in that moment and drop your towel without another thought.

"'Atta girl," Joel chuckles patting the bed beside him. "C'mere, got you a present."

Incredible, if slightly strange, sex with a stranger, and he bought you a present? Suddenly the day isn't feeling quite as shit as it was an hour ago, and damp and naked, you approach your bed. You're close enough to him now that you can smell him again, that soft oaky smell throwing you back to the twinkling lights of Christmas Eve. You didn't know any more about him now than you did that night, really. Though, truth be told, you hadn't tried too hard to find him. You had a good time, and the soft lit fantasy of Santa Joel was something you enjoyed exactly as it was. Unveil the man, and you threatened to ruin that fantasy. But a night with Cupid Joel? That could be a new fantasy altogether.

"S'not Christmas any more, don't remember ever having to sit on Cupid's knee to get a Valentine," you murmur, sitting back on your heels as Joel's large hand slides up your thigh. You watch as it moves from your knee to your hip and back again, fingers gently teasing your sensitive inner thigh on the way down. The only hands that had touched you since Christmas were your own, though you had spent night after night imagining his all over you. You were starting to think you'd fallen asleep at the wheel and this was all some wonderful stress dream.

But then he presses a soft kiss to your knee, the scratch of his facial hair rubbing just enough to let you know this is all very, very real and you'd very much like more of it.

"Ain't gonna make you sit on my knee for it. Might want you to sit on somethin' else though."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Real smooth, Cupid."

And then he's smiling up at you as he leans forward to kiss your thigh, then your belly, pushing you back with one large hand until you're laying beneath him, spread bare and open as he makes his way back down to your thighs.

It's so easy to get lost in it. The soft scratch of the scruff on his chin, rough fingertips moving gently across your thighs, soft lips pressing and sucking delicately on you, catching the last specks of water from your skin with each pass of his mouth. Your eyes drift closed just as his breath ghosts across your mound, another soft kiss soon following, and another, and another.

Until, blissfully, his soft mouth connects with your clit, tongue peaking out to swipe across the sensitive bud. It had been so long since anyone had gone down on you, long before you made the move to Texas last year, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Stuttering for a while, you're about to feebly mumble how good it feels, but all thoughts grind to a halt when he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning before softly releasing. You had never had a man moan eating your cunt before, and now here you were, fairly certain angels were real and you'd gone to heaven, taken there by Cupid Joel and his wings.

"You always this late home, or did you have a date that went to shit?" he mumbles around your clit. It's a small sneaky way that he asks, wanting clarification on something he was almost certain of but you had yet to confirm. There were no pictures in your house, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone in the picture.

Shaking your head, you gasp out a response. "Work - work went to shit. Ohh."

"Bad day?"

"Yeah, it - fuck, Joel."

It's then that you take your first opportunity to look down and see him between your legs. His hair looks even fluffier, his hands pushing your thighs open while his fingers pull you apart at the seams. His eyes closed, lashes fanned against his cheek, tongue softly lapping against your center, gusts of his hot breath billowing against your mound. He's beautiful.

And he's still in the fucking fairy wings.

A laugh primes itself, ready to explode out of you, but another firm lick sends you reeling, head hitting the mattress with a thud. Whatever he's doing to you, whatever this fucking day has done to you, you're going to come, and fast.

"Cu-Cupid Joel. Don't fucking stop."

Joel stops mid-lick, earning a frustrated moan from you, eyes widening from where he looks up between your thighs. "Already?" he asks in disbelief, noticing how quickly your legs and cunt have started to twitch.

"Stupid fucking cupid, don't stop, please."

His mouth finds your clit again and he's devouring you, lapping quickly against your cunt as your squirm into him, hips rocking your cunt against his tongue. Another day you'll wonder if it was his tongue or your movement that got you there, but right now all you know is the thick syrupy feeling in your veins as an orgasm quickly rockets through you, a strangled moan leaving your throat as you fist your sheets in your hands. You've muffled him, your thighs clamping around his head as he pushes further forward, tongue buried in your folds until you can't take it any more and you're desperately pulling away from him.

When you release your grip on his head, he gasps, cursing into the plushness of your thighs. Sitting up, he looks down at you, the bedroom light illuminating him from behind, making the wings glow on his back like your very own heavenly creature.

"Wanna see your present now?"

The fog in your head has barely cleared, your ears still fuzzy as you take in his words. Somehow a tongue on your pussy wasn't your Valentine's gift from Cupid?

"Wha - that wasn't it?"

"Nope."

"Is that it," you say, letting a thread of hope feed into your voice while you nod to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs.

"Not exactly, but you can have that too if you want it, darlin'."

You don't know what you expect, but Joel reaches over and picks the butt plug from where he'd discarded it on your bed earlier, and holds it out to you.

"Don't know if you're into it but," he holds the plug out to you, base first. The pink glass looks so delicate in his fingers, and it takes a twist of his hand for you to see it, but the heart shaped base of the plug soon becomes clear to you, brain foggy as it is, and you laugh, the sound bubbling out of your lips as your head tips back, laughing so hard you can feel your tits shake.

"You had that in your mouth."

Joel shrugs. "Better now than after it's been in your ass."

"Why're you so sure it's goin' into my ass?"

Got him, flashes through your mind when you watch his face drop. You don't let him suffer for long.

"I'm fucking with you. You're tellin' me you broke into my house but didn't go through my shit? I got three in the drawer over there."

"Three?!" he says in faux shock, rolling you over onto your front and grabbing at your ass cheeks. He pulls them apart, the cool glass in his hand pushing into your cheek as he tugs you open.

You shriek, swatting behind you as you laugh again. "Joel- what the fuck are you doing!?"

"Checkin' where you keep these three assholes."

"I'm lookin' at one asshole right now."

Now it's his turn to laugh, a deep rich sound that has your toes curling and your pulse sky rocketing, pulling you out of it with a gasp when he slaps a hand down on your ass only to watch it ripple with the impact.

"So, do you want it in?"

"Mhm, I have lube in the bedside table."

A rummage later, you wait, kicking your feet in the air, resting your chin in the cup of your palm. When he turns again, he sees you waving your ass from side to side, ready for him. Slick is coating your pussy, your upper thighs glossy with it too.

"That a present all for me?"

Pulling your cheeks apart again, he kisses each one, lightly nipping on the soft flesh as he does. And then, without much warning, he burries his tongue between your spread legs, licking a thick stripe from your clit to your asshole, groaning with every lick over your tight ring. Fisting the sheets, you press your face into the mattress. If he's going to keep doing this before he even fucks you, you're going to come again and fall asleep before he can get inside you.

"I thought this was a present for me, you're acting mighty excited back there."

"It is. Never said I wouldn't get anythin' outta it though."

A cool trickle of lube drizzles into your crack, quickly spread by Joel's large finger. He teases for a moment, circling your tight hole a little before gently pushing in.

"Fuck."

Moaning in agreement, you almost speak to agree, but then his finger is gently fucking your asshole and all words fail you. Coming just a moment ago did nothing to stop the need you had for this man, the feeling in your core growing tenfold as each moment passed.

"Fuck, Joel, put it in my ass and fuck me already."

The strangled noise from behind you startles you, and you look back for a second to see Joel's eyes pinched together and his head thrown back as his hand grips tightly around the base of his cock, wings falling forward over his shoulders as he desperately tries to relax himself.

"You can't say shit like that to me, darlin'."

"Then stick it in me, stupid."

Fingers slick with lube, he strokes the plug, before sliding the cold tip across your hole.

"Wanted go slow. Wanna watch you take it."

With a soft push, he presses the tip forward, watching as your hole accepts the cold tip with ease. This was always something you loved, even playing with your plugs by yourself when the feeling took you. It had been too long since anyone else had played with your ass, and you can't say you were too mad about Joel being the first to touch you there in so long.

The stretch is soft, and soon the bulb of the head pushes past your tight ring, making Joel hiss behind you as he watches you take it. He fucks you with it once, then twice, before pushing firmly, letting your ass take the entire length of the plug. Twisting it, he sits the heart upright, before leaning forward to kiss it. It's not often you get a man's face buried in your ass so, figuring it's karmic justice for the species, you push back into him, holding back a laugh when a small oomph escapes his lips when your ass collides with his face.

"Gonna tell Santa Joel you did that. No nice list for you."

"Then if I'm already on the naughty list, fuck me already. You promised me lovin'."

Wiggling your ass, you arch your back to expose your pussy to him even more. He hasn't so much as put a finger in you yet, and part of you is glad for it. You want to feel his cock pull you apart as it fills you, pushing past the ridge of the plug lodged in your ass. You want to feel stretched and full and ruined.

Joel seems to be on the same page, shuffling forward, dick in hand, sliding the tip through your slick folds. Catching on your entrance, he runs the tip of his dick across the plug where it's nestled inside you before pushing down, slipping into your empty hole.

And fuck is it tight. If it feels this good for you, the half-filled and stretched wide feeling of his cock in one hole and the plug in the other, you wonder how it must feel on his dick. You're wet, dripping really, soaking his cock and letting him in with ease, but there's the solid lump of the plug dragging along the top side of his cock as he pushes in.

Deciding he's going too fucking slow, too tentative when all you want is to be filled, you push back. In one swift rock you take him to the root, gasping and hitting the bed with your fists as he bottoms out, his own fingers digging into you flesh harshly.

"Sh-fuck, fuck."

Stopping, you almost pull away, worried you might have hurt him, but his grip stops you. Before you can turn or question him, he's pulling back, slamming in hard again, groaning when you take him completely.

If Santa Joel destroyed you, Cupid Joel is going to wreck you entirely. And you welcome it.

He's fucking you steadily in no time, relishing in the sound of your moans getting higher and higher in pitch with each pound.

Your knees buckle first, planting you face first in your sheets. Joel tries to pull you up, but his own knees are slipping, dragged down by the grip of your cunt on his cock. Giving in, he crowds over you, pumping deep into you despite the tangle of limbs you've became in the last few seconds. Somewhere in the scuffle you've kicked the bow and arrow, listening as they clatter to the floor just as tangled as the two of you are.

He's warm, and sweaty, and heavy above you, holding just enough of his weight on his elbows to let you breathe. Making a few more shallow thrusts, he suddenly stills, nose breathing deep into your hair.

"Shit. Can't come yet. I got one more surprise for you," he pants into your ear, offering you a soft kiss to your shoulder before his weight shifts.

You want to grab him and hold him to you, beg him to come in you already, but he has other ideas and he's pulling out before you can grab him. "Ugh."

"Gimme a sec," he grunts from behind you. "Can't - hmfph - get it over - god damn it - my balls. There. Got it. Snug but, damn, look at that."

Looking behind you, you watch as he sways from side to side, looking down where his cock bobs between his legs. He's mesmerized, and soon so are you.

He's strapped another cock just below his own, the tapered black dildo just shorter than he is. It sits flush to his full balls, anchored to them by a thick ring, another wrapped around his length. Even with the sounds of his struggle, you're amazed he got it on so quickly.

"Don't have to take both but," and he shrugs - fucking shrugs all coy and uncertain as if he hasn't reached into the depths of your brain and pulled out your most desperate fantasy of taking two cocks at once.

"Didn't wanna spook you, but given you like gettin' your asshole played with," he says with a press to the plug still sat in your ass. "Worth finding out if you're into ass fuckin' too."

You were. Fuck yes, you were. You had your own collection of toys and plugs for a reason, but it had been a criminally long time since anyone had really fucked you there. Other than Joel, it had been a criminally long time since anyone had fucked you anywhere.

"If I say yes, what else are you gonna pull out from back there? You got a bag of tricks around here somewhere."

Joel gives you a toothy grin, stroking his hand over his slicked cock before sliding two fingers straight into you. "Tool bag is downstairs, but ain't got anythin' in there I'd like to put in here darlin', don't worry."

Fingers slipping slick and wet inside you, pressing firmly upward with help of the plug still lodged in your ass, you're rendered speechless again. Reaching out for him you hold his hand in place, fucking yourself on his fingers for a moment before reaching further toward him.

Joel gasps when your hand gently cups around his balls, the thick rings of the toy strapped around them making them seem even fuller with the press of the dildo into them. You roll reach one beneath your fingers, catching the dark look in his eyes.

"You like 'em, huh? Know you liked havin' 'em in here."

"Fuck. Thought about it so much since. Dreamed of you coming back to fuck me with them again."

"Tsk, ain't disappointing you, am I?"

"Joel, you have two cocks and you're threatening me with a good time. You couldn't disappoint me right now even if you tried. And you broke into my house. Again. Now, if you don't fuck my ass with either of the cocks you have there soon I'm going to do it myself," you say, fingers stilling on his balls, before you think again and add, "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart. C'mon now, lemme take this out. Can put it back in this needy hole after. That's it."

It's surreal, looking up at him as he gently tugs the plug out of your ass, offering you sweet murmurs of encouragement. You know nothing about him, save for his first name and penchant for dress up games. And yet, the desire you have for him is steadily creeping upward as time ticks on. Truthfully, you didn't even really remember what he looked like when you thought about him, fingers toying with your clit as you came to memories of Christmas eve. Low light and mind melting orgasms will do that to you. All you knew was his voice and the soft filthy way he fucked you. Now, getting a proper look at him without the shield of twinkling lights and that red jacket, you can truly appreciate him. He's fit, though you suspect he's never stepped foot in a gym a day in his life. He's soft too, in the way that strong sturdy things are soft. You want nothing more than to pull him into you, to press his softness against your own as he ruts into your holes, but that's decidedly not what this is. Whatever this is, between the mild crime and fucking, it isn't that sort of soft sweet thing.

You don't know how he's going to do it, which cock is going to take which hole, but you decide you don't care when he's leaning over you to press a soft kiss to your lips. When your legs wrap around him of their own accord it's all but decided, and he takes his cock in hand - his real one - and lines up with your dripping slit, pushing in slightly before fumbling below for the other. It takes a moment - the lubed up dildo slipping from his grasp as he huffs and tries, but fails, to slot it against you. Briefly tangling your fingers with his, you take over, positioning the toy at your ass, feeling it slip in a little already as he grinds his hips forward, desperate to be balls deep in you again. With both cocks poised and ready you moan, quivering and clamping your eyes shut at merely the thought of being fucked in both holes at once.

With one more press forward, Joel slides in, the glide of lube easing the dildo into your as as his cock reclaims it's place inside your pussy.

And fuck, you have never been so full, and Joel has never fucked something so damn tight. The space his cock would normally make is taken up by the dildo, fighting for position inside of you as he rocks gently, sliding in and out of you with gradually deeper movements. The deeper he presses, the more desperate your moans become, and you catch the hesitation in his face before he can move.

"Don't you fuckin' dare stop."

This time he doesn't, wordlessly pushing into you and filling both your holes to the brim as sweat trickles down his face. You want to lick it off him, to sink your nails into his back, wings be damned, to lick the salt from his skin and bite down into the the firm flesh at his neck. But the only thing you can do before he's fucking you in earnest is grab hold, careful to avoid snapping the elastic of his wings against his shoulders as he pounds forward. There's no candlelight and rose petals here, just the raw sound of skin slapping against skin, grunts heaving into the air as you pull yourselves into each other.

"Tell me how it feels," you rasp into his ear, watching the flap of wings over his shoulder. "Tell me how it feels fucking me with both of your cocks."

"Oh, shit, it's good. So good, baby. Someone's definitely goin' on the naughty list next Christmas. You likin' this? You likin' being fucking in the ass and pussy?"

A frantic nod is all you can manage as he starts hitting a spot in you you didn't know existed, building pressure in your cunt like never before.

"I know. You're just so full, ain't you. Take two dicks so well. Pulling me in so good."

Hoisting your legs over Joel hips, you grip around him, a loud moan bursting out of your chest as he fucks back down, deeper now at the new angle. This is it. This is how you die, you're sure of it.

"How close - How close are you. I think I'm gonna - fuck - die -AH!"

He stops grunting for a moment to force out a breathless "Am I hurtin'?"

It only takes one look at you for Joel to realize he's not hurting you at all. There you are, fucked all the way to oblivion and back, a chorus of angels screaming in your ears with each snap of his hips. You're going to come again, clit untouched and holes filled, a way you've never managed to before. You don't even know how it's happening, all you know is that suddenly your soul feels like it's being pulled straight from your bones, through the middle of you and out through your cunt and asshole at the hands of Cupid Joel himself. And then you're gushing, mind and pussy totally detached as you come, soaking his cock and your sheets.

"Yeah that's it," he grunts, his weight surrounding you once more as he pushes into your spasming holes over and over, chasing his own release. If it wasn't for the damn tight rings around his cock and balls he would've come already, but your moans in his ear and your fingers gripping his shoulders spur him forward.

"Joel."

"Gonna come. Gonna fuckin' - uh - come in your tight fuckin' pussy."

"Yes, yes, come in me, please, I can't, I'm gonna -"

Joel stiffens, hips stuttering as he gives you a few hard, shallow thrusts, before he explodes inside you, groaning so loud it makes your ears ring and cunt make one last attempt to clench around him. As much as you soaked him, he's just filled your cunt, cum pushing deep inside you with each spurt, locked in place by the fullness of the two cocks inside you. You collapse back, your ears still ringing and your limbs feeling soft and heavy.

This time you're certain black out for a moment.

But when you peel open your eyes, Cupid Joel is above you again, halo'd by the bright yellow light on your bedroom ceiling. His hair is damp, wet even, from sweat, a bead trickling down his neck and glittering in the light. And in his eyes there's concern, a worried pinch in his brow as he searches your face.

"You passed out -"

"- You're still here."

He rolls his eyes. "Way to make a guy feel special, sweetheart," he says with a cocky smile. "Just checkin' on you, but I can get goin' as long as you're okay."

You nood, the movement feeling as slurred as your speech. "You left. Last time. Saw you walkin'. Jus' wonderin'."

"Wait... you saw that? Shit, I thought you were asleep."

"No, wasn't 'sleep."

"You gonna sleep now?"

"No," you murmur with a nod, closing your eyes as you feel the last sweep of his hand down your neck, pulling a sheet over your limp form, just for you to mumble one last thing before the soft darkness takes you. "Balls... next time... please."

"You got it, darlin'."

It's an arduous journey to the bathroom when you wake up in the dead of night, remnants of cum trickling down your legs and thighs sticking together. Quickly cleaning yourself up, you check the house for signs of him, already knowing that he's long gone. You wonder how he left this time, whether he kept the wings on, whether he still had a second cock strapped to his own as he escaped into the darkness. For all you know, your cupid could have flown away on glittered fairy wings.

And then you're crawling back into bed, takeout long forgotten, any hunger you had satisfied in a different way than you expected. Somehow there's comfort in the wat patch you curl yourself around. Cupid Joel is gone from your house, but there are still traces of him here. The cum on the sheets, the ache between your legs and, as you reach to turn the light off and let darkness take you, the butt plug on your bedside table. Between the Christmas decorations stashed in a box in your closet and this plug, you were slowly amassing pieces of a man you didn't really know - gifts from a stranger that made you feel more at home in this place you'd moved to than anything else had managed to in ten months.

Tracing the outline of the heart with your finger, you stretch and snuggle back down into bed, letting exhaustion take hold and when you dream, you dream of flying.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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avis-writeshq · 3 months

Note

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever.

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead.

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche.

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk.

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters.

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things.

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug.

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.”

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his).

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights.

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight.

***

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

***

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in.

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door.

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there.

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features.

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face.

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

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minisugakoobies · 5 months

Text

Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no?

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye.

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate.

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb.

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide.

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch.

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that.

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.”

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through.

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light.

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do.

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.”

“I live here.”

“So that’s fine, then?”

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?”

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?”

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall.

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard.

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky.

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?”

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon.

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.”

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?”

You nod. The stranger hums.

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.”

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?”

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Fair.”

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off.

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?”

He raises an eyebrow, nods.

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks.

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?”

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.”

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.”

“Thanks for the tokes.”

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute -

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?”

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative.

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.”

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.”

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.”

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.”

“And I need that?”

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window.

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away.

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner.

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to.

“Again?”

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight.

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages.

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick.

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?”

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way.

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!”

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.”

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San.

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in.

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace.

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.”

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares.

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his.

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?”

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts -

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door.

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag.

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?”

“A brownie.”

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?”

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door.

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half.

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite.

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to.

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?”

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.”

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.”

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.”

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now.

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.”

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat?

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.”

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.”

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.”

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof.

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him?

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?”

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.”

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment.

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.”

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you.

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before.

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation.

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong.

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle.

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?”

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.”

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation.

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again.

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used.

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit.

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again.

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it.

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire.

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips.

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?”

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul.

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss.

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out.

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!”

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell.

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks.

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad.

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!”

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly.

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before.

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away.

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative.

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly.

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back.

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core.

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights.

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know.

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.”

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble. “As soon as you tell me your name.”

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!”

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time.

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting.

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure.

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then -

He stops.

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch.

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!”

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.”

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it?

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs.

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist.

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?”

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin.

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.”

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary:

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over.

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth.

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly.

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.”

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word.

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name.

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan.

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face.

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.”

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth.

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.”

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while.

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more.

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was.

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?”

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile.

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?”

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

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aaagustd · 24 days

Text

room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parents Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way.

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's departure.

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs.

His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he tends to enjoy a nippy pre-spring breeze.

When he approaches the exit, his energy is almost completely drained. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge, and the wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely have him alert.

Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idly while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public.

Only authorized staff are allowed on the premises. Still, even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Fortunately, most of the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless. However, he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position.

Sport's 5 comprises five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. These are mainly retired sportsmen and women who still love the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his input and opinions, and his firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see.

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. It can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car, wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start. The sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention, and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With only headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow, and they aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he.

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he exits his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days.

Still, everyone is captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less about his appearance. The real attention grabbers are the wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it offers.

He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count the number of occupants in there on one hand, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He wants to spend only a little time here, so he makes his way to the bar.

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you will only find in a few places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me," he replies.

With a slight nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink.

While Jungkook waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after its owner dropped it there.

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low-cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran, sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable.

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That's it for me.."

He places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushes it toward the woman behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, instantly replacing it with a new one.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Once again, the number is unknown.

Jungkook intends to ignore it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh.

He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"Look, I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

There is a long, dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately, his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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nicoline1998enilocin · 4 months

Text

The beginning of the end...?

Pairing ⇒ Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader x Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes

Word count ⇒ 5.6K

Summary ⇒ Steve and Bucky are planning on proposing, but as they're doing this, they don't realize the two of them are giving you the feeling you're not worthy of them. As soon as they find out, their behavior completely changes, and before you know it, you have two super soldiers down on their knees, asking you to marry them.

Rating ⇒ Explicit (E)

Warnings ⇒ Polyamorous relationship, use of nicknames (Princess, Printsessa),

Angst ⇒ Hurt/comfort, references to anxiety and insecurity.

Smut ⇒ MMF threesome, D/S undertones, sensory play/deprivation (blindfold), discussion of safewords, size kink, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), nipple play, fingering (anal/vaginal), double penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, implied aftercare

Request ⇒ Anon I don’t know if you write this but could you maybe write a story about bucky x Steve x y/n or reader what you prefer. That they are in a relationship but reader feels left out because Steve and bucky go way back together so she thinks they wanne break up while the boys are planning to propose. So reader distance herself more and more while the boys have no clue. In the end they propose to her but I want a good angsty/ fluff story

A/n -> Thank you so much for this beautiful request, sweet Nonnie! I want to thank @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me develop the title, and I want to say thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for helping me whilst writing this, as well as for your feedback while proofreading. You helped me bring this fic to the next level, and I deeply appreciate it! ❤️

A/n 2.0 ⇒ My requests are open again! Please consider that I only have 24 hours in my day, so it might take a while to get the new requests posted, but I expect to post them around February/March. I'll be looking forward to what you will all come up with, and I can't wait to start writing requests again ❤️

Events Masterlist ⇒ @buckybarnesevents ⇒ BaBB061: December ⇒ Sensory Play/ Deprivation Masterlist ⇒ @stuckybingo ⇒ Kink: Size kink Masterlist ⇒ @lgbtqbingo ⇒ Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Masterlist ⇒ @marvel-smash-bingo ⇒ ''I love to see you lying there like that.''

Banners: @vase-of-lilies ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ Photo: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Stucky Masterlist

Something between the three of you has shifted. You don't know how, why, or when, but it has. And with that, your anxiety has gone through the roof as well. Steve and Bucky have been spending more time with each other than with you lately, which is strange since they usually can't keep their hands off of you, or each other for that matter. Even though all three of you still sleep in the same bed at night, it doesn't feel the same and you're starting to feel like a third wheel in your relationship. After all, they've known each other for almost a century.

You're watching a movie with only Steve because Bucky is on an undercover mission and is unreachable for at least a week. However, even though you have chosen the movie, you're not watching it. Your eyes look at the TV, but your brain doesn't register what's happening as you're so lost in your thoughts.

"Is everything okay, Princess?" Steve asks when he notices you've been zoned out for a while.

"Yeah, just tired," you say and fake a yawn, getting up to go to bed despite still being early in the evening. Steve looks at you with worry when you stand, but he leaves it be for now; he figures that if something's wrong, you'll come to him.

"Okay, sleep well, Princess," he says in a soft, defeated voice, and your heart aches at the sound, but you will your legs to walk to the bedroom and curl into the comforter on your bed. Not long after, you feel the mattress dip beside you, and Steve cuddles up to you under the heavy comforter. You let out a small sigh as you feel his muscular chest press against your back. Steve places a few soft kisses on your shoulder before he whispers something to you, under the impression you're asleep.

"I love you, Princess. I'm sorry we have to do it this way, but it'll be for the best," he says. With those words, he lays his head down, and you're fighting against your tears. This confirms it for you. He's just being nice to you now because Bucky's not here, waiting for him to return so they can break up with you together. It'll always be them against the world, and they don't have a place inside that world for you.

To save yourself from most of the pain, you decide to spend more time with others or alone in your room instead of with Steve, and while you notice the sad look on his face, he also doesn’t come to you.

"Princess, can we talk for a minute?" Steve asks as you walk into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. He's leaning against the counter in tight sweatpants and an even tighter shirt. You feel a wave of arousal course through your veins and between your legs, as you look him up and down, admiring his physique. You don’t let it distract you from the matter as you prepare for the talk he’s about to have with you.

"Sure, Steve," you say with a slight smile, hoping it looks sincere.

When you have your breakfast ready, he leads you to your bedroom, where you sit on your couch. He takes his place next to you, almost taking up half the sofa with the broad shoulders you love so much -where you scrape your nails when he's fucking your brains out. But that's not what you're thinking of right now, no. Right now, you're bracing yourself for what's to come; the inevitable is here, you think.

"As you know, Bucky is coming home from the mission tomorrow, and I was thinking of surprising him with a relaxing evening with the three of us. A nice home-cooked dinner, a relaxing bath, maybe even a blanket fort and a movie," he says as he looks at you expectantly.

"I- I think I have plans tomorrow night, sorry," you say, and you look at your food, unable to look Steve in the eye right now because if you do, you're sure he'd see that you're not telling the truth.

"Princess, can you please look at me?" Steve asks in a soft voice, and that's what pushes you over the edge, the tears streaming down your face while you sob uncontrollably. Steve reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, whispering soothing words and kissing you again on your temple.

"It's okay, Princess, I've got you," he says, and you can't help but feel incredibly guilty that he's doing this.

"C'mon, let's get a little more comfortable on the bed," he says as he lifts you up and carries you there before sitting with you in his lap. The two of you stay like that until you calm down and surrender to his warmth, feeling safe in his strong arms.

"I'm sorry…" you croak out, and it's a good thing he has super soldier hearing otherwise, you doubt he would hear you.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Princess," he says as he wipes your tears, and after a little while, you agree to welcome Bucky home tomorrow night, just like you always do when one or both of them come home from a mission.

Bucky is coming home today, and you feel both happy and anxious. What if he doesn't greet you the same way he always does? Or what if he only wants to see Steve? Your mind is going into overdrive the closer he gets to finally being home, but you're trying to keep yourself together, not wanting to breakdown like you did with Steve yesterday. When the Quinjet is on approach, you shoot Steve a quick text to see if he's coming, but he says he's wrapped up in a meeting for a while and that you can go alone, so you do.

As you walk to the hangar, you ball your fists up by your sides to relieve some of the anxiety you're feeling, but all you do is break the skin and leave crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You hope Bucky won't see them. When the Quinjet lands and Bucky walks out, you see him searching for both you and Steve. If he's disappointed only to be greeted by you, he doesn't show it. He runs over to you with a slight jog and a smile on his face before picking you up and hugging you tightly.

"Hi, Printsessa! I can't believe how much I've missed you these past few weeks, and I'm sorry I couldn't contact you sooner," he says as he puts you down and grabs your face softly with his big, calloused hands.

"I love you so much, and I can't wait for our blanket fort tonight," he continues before capturing your lips in a soft kiss, which quickly turns passionate as you let yourself melt into Bucky's touch. When he pulls away, you’re smiling too. You're happy he's home because seeing Bucky somehow makes you forget all your anxieties for just a moment or two.However, as you walk back to the Compound, and Bucky tries to hold your hand, you pull away and he stops dead in his tracks, looking at you with a raised brow. Shit.

"What's going on, Printsessa? Did you hurt your hand or something?" he asks and with a small tear rolling down your face, you unfold the palms of your hands, showing him the damage you've done to them. You don't know how or why, but Bucky seems to catch onto things a lot faster than Steve did, as he immediately figures out it's because they have been spending less time with you lately.

"Is- Is this because of us? Because Steve and I are busier with work lately?" he asks softly. He told Steve this was likely to happen and now that it has he feels worse than ever. With a slight nod, you wordlessly answer his question, and his heart feels like it is shattering as he clutches you to his chest. He holds you as close as he can and repeatedly says the word ‘sorry’.

"I-It's okay," you croak out, still crying into his chest. Suddenly, you feel a powerful, broad chest against your back and one more pair of warm hands rubbing your sides to calm you down. Although you don’t see it, Bucky shoots Steve a look of ’I told you so!’ over your shoulder. They're both feeling sorry, even though this was the only way to organize the extraordinary thing they have planned for you.

"Shall we go inside, and take a bath together, Printsessa? After that, we can build the blanket fort, watch a movie, and cuddle," Bucky offers. You nod into his chest, but you're not letting him go, so he picks you up with no effort and carries you inside.

Bathtime with your two super soldiers is always lovely, especially since you have a custom bathtub that fits all three of you perfectly. Steve lets the water run and puts some of your favorite scented bubbles in while Bucky undresses you with kisses on each piece of skin that he reveals.

"God, I can't believe I've missed out on this for so long, Printsessa," he says, and you can't help but preen because of his words. As his lips find your pulse point, sucking softly but still hard enough to leave a bruise, you let out a small moan.

His hands are squeezing the flesh of your butt and spreading them at the same time, giving Steve a little show as he undresses you. Both of them are incredibly hard and when you feel both their dicks press against your body, you can't help but throw your head back against Steve's shoulder.

"Please," you beg softly, although you’re unsure what you're actually begging for. Both men decide not to make you wait any longer, so Steve pulls you close to his chest while Bucky sinks to his knees in front of you. At the sight of Bucky ready to worship you, you clench around nothing, and Steve's warm breath by your ear makes goosebumps appear across your neck. His arms are hooked under yours, cupping both your breasts as Bucky lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder before diving into your dripping pussy. You moan loudly.

"Look at that, Princess, look at how perfect he looks between these delicious thighs of yours," Steve growls in your ear, and it all only serves to arouse you even further, bringing you closer to your orgasm. His fingers find your pebbled nipples, rolling and tugging them, drawing soft whines from your lips. Bucky has both of your thighs in a grip that's sure to leave bruises, but the slight discomfort only leaves you wanting more. More of him. More of Steve. More of everything.

"God, you're just such an easy little slut for us, aren't you? We get you naked, and suddenly, you're like a lost puppy who doesn't know what to do," Steve drawls with a slight smirk. At the same time, Bucky lets his tongue alternate between dipping into your entrance and stimulating your clit, until you're right on the edge. That's when he pulls away without any warning.

"You didn't think we'd let you cum that easy, did you?" Bucky teases, and you can feel the disappointment washing over you. However, it doesn't last long because Steve's lips find their way onto your neck as his hands wander to your waist before turning you around to face him.

"Don't worry, Princess, we'll make up for it in the bath, but you'll have to trust us, alright? We’ll make you feel like you're flying. We’ll make love to you until all you can think about is Bucky and me giving you more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel," he tells you, his bright blue eyes sparkling at the thought of what's to come. However, just as you think he's about to lead you into the bath, he reaches for something on the counter that you didn't see earlier: a blindfold.

"If you're okay with it, I'm going to blindfold you when we're in the bath. We’ll be constantly with you, and make sure nothing happens that you're not okay with, Princess. We’re going to use the traffic light system for this. Can you explain what it means?" he asks patiently, and you nod in response.

"Green means that I'm good, that you can continue what you're doing, and that I'm enjoying it. Yellow means that I might be getting uncomfortable with something, so we stop and have a check-in to see what we can do differently before continuing. Red means I have reached a limit and that I want to stop with what we're doing. This will end the entire scene for everyone, and we’ll move on to aftercare," you tell him, just like you have done so many times before.

Despite this, Steve and Bucky want you to say it to them, whether you're just with one of them or all three of you are together. They’re always mindful of your well-being, both physical and emotional, and they keep an extra eye out for you during moments like these.

''Good girl,'' Bucky tells you and with that all three of you get into the bath. They let you get used to the warmth of the water and softness of the bubbles first, the blindfold still lying on the small table next to the large tub.You're leaning against Steve's chest with your legs stretched out and Bucky gently massages your feet to relax you. They want all your anxiety gone, your mind eased.

Steve joins in, his skilled hands slowly massaging your thighs and a groan falls from your lips when he finds a rather sensitive spot, making him smirk. After they massage your limbs for another ten to fifteen minutes, the two super soldiers share a look,Steve immediately knowing what Bucky is thinking. Bucky leans forward, happily pulling you into his lap and getting you settled as he peppers your neck and jaw with kisses and love bites.

''Are you ready, Printsessa? Steve is going to blindfold you when you're ready, and we're hoping you can take both of us today at the same time. How do you feel about that?'' Bucky explains to you as he looks at you, happy when he doesn’t find any sign of discomfort on your face.

''I feel good about it, Bucky; I want to feel both of you inside me,'' you reply, and immediately after, you're blindfolded, the world around you entirely dark. You can hear the soft background music that Steve turned on, and you can feel two sets of hands roaming over your body. Bucky's metal hand is a stark contrast to his flesh one, even in the water as they roam over your thighs before slipping between them, finding your clit effortlessly.

You gasp at the feeling of the metal on your sensitive nub, and you arch your back, pressing your bare breasts against his chest; your butt is now presented beautifully for Steve, who has both of his hands kneading the flesh as he enjoys the sight in front of him. Your hole is on display, but before he moves to work you open, he needs to hear your consent first.

''Color?'' he asks, and you reply with an immediate green. He reaches to the side of the tub and retrieves a small bottle of silicone-based lube. He flips the top open with his thumb, and you softly gasp at the click. Steve squirts some onto his fingers, ready to start opening you up. He moves his hand to your rim with a soft hum, massaging it with his fingertips until it is relaxed enough to push the tip of his index finger in, working you open slowly. Bucky moves his hand from your clit to your entrance, pushing in two fingers at once. The pleasure you were already feeling heightens immensely.

''Look at you, Printsessa, you're doing so good for us,'' Bucky tells you as he keeps visually checking in with Steve. They know you can handle it but don't want to overwhelm you, so they're extra careful with you. They're both big and they don't want to hurt you accidentally, so caution is necessary. When Steve manages to slip a second lubed finger into you, you wince, and both men immediately stop everything they're doing.

''Color?'' Steve asks.

''Yellow,'' you breathe out. You're having to adjust to him being inside you, but the blindfold over your eyes is making everything more intense.

''I-I need to adjust a little, with the blindfold- I'm just a little more nervous than usual,'' you tell them, and they understand. You take a few deep breaths, giving your body time to get used to what your boyfriends are doing. As you relax, you tell them you’re ‘green,’ and they carefully pick up where they left off. More pleasure blooms through your abdomen as Bucky works a third finger into your pussy, and a loud moan escapes from you as your nails dig into his shoulders.

''Fuck! You both feel so good inside of me,'' you tell them with a broad smile, and you even begin to rock yourself back and forth now that the nerves have disappeared and your confidence has increased. While you were still a little on edge at first, you've now found your footing, and you can feel your orgasm building once more.

''Yeah? Just imagine how you feel when we're both buried deep inside of you, Printsessa, both of our cocks splitting you open as you fall apart on them. Thrusting in and out before we fill you up until both of your holes are dripping with our cum,'' Bucky tells you, and you moan at his words, wanting nothing more than to be filled by them.

''Are you going to cum for us, Princess? Are you cumming on our fingers?'' Steve growls behind you, and with a scream of their names you do, your boyfriends working you through your orgasm with expert precision. They praise you endlessly and prepare you for what's to come. When you come down from your high and are ready for what’s next, Bucky slides down into the bath until the water reaches his shoulders.You straddle him, finding the perfect position so that Steve can also slide in.

''How's this, Printsessa? Are you comfortable?'' Bucky asks, your hands resting on his chest for balance. It's not uncomfortable, but the shift requires you to adjust slightly to avoid falling over onto Bucky.

''Perfect,'' you tell him, and he leans up to kiss you softly. As he does, you hear a soft growl coming from Steve behind you. Your ass has lifted slightly, now only just beneath the surface, as he's admiring where he's about to slide into in a few moments.

''I love to see you lying there like that,'' Steve tells you, and you smile into the kiss with Bucky. When you pull away and sit down, you can feel his length between your thighs, now grown to total hardness. Steve reaches into the water to find Bucky's cock and lube it up; they don’t want to hurt you, after all. Bucky lets out a loud moan as Steve strokes his hand up and down a few times before lining Bucky’s cock up with your pussy. The sensation of his tip against your clit makes you moan as well. Your head falls back as you sink down onto Bucky's length, feeling it stretch you inch by inch.

''Color?'' Steve asks as you sink to the hilt, Bucky's tip hitting your sweet spot.It makes you see stars and your nails scratch his chest in an attempt to ground yourself.

''So fucking green,'' you bite out as you start to grind down on Bucky, whose hands are on your hips to guide your movements. With every thrust back in, you can feel Bucky everywhere, and the fact you can't see makes the experience ten times better. Steve is enjoying the sight in front of him as he generously spreads the lube over his cock. He has ensured you’re adequately prepped, but it will still be a stretch, and he wants it to be pleasurable for you both. After a few minutes of slow grinding on Bucky’s cock, you feel Steve's hands stopping you. He lines himself up to your other hole, which welcomes him in with little resistance.

A loud groan leaves Steve's lips as he carefully thrusts into you, keeping a close eye on your reactions as your body gets used to him. Bucky's eyes are trained on your face as well and he gently tucks some of your hair behind your ear. Your chest heaves up and down at the feeling of both men filling you, but the pleasure only intensifies with every passing second. When Steve slides all the way in with a groan, both men still for a moment, letting you adjust again.

''What's your color?'' Bucky asks you. The blindfold is slightly damp from the sweat dripping off your forehead, but you wouldn't change this moment for the world. Your mouth is slack as you get used to the feeling of fullness; being taken like this by your boyfriends isn't something to take lightly, after all.

''Green,'' you tell them eventually, and with that, Steve sets a slow pace that has all three of you moaning loudly as pleasure courses through your bodies. It doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge of another orgasm; your body was already near the edge from the time Bucky had slid in. With a long, broken moan, you work yourself over their cocks, trying to be the one to set the pace even though you barely have the strength to hold yourself up.

''Let us do the work, Printsessa; you relax. Just enjoy how we make you feel,'' Bucky says, and you nod. You let yourself sink against him, and Steve slides out to change positions, too, so he can be the one to do most of the work right now. He doesn't mind, and as he slides back in with ease, he almost immediately sets a pace that makes both you and Bucky moan loudly.

''Look at you, Princess, your tight holes are welcoming us so beautifully.You look so perfect between us as we fuck you into oblivion,'' Steve says. You’re so small that your body is now completely covered by both men. Steve can feel himself throb inside you, his orgasm nearing fast now and a glance at Bucky lets him know the other man feels the same. It doesn't take long for them to cum inside you, filling you with every last drop of their cum. Once their breathing returns to normal, they carefully pull out, one after the other.

They shift you so that your back is against Steve's chest at the side of the tub, and Bucky kneels in front of you. His long, skilled fingers untie the knot behind your head with ease, and when the blindfold falls away, you look into his eyes, which are filled with love.

''Welcome back, Printsessa,'' he says before kissing your lips gently.

After your bath, all three of you step out of the tub, and your boyfriends dry you off before seeing to themselves. Bucky picks you up, towel and all, and carries you to the bed for much-needed cuddles. When he puts you down, he dresses you in a pair of panties and one of his henleys. He grabs a pair of sweatpants for himself while Steve gets the blanket fort ready to celebrate another successful mission.

''We're fortunate to have you as our girlfriend, you know that?'' Bucky says, peppering your face with kisses as you sit sideways on his lap, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns on his Vibranium arm. You're about to say something in return, but Steve walks back in, and you can't help but glance at his abs, his sweatpants hanging below them.

''Who's ready for some blanket fort cuddles?'' Steve asks, and you jump off Bucky's lap, racing toward it. They always allow you to go in first so you can find the most comfortable spot, but they follow you quickly, ready to watch a movie and unwind together. Not a single worry plagues your mind, and the anxieties you felt over the last few weeks have all melted away. They didn't want to get rid of you, after all.

"Printsessa?" Bucky says as you're curled up in the big armchair in the living room, your Kindle lying on your lap as you read the latest Stephen King novel. You look up at him with a soft smile, which he returns and then walks your way. He crouches in front of you, his metal hand rubbing your knee soothingly and he looks into your eyes with his beautiful blue ones. A wave of warmth runs through your body as you look back at him.

"I want to treat you to a spa day to thank you for everything you do for us. From keeping us safe during missions to being the best, sweetest, caring, and most beautiful girlfriend we could wish for. We're lucky to call you ours, and you deserve a day to relax and let yourself be taken care of," he tells you.

"A-Are you sure? You don't have to do that," you tell him, your hand going to his cheek, your fingers gliding over the stubble. The caress earns you a soft groan as Bucky’s eyes close, allowing the feeling of your fingers to quiet his mind a little bit. He's still feeling bad about how they made you feel, and even though they're trying to do better, they still have a few more things to organize, which is Bucky's ulterior motive for sending you on the spa day.

"I know, but you deserve it, Printsessa. How about this: You make a girls' day of it with Nat and Wanda, and then we'll go out for dinner afterward. Nothing over the top, but we can make it a date night with you, me, and Steve," he offers. You nod in response. It does sound like a good idea.

"Alright, I'll go ask if they have time for a spa day soon," you tell Bucky before getting up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and standing on your tiptoes to reach his mouth for a kiss. As soon as you feel his soft, plush lips on yours, warmth spreads through your veins, and his hands pull you against his body as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue swipes over your upper lip, asking for entrance, which you happily grant before feeling it against yours, moving in unison in a slow, passionate dance. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls away, as you don't want this moment to be over yet.

"I think there's someone who would like some attention as well, Printsessa," he whispers in your ear before you see Steve leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way into the living room where you and Bucky are still standing by the armchair, your Kindle long forgotten on the armrest.

You beckon Steve over, and he happily complies. You place your hands on his cheeks, pulling him down to meet you halfway for a kiss in which you're more than happy to take the lead. He follows your motions effortlessly, and when you finally pull away, you have a little difficulty catching your breath as you look into his eyes.

"I love you both so much, but now I'm going to find Nat and Wanda because I have a spa day to plan!" you say before giving each of them a peck on their lips and heading out the living room, on your way to meet your two fellow Avengers. As you turn around to say goodbye, you see that both super soldiers have found their place in the large armchair, having their own moment, and you look at them with adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to have these two super soldiers as your boyfriends.

You're at the nail salon with Natasha and Wanda a week later, deciding what design to put on your nails. Bucky and Steve have told you to get them done however you want, no matter the price, and you decide to go with a set of blue chrome nails. Wanda opts for a red set to match Vision, and Nat goes for sharp, black nails to suit her aesthetic.

When you’re all done, the three of you head to the shops for some clothes.Luckily, you don't have to go far to find the perfect dress to wear to dinner with your boyfriends. In a store window, you see a beautiful black velvet dress that immediately draws your attention, and you decide to go and try it on.

''It fits like a glove!'' you tell both girls as you walk out of the dressing rooms, and their jaws hit the floor as they look at you. You walk out of the store shortly after, not only with the dress but also with a pair of simple black heels to go with it. You're very excited to show Steve and Bucky your new outfit, but they’ll have to wait until just before going to dinner.

''I'm sure you won't make it out of the Compound looking like that. At least you wouldn't if I were your partner,'' Natasha says, giving you a massive boost of confidence. By the time the three of you are heading back to the Avengers Compound, where Bucky and Steve are making the last changes to the proposal, it’s almost 4 pm.

''How're my two favorite super soldiers doing?'' you ask as you walk into the bedroom. They’ve just finished the last necessary arrangements and are sitting on the bed watching an action movie. Steve is between Bucky's legs with Bucky's arms around his waist. His own hands are on Bucky's knees and they melt into each other's embrace. They both look up at you with expressions of adoration as you walk into the bedroom.

''We're doing perfectly now that you're back, Printsessa,'' Bucky says, and Steve nods in agreement. You tell them you're going to get ready for dinner straight away because you want to take your time and make everything perfect. From a dark make-up look to an elegant bun, you pull out all the stops. You finish the outfit with a simple silver necklace, and when it's time to leave for dinner, you meet Steve and Bucky in the living room, where they are waiting for you.

''So, how do I look?'' you ask them as you twirl around, and they practically drool at the sight of you. With a shared look, their plans change; they don't want to wait any longer to ask you to become their wife. They’ll propose to you now, and dinner will be to celebrate getting engaged.

''Princess?'' Steve stretches out his hand, which you take before he pulls you into the living room. Bucky turns on some soft background music on his phone and he fiddles with the ring in his pocket, the other half to the one Steve has in his. They chose matching, stackable rings that fit perfectly together so they could go down on one knee with a ring together.

''Printsessa, Steve, and I are so very fortunate to have you in our lives. We were happy before you met us, but we had never felt this amazing until we met you and you joined our relationship. Our days are brighter because of you, and our missions are less of a burden since we know we will come home to you every single time. Knowing that you're waiting for us is just one more reason for us to fight even harder because we don't want to be away from you any longer than we have to,'' Bucky tells you, and Steve stands beside him.

''I'm going to be honest: both Bucky and myself have done countless stupid things, but asking you to be a part of our lives isn't one of them. I love the traditions we've built together, from the blanket forts after each mission to our weekly dinner dates; we wouldn't change it for the world. We found our soulmate in you, and because of that, we want to ask you something important,'' Steve says.

Both men sink on their knees as you take a small step back, and the small ring boxes open in unison. Disbelief courses through your body at first, but it's true. They are asking you to marry you, and you can't wait for that day to arrive.

''Will you make us the happiest men in the universe and marry us?'' they ask in unison, and a loud laugh escapes you as you nod.

''Yes, of course, I'll marry you guys!'' you say, and they stand up to slide both rings on your finger. They each give you a deep, passionate kiss and then turn to share one with each other. Happiness radiates off all three of you.

''I love you both so much, though if you ever plan anything again, please don't make me feel like you're going to break up with me!'' you told them, and they agree. From here on out, they will do anything to include you whenever possible, and you have never felt more loved in your entire life.

''We love you too, Princess, more than you know,'' Bucky tells you before all three head off to dinner, celebrating the start of the rest of your lives.

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alltheirdamn · 11 days

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 8 Stages

Summary: The truth is the hardest pill to swallow. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** violence, blood, angst x1000, language, brief hospital setting, mentions of alcohol, stages of grief, heavy emotions A/N: This was one of the most cathartic and emotional pieces of writing I've ever done.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

You didn’t realize how white your knuckles were until you glanced down at your hands gripping the steering wheel. You hadn’t moved the car a single inch since you saw Bennett’s car. It was the same piece of shit silver sedan he always drove; you’d know it in a heartbeat. Even if you didn’t recognize it, you could spot his floppy blonde hair and lean frame standing on your porch. You mindlessly searched your purse for your phone, dialing Joel’s number. You’d hate yourself for this later, but you needed to lie.

“Everythin’ okay?” Joel answered.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you lied. For your sake, you hoped that your voice wouldn’t be as shaky as your body. “I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier. Why don’t you come over later, okay? I just got home, and my head is pounding.”

“I was ‘bout to leave my house, baby. Can I come over with some medicine and some food? I’ll take care of you,” Joel insisted.

“No!” You panicked. “No, it’s okay. I’ll call you later, and you can come over. I promise.”

“Baby, y’sure you’re okay?”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes glued to Bennett only yards away. God, you were terrible at lying, but if Joel knew Bennett was here, you’d be left with a dead body in your front yard.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you sighed. “Just need some rest.”

“I’ll be waitin’ for you to call,” Joel said. You could hear the defeat in his voice.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“See you later, baby.”

You couldn’t hang up the phone fast enough. Joel would hate you for lying, but you needed to do this—whatever it was—alone. Everything in your life had been flipped on its head in just a week, and now, the man who had broken your heart beyond amends was standing at your front door. You weren’t sure if you would survive this.

Taking your foot off the brake, you rolled your car into the driveway. Bennett glanced at your car as you put it in park, his blue eyes piercing through the distance between your bodies. The coldness of his stare was just the same as it was two years ago; nothing about him had changed.

Your legs could barely hold up your trembling body as you exited the car and made your way to the porch. Bennett wore a casual business suit, the pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his black slacks hugged his long legs. He hadn’t changed one bit. He was always the businessman.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned, bounding up the porch steps.

Bennett eyed you as you got closer, shifting his weight and drinking you in. You were well aware of your appearance: the long work day had left your hair tousled and your blouse wrinkled from sitting at your desk. You spent two years imagining what seeing him again would be like, and in every stupid imagination, you weren’t looking worn down and tired. You imagined you’d be triumphant and strong, but you were small again in his shadow.

“Hello to you, too,” Bennett grinned. Your name off his tongue was venomous, a slow, poisonous drip that ran through your veins. Compared to Joel’s accent drawling out your name, Bennett said it like a curse.

“I’ll ask you again, Bennett. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bennett’s hands twisted together in front of his body, and your eyes caught the sun’s light radiating off a golden band sitting snugly on his left hand. He was married. You steadied your body's sway, your vision blurring around the edges.

“You’re— you’re married,” you stammered.

Bennett glanced at his hand, his eyes roaming back to yours with a smug grin.

“Just tied the knot in May,” he shrugged.

“To who? What—. I don’t understand why you’re here.” Your mind was reeling.

“Her name is Natalie. We met through work about a year ago. We hit it off immediately, and I knew she was the one.”

Your knees threatened to buckle, and the strong composure you tried to maintain slipped. Bennett was married. He was in love. And it was to someone else.

“If she’s the one, then why are you here? At my house?”

Bennett looked up at the porch overhang, his eyes tracking over the flowers planted in the yard on the walkway leading to the front door. You saw it in his eyes; you had made this a home.

“Your house,” Bennett echoed.

“Yes, Bennett. My fucking house. The one you abandoned when you ran away.”

Bennett scoffed, tucking his hands into his pocket.

“You still don’t remember, huh?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethed. You stepped forward, baring your teeth.

Not only was Bennett here, but he was taunting your memory. Nothing had fucking changed.

“A friend of mine saw you out to dinner with someone a couple of weeks ago,” Bennett started. “I was curious and figured I’d drop by and ask about it.”

You laughed.

“Not only did you leave me, but you got married. And now you want to act like you give a shit about who I date?” You accused. “Are you that fucking cruel, Bennett? Do you have any clue how fucking insane you sound? You have no control over my life anymore. Who I date and what I do is none of your business! You decided that the day you left.”

“I’m here because I care about you,” he defended.

“You never cared about me!” You yelled. “You left me! You have no right to come back. Not now. Not ever.”

Bennett stepped forward, both of you toe to toe. You couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Something about the way he stared at you made you rethink his words. He looked concerned; he looked at you like he did care. It was a look you hadn’t seen since before the accident.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He asked.

“Know what, Bennett? Stop being so fucking cryptic!”

Bennett opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the sound of tires squealing. Your head whipped to the side, your eyes widening as you saw Joel barreling out of his truck and up the yard.

“Joel?” You exhaled.

You told him you’d call him later. You told him not to come here. Why didn’t he fucking listen? Why now?

“Bennett!” He shouted, running up the front steps.

You barely made it out of the way before Joel’s fist sailed into Bennett’s jaw, the sound of bones cracking echoing around you. There was no time to recover or react as Joel grabbed Bennett by the shirt collar, spinning him into the wall and shoving him on his toes. Joel was only a few inches taller than Bennett, but in his grip, Bennett looked smaller than you had ever seen him. Blood dripped from his lip as he whimpered in Joel’s grasp, a deep purple bruise blooming across his cheek and jaw.

“Joel!” You gasped, your voice finally returning.

You ran toward his body, trying to tear him off Bennett’s body. Joel only shrugged away your hands, his fists tightening around Bennett’s collar.

“I told you I’d kill you if you ever came back,” Joel snarled.

You staggered back after hearing his words. What did Joel mean? What was he saying?

Bennett smiled through bloodied teeth, pushing his face closer to Joel’s. His eyes shifted between yours and Joel's, and his lips curled back.

“We both agreed to stay away,” Bennett said. “Then I find out you just couldn’t give up. You came right back to her. Does she even know?”

“Y’have no fuckin’ business to be back here, Bennett,” Joel snapped.

Joel used brute strength to wrangle Bennett to the ground, his arm winding back before he assaulted him with another pound of his fist. Bennett’s face snapped to the side, blood spurting onto the wood-paneled floor. Joel delivered an onslaught of punches, an explosive display of his anger shown in the form of sadistic violence. Never did you imagine Joel to be so cruel, so unforgiving… so terrifying. You watched in horror as Joel terrorized Bennett with strike after strike. You couldn’t stomach it, your body swirling with nausea as more blood pooled around Bennett’s face.

“Joel! Stop it!” You finally screamed.

You threw yourself at him, yanking at his shoulders to try and tear him away from Bennett’s limp body. Bennett’s eyes were hardly open, shallow groans escaping his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. He was hardly recognizable.

“Joel!” You pleaded. “Stop it, please!”

Finally, Joel relented, rocking back onto his heels with blood splattered on his hands and shirt. This wasn’t the man you loved. This was someone else… someone terrifying.

“I’m calling the cops,” you panted, your breath ragged as you tried to swallow down the vomit rising in your throat.

“Don’t,” Joel argued. You didn’t recognize the tone of his voice; it was so harsh and angry.

“I can’t just leave him like this, Joel! Don’t you see what you did to him? I don’t—I don’t know what the fuck just happened. I told you to stay home. I can’t… We need to call an ambulance.”

Joel stood to his full height, glancing down at his hands, their tanned skin battered and bloody. Whoever this man was before you, it was not the man you were falling in love with.

“What are you gonna tell them, baby? Because if they see me like this, I’m goin’ to jail.”

“Are you threatening me right now, Joel?” You gaped. “After everything you just did.”

His eyes met yours, the darkness inside them drowning out the brown you were so familiar with. His eyebrows furrowed together, scrutinizing your body language and disgust as you stared at him.

“Call them,” he grunted. “I don’t give a fuck. I told him what to expect if he ever came back.”

There it was again. That same sentence that confused the hell out of you. It jarred you in an unsettling way, but you pushed it down and focused on the man lying unconscious on the porch. You ran to your car, dug for your phone, and dialed 911.

You remained by your car until the police showed up, their flashing lights and sirens lighting up the fading sun as it drifted into duskfall. Joel sat on the porch steps, his head hung low and bruised hands in his lap. Neither of you had spoken a word since you called the police, and his words to Bennett still swarmed inside your mind. You had lied about the headache to him earlier, but now it was true. And you felt fucking miserable.

Two police officers exited their car, meeting you on the driveway.

“Can you tell us what happened here, ma’am?” One of them asked. He was taller than Joel, his face clean-shaven and creased with aging skin. His hand remained comfortably over the grip of his gun on his utility belt, and you tracked each movement as your heart thumped in your ears.

You swallowed thickly, deciding to do the unspeakable. You lied.

“I came home, and my ex-fiancé was waiting for me,” you explained, meticulously fabricating a story that would save Joel. Despite your confusion, a small piece of you still wanted to protect him. “I called my boyfriend and told him I felt unsafe. I tried waiting in my car, but—but my ex dragged me from the car and was threatening to hurt me if I didn’t let him inside. That's when Joel, my boyfriend, showed up. Everything he did was to protect me.”

The lie tasted bitter as it sat heavy on your tongue. It was hard to remain composed as your headache grew stronger.

“We’ll need statements from both parties,” the officer explained, reaching for a small notepad.

The other officer, a short, tan-skinned man, stayed with you and gathered your personal information. You watched as the first officer approached Joel, your body tense as you worried the stories wouldn’t add up. You lied for Joel. You hoped for both of your sakes he would fuck this up more than he had already.

The blaring sound of sirens jolted you from your fixation on Joel, the ambulance coming to a rolling stop in front of your driveway. The neighborhood was slowly becoming crowded, with watchful neighbors littering the streets and front yards. You shrunk away from their wandering eyes, wishing the world could grow quiet and dark.

Medics bounded up your driveway, a stretcher and medical supplies in hand. You bit your lip to contain the cries threatening to explode. You hated Bennett, but the brutal image of Joel’s fist crushing his face over and over again… you couldn’t erase it from your mind. Bennett was a piece of shit, but he didn’t deserve what happened.

The other officer joined you again, tapping his pen against the notepad. Anxiety wove its way through your pounding headache, straining the air, trying to expel from your chest.

“The medics are working on stabilizing him now,” he explained. “Mr. Miller’s story matches yours, so our next step is prosecution. Is that something you’d like to do, Miss Smith? I recommend filing a restraining order as soon as possible to prevent another incident like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” you nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”

The officer cocked an eyebrow at your response, visibly confused. If you were following the path of your lie, a restraining order would make sense, but you also wanted to speak to Bennett after he recovered. You needed answers. You needed answers from him and Joel.

“I’ll give you the contact information for an attorney that can help with the process, but other than that, we have everything we need tonight,” he said. “When your ex-fiance is awake and alert, we’ll gather his statement and file a full report. Medics will transfer him to St. David’s for further evaluations and motoring. If Mr. Miller needs further medical attention, please contact us so we can include it in the report.”

He handed you a business card with his name and number, and slowly, the commotion began to die out. You looked on in horror as the medics wheeled Bennett off in a stretcher, his face swollen and bandaged. He was a hollow version of the man you once considered so powerful. Your memories, your happiness… they were always his. And you didn’t know who owned those things anymore. Everything was crashing down around you, and you had no control.

Joel’s figure was shrouded in darkness as he stood by your front door. The anger still radiated off his body, but it was far more tame than it had been just an hour ago. The medics had cleaned and bandaged his hand, and he kept it cradled to his body. You made a conscious effort not to look at the red stains marring your porch; you’d worry about cleaning the mess tomorrow. You couldn’t stomach the smell and sight of it, not when your mind was plunging further under the pressure of your migraine.

Joel said your name, steering you out of your swarming thoughts. You blinked up at him, your eyes hazy and blurred from tears.

“Why the hell are you here, Joel?” You snapped. “I told you to stay home, so why the fuck did you show up?”

“Somethin’ bout the way you sounded on the phone made me nervous. I’m not sorry I showed up, though,” he confessed. That wasn’t good enough.

“You either explain to me what the fuck just happened, or you leave,” you ordered.

“I can explain everythin’, baby. Can we just go inside?” Joel asked.

“You actually think I’m letting you in my house after you almost killed someone?” You raged. “I don’t even recognize you right now, Joel! And what the fuck did you mean when you told Bennett never to come back? What did he mean when he said you both agreed to stay away? Do you know him, Joel? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Joel sighed, his eyes falling to the ground; he couldn’t even fucking look at you.

“Answer me, damn it!” You cried. “Why won’t you answer me!”

“Baby, can we please go in the house? I need you to sit down and listen to me when I explain everythin’.”

“No! I want you to tell me right now.”

Joel nodded, standing idle in front of you.

“I knew about your accident before we met.”

You looked at him horrified, your body frozen.

“How?” You asked. “You didn’t even know me until almost three months ago.”

“I knew ‘bout it ‘cause we were datin’ when it happened,” he sighed. Joel’s features began to soften, and the pain in his voice was almost impossible to ignore.

“No,” you shook your head. “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not! Would you just listen to me? Please?” He pleaded, stepping forward.

You staggered back, your back hitting the side wall of the house. Your knees barely held your weight as you tried to grasp his words. Joel rubbed his bandaged knuckles, sucking in a breath before continuing.

“You and Bennett broke up after you moved to Austin,” he began. “Y’all had some big argument, so y’moved in with Maria since you were substitute teachin’ at her school—the same school you teach at now. It musta been a couple of months after the breakup, but there was a parent-teacher conference night, and I ran into you. That's how you and I met, baby. That was nearly five years ago.”

Like a saw cutting bone, your headache fractured into a million tiny pieces, each one a sharp stab to your brain as you tried to grasp onto Joel's words. It wasn’t true. He was lying. You were going crazy; all your hard work at remembering everything and moving on was crumbling down, sand through your fingertips you could not keep from falling away.

“No, I know you’re lying,” you denied, tears streaming down your face. “You’re just making some sick fucking joke out of my memory loss. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You saw an opportunity to make up some story after I shared the most traumatic part of myself. You and Bennett…” You heaved in a breath. “No. This—this isn’t true. You’re lying.”

“I’m not! And I can prove it, but let me finish explainin’,” he begged before continuing. “We dated for almost two years, alright? Best fuckin’ years of my life. Y’were the best thing to ever happen to me. You even moved in with me and Sarah! She loved you so so much, baby. We would go to her soccer games together and watch cartoons together. We took her campin’ in the summer before the accident. Everythin’ was amazing. So fuckin’ amazing.”

“Sarah?” You interjected. “She would have said something to me months ago. You can’t expect me to believe this.”

“I begged her not to say anythin’ to you when she started school,” he explained. “I didn’t want you knowin’ till I was ready. I wanted to do this my way.”

“Your way?” You scoffed. “You get to decide when it’s a good time to tell me everything I’ve known is a lie? Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

“Everyone wanted to wait ‘til it was the right time,” he defended. “We all hoped you'd remember if I came back into your life.”

You slid down the wall, your body crumbling to the ground. You buried your head in your hands, trying to quell the pain squeezing together inside your head. Nothing made sense. Everything felt like a lie. It wasn’t true. You kept telling yourself that if it was true, everyone you loved and trusted had lied to you for years. You had struggled alone for so long without the truth.

“My parents? My sisters? They all knew?” You muttered. “Everyone kept this from me?”

Joel crouched in front of you, his hand hovering over your leg.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled. You shrunk away from him, curling your legs up to your chest and pressing into the wall.

“The doctors and your parents thought it was best we didn’t mess with your memory,” he said, exasperated. “Bringin’ me into your life when y’didn’t remember me woulda set you back in recovery.”

“So, what?” You laughed bitterly. “Bennett just magically reappeared to save the day? Why did he come back if he and I were broken up?”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed tight. You shivered against the wind rustling through the yard, your thin shirt barely keeping you warm. Not even the warmth of your tears coating your cheeks could fight the chill creeping through your spine.

“Your parents made the decision to reach out to Bennett,” Joel argued. “And he loved the idea. Bennet loved knowin’ I’d have no access to your life, and he’d have you back.”

“My parents wouldn’t do that. They hate him.” You kept shaking your head, hoping things would begin to make sense.

“They hate him, but they love you more, baby,” he whispered. “And I loved you—I love you—and I was willing to risk it all. If there were some chance you would get your memory back, then I’d be here waiting for you.”

“But I never remembered! I still don’t remember, Joel! So why now? Why did you come back?”

Joel rocked back onto his heels, his body falling back until he sat before you. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He didn’t have the right to be sad; he fucked up. He lied to you, and now he was paying the consequences. Your indifference and anger would torture him like he had tortured you. Like everyone had tortured you.

“I just wanted the chance,” he admitted. “I wanted to know if that spark was still here between us. I know it’s still there, baby. This is real.”

“Don’t call me baby,” you cried, your voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t real. You lied to me, Joel, and so did everyone else. Everyone decided what they thought was best for me, and I have suffered because of it. Do you not see that?”

“We did it to protect you,” he defended. “Y’gotta understand that.”

You pulled yourself to your feet, tripping over his body and toward the door. You wanted nothing to do with this conversation anymore. You fumbled with the door handle, the tremor of your fingers making your grip weak on the lock. The sound of Joel standing behind you ignited another wave of nerves, and you spun to face him.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you cried.

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading with words he couldn’t say. You shoved at his chest, forcing him away from you. Joel’s brown eyes looked at you as if he could see your heart breaking. He choked out your name, broken syllables that no longer sounded beautiful on his tongue.

“Don’t ever come back here,” you threatened. “Don’t contact me. Don’t contact my family. You need to leave. Now.”

“Please,” he begged. Heavy tears fell down his tanned cheeks, leading to the scruff lining his jaw. You would have ached to soothe his sadness yesterday, but not now. Not when his sadness stemmed from the lies that filled the gaps in your memories.

“Leave!” You screamed, shoving him again.

Joel stumbled back, staring at you wide-eyed and heartbroken. You stepped forward again, your hands ready to push against his chest one more time. He lifted his hands in defeat, walking backward down the porch steps.

“I love you,” he whispered in the night. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t wait to see him leave. You threw open the front door and slammed it shut just as fast, your body slumping against the wood as you swallowed down your nausea.

You wanted to vomit.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to stop loving Joel.

The room was spinning around you, and you had no chance to find your bearings before the haze washed over your mind and dropped you to the ground.

Everything was dark around you. You groaned as you peeled yourself from the floor, your head still throbbing. The lies grew louder as you tried to recall everything Joel had said.

I wanted to do this my way.

I love you.

Lie after lie, overlapping in the ocean of pain, threading its way through your body. The house felt colder than you were used to, your body still shivering as you stood on unsteady legs. You walked to the kitchen in search of water; every swallow felt like knives slicing through your throat. You fumbled for the kitchen light, rummaging through the cup cabinet for a glass. Two gray mugs sat snug on the shelf, the reminder of Joel staring straight at you. Another wave of emotions coursed through you, and you reached for them.

You turned them in your hands, the faint smell of coffee lingering on the ceramic. The quiet moment spent together no longer felt special; it felt like a disgusting lie. Joel didn’t guess how you liked your coffee; he knew. He knew everything about you. The rage inside you returned, stronger than it had been on the porch. Your hands squeezed the mugs, and you hurled them into the nearest wall, a scream erupting from your mouth. You didn’t flinch as they shattered. You didn’t blink as they pierced the wall and chipped the paint. This house was built on lies, and you wanted to ruin every inch of it. You reached for another mug, smashing it on the ground before you. Then another…and another, until you stood in a pile of broken shards of your life.

It wasn’t enough.

You walked around the house, shattering anything you could find worth breaking. You stood in the living room and stared at the dust-covered bookshelf, your chest rising and falling. The books crammed on the shelves taunted you, the broken spines and dog-eared pages another reminder of the years you’d never remember. The adrenaline and anger led you to the shelf, and you used all of your strength to push it over. It toppled to the ground, its weight shaking the floor beneath your feet. A few books made their way out of the destruction, their bindings crushed by the downfall.

You staggered back to the couch, slumping into the stiff cushions. Flashes of Joel wrapped around you flooded your mind, and you immediately rolled off of it. Your ass hit the ground, and you crumbled into a ball. Somewhere in the distance, your phone rang, the shrill of the ringer echoing through the destruction you had created. Maybe it was your mom with news of your dad. Maybe it was Beth. But you knew your phone would never light up with Joel’s name again.

You rubbed your temples, trying to massage the ache throbbing in your skull.

You spent another hour on the ground until you finally decided to drag yourself to the bathroom. Under the blinding lights, you stared at the stranger in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Whoever she was, she wasn’t the girl you had been hours ago. Your eyes were swollen from crying, your cheeks flushed, and your lips chapped from screaming. The wrinkles in your blouse were worse than they had been after school, the corners untucked from your work pants and splattered with remnants of Bennett’s blood. You didn’t recall ever getting close enough to the bloodshed, but the evidence of Joel’s violence was all over your body. You couldn’t tear your clothes off fast enough.

You turned on the shower and didn’t wait for the water to run warm. The cold spray washed over your hair, and you scrubbed every inch of your body until your skin was raw and red. You ran the loufa over the places on your body Joel had touched: your stomach, your neck, your breasts. There wasn’t enough soap and water to rid yourself of the phantom touches left on your skin. You hated him. No, you wanted to hate him. You shook your head… you hated him.

You hated everyone in your life.

The imprint of Joel’s body was still pressed into the other side of the bed, and you couldn’t stand looking at the pillow he had laid his head on beside you. Those moments you shared under the light of the moon no longer felt special. He knew your body once before; he had seen you stripped bare and spread open. You gave yourself to him willingly, which meant something to you. Stripping off the sheets, you tossed them to the floor, curling up on the cold mattress. Sleep evaded you, so you let the night pass, your eyes watching the hours slip away through the view behind the bedroom window.

Eventually, the sun rose and colored your room in soft morning sunshine. It angered you that the Earth continued to spin; the world hadn’t stopped moving, though you remained stuck in the series of events from yesterday. It was so fucking unfair that people around you would wake up today and move through their day with contentment and happiness. You didn’t know if you’d ever experience those emotions again. You were spiraling into each stage of grief, the overwhelming pressure of them consuming every fiber of your being.

You mustered up whatever energy you had from yesterday to pull yourself from the empty bed. You were numb as you dressed yourself for work, avoiding the mirror as you put on a black dress and flats. You had briefly considered covering your dark circles and puffy eyes with makeup, but your exhaustion and lack of care said otherwise.

Vacating your room, you walked into the mess you had created. Shards of broken dishes and glass littered the floor, the wallpaper torn in areas, and the bookshelf still lying half-destroyed in the living room. A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, the sound foreign and distorted. You did this. Your rage and hatred for everything around you ruined the only haven you had left. You couldn’t contain the laughter as it wracked through your body, tears springing from your eyes as your eyes glazed over the catastrophe of each room. The denial settled back over you when the laughter died, leaving you weeping in an empty house.

As you left the house, you averted your eyes, your self-restraint working overtime not to focus on the blood stains marring the porch. You’d deal with that later. The silence inside your car weighed heavy on you while you drove to the school, your mind numb and empty as you pulled into your parking space. You should have found a substitute for the day, but you needed the distraction. Who knows what would have become of your house if you stayed in it any longer. The idea of setting it on fire didn’t sound so bad.

You decided to lock your classroom door until school began; you didn’t need nor want to see Maria. She was just as much a liar as the rest, leading you on all these months and pushing you toward Joel. That “Happy Hour” night was just a ploy to get you and Joel in the same space; her intentions were never pure. Everyone had blood on their hands in this stupid fucking plan.

The school bell rang, and you hesitantly opened your door. You plastered on the fake smile you had mastered, feeling uncomfortable after the last few months of actually feeling happy. Joel took that away in the span of a night.

As the students filed in, you greeted them with a tight-lipped smile and a brief hello before settling into your desk chair. You weren’t in the right headspace to teach today, so you opted for quiet reading time and a few worksheets: anything to keep the noise levels down and the questions to a bare minimum.

The classes went as smoothly as possible, with only a few outbursts of noise from each class. You hadn’t found the time to cry between each one, too busy finding the courage to face Sarah.

Joel’s voice rang in your head as you watched her walk into the classroom, her curls bouncing with each step.

She loved you so much, baby.

How could you believe Joel when he said something like that? It wasn’t true; it was manipulative. You never knew Sarah until this year. She was just as much a stranger to you as any other student until Joel entered your life. Yes, you cared for her, but you didn’t love her. Even she had been a part of all of this, her last conversation with you was just as much of a lie as everything else. You doubted Joel told Tommy he loved you, and you doubted Sarah even heard the conversation—if there really was a conversation to begin with. She was pushing you toward him like everyone else did.

Everyone had a say in your life except for you. You were a bystander among their choices; nothing in the last three years had been in your control. You were a puppet on a string, tossed everywhere until it pleased them.

“Okay, class, today is just an easy day for you,” you announced, your voice harsh and clipped. “Take out your reading for the next unit and work on chapters one through three. Once you finish, please grab a worksheet from my desk and get started on that.”

A unified groan sounded through the room, and that was your breaking point. Standing from your desk, you leveled the entire desk with a heavy glare.

“I don’t want to hear a single word today,” you snapped. “Open your books and start reading. Please.”

They all looked at you in terror. You had never been one to snap or be quick to anger, but you were teetering on the edge of eruption. One more word, and you would explode. The students sorted their backpacks for their books, the sound of pages rustling the only noise surrounding you. Slumping back into your chair, you sighed heavily and turned to your computer.

An email sat unread in your mailbox, and you clicked it open with a pit in your stomach.

Ms. Smith: My deepest apologies for your recent family emergency. Per the quarterly requirements, parent-teacher conferences must be completed by the end of the week. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to reach out. Many thanks, Principal Edmonds

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

You completely forgot about parent-teacher conferences. In the chaos of the last week, it had slipped your mind entirely. You scrounged through your binder of schedules and pulled out the spreadsheet you had created, skimming through the list to find Sarah’s name. She was the last on the list. Fuck.

Seeing Joel this week would be too soon for the open wound bleeding inside your chest. You created a mock email to send to each parent, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you landed on Joel’s email. You couldn’t avoid just one student during the conferences, even though every atom in your body screamed at you to do it. Without a second to overthink your choices, you sent your mass email and closed your inbox.

As the class continued, students drifted to your desk for their worksheets. Sarah was among the first in the groups to come up; her eyes lowered to the ground, and a frown dragged down her lips. A piece you ached for her; she was just a child amid a web of lies. Then, there was another piece of you that understood Sarah was wiser than you realized. She understood the severity of the situation, yet she continued to persist. Were the soccer games even part of Joel's meticulous plan?

“Miss Smith,” she cautioned.

“Is there something you need, Sarah?” You scowled. You were being harsh, but you couldn’t find a fuck to give about it.

“No. I—uh—I just wanted to ask if things were okay,” she stammered. “You know, between you and my dad. I shouldn’t have said anything yesterday. It was—.”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Sarah,” you interjected. You leaned forward, locking your hands together. “You shouldn’t be worrying about my dating life, nor should you worry about your father’s. I am your teacher, and these conversations need to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her eyes still staring at the ground. “I understand.”

She sulked back to her desk, never looking back at you.

When the final bell rang, you exhaled relief and listened to the class chatter quietly as they packed up to leave. You quickly cleaned your desk, stuffed your things into your bag, and slung it over your shoulder. Maria's voice drifted down the hall before you could lock your door correctly.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all day!” She said, exasperated.

You rolled your eyes, dropping your keys in your bag. Inhale. Exhale.

“Sorry, Maria. I’ve just been busy,” you lied. “I need to get home, okay? We can catch up later.”

“Is everything alright?” She pressed. “Is it your dad? Is he okay?”

You whipped your head toward her, the venom creeping over your tongue. Inhale. Exhale.

“I haven’t had time to check in. I’ve been busy.”

Maria eyed you wearily, the dots connecting in her head the longer she stared at you. She saw the anger plastered on your face; she could hear the bitterness in your voice. Her lips trembled as she tried to piece together something to say.

“Did something happen with Joel…” Her voice drifted off.

“Don’t, Maria. I need to get going.”

You rushed down the hall, leaving her between empty classrooms and lingering students.

St. David’s Medical Center looked the same as it did three years ago. Nothing had changed since you had been rushed here in an ambulance, your life hanging in the balance and memory gone. You’d never forget the moment you woke up in the hospital bed, bleary-eyed and confused.

The brick building towered over you as you entered the ER. You stilled the erratic pulse in your veins before asking a nurse which floor Bennett had been transferred to. You didn’t want to do this—you didn’t want to see him—but you deserved answers that Joel didn’t have to offer. He hadn’t been the one with you the last three years; he didn’t know the other side of the story.

The elevator ride up to the trauma unit was miserable, the nerves building inside you with each passing floor. You weren’t sure what to expect when you entered Bennett’s room, but you hoped for the best. Maybe he’d talk. Maybe he’d scream. Maybe he’d threaten to sue you…or Joel. All of which were valid reactions. The elevator door slid open, exposing you to a fluorescent hallway, a blur of nurses passing by as you walked through the corridor.

The door to his room was shut, but you spotted a petite blonde woman through the cracks of the blinds. Natalie. Dammit, you forgot he had a wife, and that made all of this much more complicated. Sucking in a deep breath, you knocked.

“You aren’t welcome here,” she seethed, cracking the door open an inch.

“I understand, and I’m so sorry. I just—I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I’m at fault for all of this. I really am sorry,” you apologized.

Natalie’s green eyes pierced into you, little daggers jabbing into the places in your heart that were still left intact. She was a few inches taller than you, her frame more petite and athletic than yours. You could understand why Bennett married her; she was perfect. You had no reason to be angry with her for his decisions, but you needed Natalie to know why you needed answers.

“Is he awake?” You asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder into the room.

She quickly blocked your view, moving into the space that allowed you to see in.

“You need to leave,” she snapped. “Our lawyer will contact you, and you can apologize to him.”

“Has he told you anything about me?” You tried a different angle. “If he has, you know why I need to talk to him. What happened yesterday…I had nothing to do with it. I was a bystander in all of it, and I know that doesn’t make the situation better, but I need to talk to him.”

“And I need you to fucking leave!” She raged.

You were defeated, tired, and left with gaps in your memory that would never be filled with answers. Nodding slowly, you wound your hands together, twisting your fingers as you stood, reluctant to leave.

“Listen, when he gets better can you please just—can someone let me know? And if he ever wants to talk to me again, I’d really like to speak with him.”

“Like I said, our lawyer will contact you.”

The sound of movement behind her stirred her away, her head glancing back at the bed. You waited idly, trying to get a glimpse of Bennett. All you could make out was splotchy, swollen skin and bandages covering half his face. When you thought about Joel, a new wave of disgust flooded you. He did this. He not only ruined your life, but he ruined Bennett’s life, too. Joel nearly killed him last night, and the guilt would weigh on you heavily for that.

“Natalie,” you heard Bennett’s voice echo into the hall. It was broken and raw, and you watched the door close in your face as she returned to his bedside.

You remained outside the door for several minutes, not knowing what to say or where to go. This had been your only chance at learning the truth from his side, but Natalie persisted in not giving you the opportunity. You understood, though; you understood her pain.

You made your way down the hall toward the nurse's station. An older woman in blue scrubs looked up at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“Can I help you with somethin’, dear?” She asked.

“Do you mind if I leave my number with you? It’s for the patient down in room 201. I would really appreciate it if you could leave it with him when he gets discharged.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Let me grab a notepad.”

You jotted down your number and left the hospital with tears streaming down your face. Everything was hopeless, completely hopeless. You would never get answers or closure; you’d have to spend however long to accept it and move forward. But that wasn’t good enough. You deserved answers. It was your life you had lost, and everyone else got the pleasure of knowing… everyone except you.

You were too tired to care about the mess when you arrived home. You walked barefoot through the house, tiptoeing around the broken dishes, not bothered by the thought of stepping on the shards. You were numb; nothing would hurt right now. You had no appetite for dinner, so you settled for a glass of wine; at least the buzz would overlap the throbbing pain in your head.

Your phone sat on the dining table, untouched. You hadn’t checked it in nearly twenty-four hours and were scared of what you might find. Despite the anger toward your family, you still worried for your dad. It was hard to push aside the emotions weighing down your chest, but you needed to make sure he was okay.

Taking a long gulp of your wine, you finally checked your phone.

Seven missed calls from Mom

Ten missed calls from Beth

Two missed calls from Stella

You dialed your mom’s number and waited with trembling hands.

“Sweetheart! I was so worried about you. Why haven’t you answered me?” Your mom sounded flustered.

“I’ve been busy,” you lied.

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. Dad woke up this morning, and everything was okay, like we hoped. He’s going to have a bit of recovery with his hip, but there were no other issues. His memory is fine, and he’s alert.”

That was the tipping point.

“I’m glad he can remember everything. I would really hate it if you had to lie to someone again about their life,” you said bitterly.

The silence was louder than words.

“Sweetie…” Your mom pleaded.

“I know, Mom. I know you lied. I know about everything, so save it.”

“You have to understand—.”

“I don’t have to understand anything! You don’t get to decide what I think or feel right now. You all chose to lie to me for years!”

“It was what we thought was right,” your mom begged. “We didn’t want to lose you. We—we were all so scared that messing with your memory would make things worse.”

You laughed, your body void of any emotion other than anger. Your words were weapons, and you were ready to aim to kill.

“And what were you planning on doing if I got those memories back?” You questioned. “Were you hoping I’d just carry on with my life without giving a shit? You took two years of my life and kept it a secret! You took everything from me, Mom. You all did.”

There was no mistaking the sound of her crying through the phone. You pulled your cell phone from your ear, letting the muffled sounds linger in static air. Your name floated through the receiver, and you slowly brought it back to your ear. Your mom's words mumbled together.

“…sorry, sweetie. I’m so—I’m so sorry. We should have told you sooner. We shouldn’t have…”

You tore the phone from your ear again and lifted your wine glass to your lips. The rich-bodied taste paired well with your resentment, the tinge of bitterness coating your tongue and poisoning your words.

“There’s a lot you should have done and said, but it’s too late now, isn’t it?” You raged. “You should have told me the truth the moment I woke up. You should have never let Bennett back into my life, and you should have never kept Joel a secret. I understand now why you all acted so weird around Joel in Boston. I understand why everyone was shoving it down my throat to tell him about the accident. You wanted me to be the one that took the fall when everything connected. I’m sure you’re so happy now that you’re free from all the secrets you’ve been hiding.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” she sobbed. “We all did.”

“Happy?” you repeated. “I’ve been miserable for years. You all knew how Bennett treated me, and you let it happen! You made that decision, and now you have to live with it. You were worried you’d lose me? Well, congrats, Mom, you’ve lost me.”

You ended the call before she could utter another word and returned to your wine glass. Sitting at the dining table, surrounded by unfamiliar ghosts, you drank until the bottle ran empty.

Light-headed and drunk, you staggered through dark hallways to your room. The world spun around you as you collapsed onto the bed, your body on an endless merry-go-round as you tried to shut your eyes. Even with an entire bottle of wine in your system, you still couldn’t sleep. You watched the ceiling fan rotate for hours, your head spinning in the same cadence. Around and around, your thoughts turned until nausea led you to the bathroom.

You laid your head on the edge of the toilet seat, exhausted and defeated. You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. You wanted to scream, but you had no voice. All you had was a handful of anger and nowhere to place it.

It took you three days to finally clean the mess inside your house. Your energy levels ran so low from work and parent-teacher conferences that you would just lay on the couch and stare at the ruined walls. Your fridge was empty, and nothing in your pantry had been touched aside from the aged bottles of wine you kept stored on a dark shelf. You weren’t the type to drink yourself into oblivion, but it had been your only comfort amid the heartbreak. You didn’t sleep much, either, and it began showing. Makeup no longer hid the dark circles sinking in beneath your eyes; you gave up trying to hide it. Your students slowly started to notice the shift in your mood as the week passed; their books were open and ready to read before you could even sit down. It was a nonverbal agreement between them and you; they kept their voices down, and you didn’t lash out. You never wanted to be the teacher who didn’t care about what they learned, but you didn’t even care about yourself right now.

But now it was the last day of conferences, and you had to see the person you hated most—the person who built up and tore down your happiness and trust.

I love you.

You wished you could love the sound of those words. You wished you could hear them again in a different life and believe them. In whatever memories you lost, you knew Joel meant those words, and you knew you probably meant them, too. And the longer you thought about it, the more your heart shattered. It was all a lie.

The clock was nearing six o'clock when you finished your conference with Georgia and her parents. Of course, she got high accolades and praises, and you carried yourself as best as you could the entire time. With tight smiles and agreeing nods of your head, her family finally shuffled out.

You tried your hardest to contain the emotions welling inside your chest. There had been nothing but a static numbness rolling through your veins the last several days, but any moment now, Joel would walk through your classroom door and tear off the bandaid, barely keeping your heart together. You sorted through papers on your desk, trying to busy yourself as you waited while cursing yourself for ever deciding to be a teacher. If you hadn't chosen this school, maybe you could have avoided meeting Joel—back then and now. You might have never met if you had chosen a different career path. If you never met, then—

A familiar voice said your name and roused you from your endless ‘what ifs.’ Your head snapped toward the door and saw Joel standing with Sarah at his side. He didn’t need to say anything else; he saw everything written on your face—the anger, the pain, the exhaustion. He saw right through your hard exterior—he always did. And you hated him all over again.

“Hello, Sarah,” you greeted her with a tight smile. You kept your eyes below Joel’s neck when you greeted him. “Hello, Mr. Miller.”

You didn’t want to spend another second lost in the dark brown of his eyes, wondering about what could have happened if things had been different. You pulled Sarah’s report from your pile of papers and jotted down the list of what to talk about and how quickly you could sum it up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something in Joel’s hand, his bruised knuckles squeezing it tight.

Sarah went to one of the desks, readying herself to sit down. You held out a hand to stop her, urging her to remain standing.

You started, “I’ll keep it short and sweet, so I don’t waste any of your time.”

“What happened to your hand?” Joel’s voice radiated around the room, the concerned tone vibrating through your body.

You glanced at your hand and realized it was red and scabbed with cuts from cleaning the house—you hadn’t been particularly careful or safe when you picked up the broken pieces. You dropped your arms to your sides, keeping your features schooled and replacing any emotions with the professionalism you had mastered through the years.

“Like I was saying.” You cleared your throat. “Sarah has done great on the units so far this year. She’s among the highest-scoring students in the class and did exceptionally well on our poetry unit. I do not doubt the rest of the year will be even greater academically for her.”

Sarah stood awkwardly between you and Joel, her teeth chewing into her bottom lip. Joel shifted beside her, his hands drawn behind his back, keeping whatever he held a secret. You looked over your paper again, skimming the words that had been pre-written weeks ago.

“I have no concerns about Sarah or her capabilities in the class, so I think we should end it there,” you said. If this had been any other student, you would have spent more time talking them up and genuinely putting effort into the conference. But you wanted nothing more than to see them both walk out the door and leave.

Joel repeated your name, attempting to capture your attention. It worked, but not to his benefit.

“I am your daughter’s teacher, Mr. Miller,” you snapped. “Please address me correctly.”

You glared at him, finally meeting his eyes. He looked just as awful as you did. The glimmering amber of his eyes had dulled to a dark color you had never seen before, and his patchy beard was far past unkempt, the dark, wiry hairs traveling down his neck. Even his tan skin looked paler than you could recall.

Good, you thought. You wanted Joel to suffer.

“Miss Smith,” he tried again, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

“Unless you have a question about Sarah or the class material, there isn’t anything else to discuss,” you countered, clenching your jaw.

Joel turned his head toward Sarah, giving her a brief nod. She slid her eyes to you again, their hazel-colored softness filled with concern. Before you could question it, she moved toward the door, leaving you alone with Joel faster than you could register.

“Sarah!” You called, stomping to the door.

She was already running down the hallway, curls bouncing around her head.

Your body muscles tightened and contracted as you stood helplessly in the doorway. Joel’s warmth swarmed around you, even at the healthy distance he maintained.

“Hey,” Joel said from behind you.

You glanced back over your shoulder, watching as Joel brought forward the item he had hidden behind his back. It was a book. You recognized it immediately. Romeo and Juliet.

“Look, I just—.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his biceps flexing under the cotton sleeves of his shirt. “I just wanted to bring this to you. It’s yours. I kept it all these years after the accident. I don’t really know why. I mean, I do know why. It’s stupid, but it’s your book, and you deserve it back.”

“Oh.” You blinked up at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Still got all your notes and scribbles,” he sighed, handing it to you. “Used to lay up at night with it, readin’ what you wrote on the sides of the pages after the accident. Y’know, I already knew it was your favorite when I asked you. I just wanted to hear y’talk ‘bout it one more time. Y’used to talk my ear off ‘bout your favorite books.” He laughed at a memory you didn’t know existed. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer. Y’have a good day, Miss Smith.”

He placed the book in your hands, his body brushing your shoulder as he walked out the door. Words lodged in your throat, words you didn’t want to say. The anger you were carrying inside you was becoming unbearable, but in the same breath, you hurt for him just the same.

Joel was long gone when the words finally came out, and you whispered thank you as you held the worn-down book between your hands.

You half-considered throwing away the book when you got home, your hand hovering over the trash bin with the book grasped between your shaking fingers. There wasn’t an ounce of you that wanted to open it and see your writing. Joel had carried this with him for years, holding onto a secret only he could remember. He had read this play probably a thousand times before he had even asked about it on the soccer fields. The facade of ‘doing research’ was a lie; he only wanted to share a moment of the past with you. A moment you couldn’t remember and a moment he only wanted to relive, even for just a few seconds. And you did it. You gave him hope that his plan would work, never knowing the truth.

You hated him. But it wasn’t enough hate to drown out the immense suffering of still falling in love.

Walking to your closet, you found the darkest corner and buried the book deep into the shadows. You’d be ready to flip through the pages one day, but you needed time.

Sitting back on your heels, you stared at the cuts along your hands and felt absolutely nothing. There was no more anger.

There was nothing.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x teacher!f!reader #joel miller #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #i need a better word than angst at this point #angst angst angst

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mieczyslawsravenclaw · 2 months

Text

Best Friends, Is That All? - Stiles Stilinski

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Pairing - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Just a regular ride in Stilesʼ jeep…Or it would be, if the love-struck fool could stop asking you how you feel about him. Guess someone's got a different kind of ride in mind...

•Warnings/Content - Pretty much all bases covered, they definitely fuck, tons of begging and mentions of markings and scratching, they use a condom bc SAFETY, oral oral lots of oral, TONS of petnames sorry its cheesy ik but I canʼt help it, lots of praise too bc thatʼs tasty, oh yeah and boys whimpering bc thatʼs just hot asf, they're in love so it's a little fluffier but still VERY spicy

•Word Count - 4.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - As always, just want to write about the spicy ideas I get from having spicy dreams, I feel like this oneʼs a little better than the last one but who knows? >_< /// (YA'LL I EXPECTED LIKE 4 LIKES ON MY SPENCER BLURB AND I GOT OVER 200 TY????? WTF???? )

•Additional Tags - they fuck in the jeep!, stiles is a whore for begging, theyʼre obsessed with eachother ffs, Switch!Stiles but mostly Sub!Stiles, he talks her through it UGH YES, CONSENT IS KEY, heʼs okay with whatever even if that means he doesnʼt get laid, Stiles is one cocky SOB with BDE and just a big dick oops, theyʼre for sure gonna fuck again before the night is over hehehe

“Do you get nervous?ˮ

The question takes me by surprise - Up until now, it had been a normal, routine drive with Stiles, albeit more fidgety than usual from his side. But once the question has left his lips, heʼs even more so, if thatʼs possible.

“Do I…yeah, definitely. Of course I do.ˮ I quirk my eyebrow at him; Heʼs avoiding my eyeline, focused far too much on the road ahead.

Something else, another question maybe, passes his lips, but itʼs far too quiet for me to catch. The poor thing is redder than a tomato, tapping his hands on the wheel as he starts to drive just a little faster unknowingly.

“Huh?ˮ

“A-About…M-mmmmm.ˮ Stiles stutters, dragging out his thought. The jeep seems to follow its driver, stuttering a bit on the road as he pushes the pedal down further.

“Sti, are you okay?ˮ

“Nervous.ˮ He repeats the word like heʼs reading it from a dictionary, not like heʼs using it as a self description. Weʼre getting further into the back roads now, and if I didnʼt know any better, Iʼd think he was bringing me out here to kill me or something.

“Pull over a sec, yeah?ˮ

He nods, bringing the jeep to a crawl along a forest road that could more accurately be called a trail, if anything. The silence is filled only by the bumping of the tires on the gravel, until we reach a stopping point, surrounded by nothing but trees for miles.

“Whatʼs eating at you, Stilinski?ˮ I turn in my seat, eyeing him in the mid-day light. Filtered through the jeepʼs dusty windows, he looks like a modern god, and my heart can hardly take it. Iʼve loved this poor boy a long time, but Iʼve never been brave enough to say it. And now, weʼre all alone in the woods for who knows what reason, and Iʼm more nervous than ever.

“Dʼyou ever get nervous…about me?ˮ He manages, his eyes squeezing shut and his fists clenching tight. He lets out a huge breath, then continues in a ramble, “God, I canʼt believe I even just asked that. Holy shit. I mean, you make me so nervous. Dʼyou know that? Youʼre my best friend, and you make me so nervous I feel like I canʼt even breathe, I want you to just reach over and break the distance between us and give in and just take me. God-ˮ

“Sti.ˮ It comes out half-choked. The lump in my throat swells - oh, my god, he likes me too? - as I scoot ever closer to him.

“Oh, of course not,ˮ He sighs, eyes still closed. He doesnʼt see me shift again, within touching distance, he just keeps on with his nervous blabber. “I mean, someone as beautiful as you with a guy like me? Come on, Stiles, get real.ˮ

“Stiles. Look at me, damn it.ˮ Hands shaking, Iʼm reaching over to touch him when he listens to me, turning and looking all in one motion.

“Oh, hi there.ˮ He blurts, flushing crimson.

“Yes, I get nervous about you, too.ˮ I can hardly believe Iʼm uttering the words. But my fear is trumped by the desperate need for him, right here and right now. I canʼt believe of all times and places, this is where itʼs gonna happen, but I donʼt quite care at the same point, either.

“You do?ˮ

“Stiles, I can barely contain myself around you. These past few months especially, I just-ˮ My reaching hands are still hanging near him, and he notices, finally, taking them in his own. I let out a shaking breath, closing my own eyes in desperate need to escape his searching gaze that sends my pulse skyrocketing. “You-Youʼre everything, do you know that? Iʼve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didnʼt think youʼd even look at me like that, I just thought-ˮ

“Best friends, nothing more?ˮ He chuckles softly, and I can sense the way his lips curl, not even needing to see it to know it. “Yeah, sounds familiar. Hey, look at me. I like you, you idiot.ˮ

My eyes open at the last few words, and seeing it straight from his mouth makes me lose myself for a moment. All I can do is blankly stare, my stomach doing flips. He likes me, he likes me, he likes me!

“Can you say something?ˮ He groans, eyes flicking between my own and down to my mouth. “Like, maybe confirm to me that you like me back? I mean, you kinda said as much, but I just really wanna hear you say it. Can you say it? Is that okay? Youʼre killing me, here-ˮ

“I like you too. Of course I do, who wouldnʼt?ˮ

“You do. For sure? Not just tryna pity me, are you?ˮ He quips, but itʼs clearly halfhearted.

“I really like you, dumbass.ˮ I move closer, dying for something to happen. Anything.

“Are you gonna kiss me now? Or am I gonna kiss you? Somebodyʼs gotta kiss somebody here, or Iʼm gonna lose it. Please, Iʼm begging you.ˮ

“Oh, youʼre begging me now?ˮ I smirk.

“Absolutely I am. If we were outside Iʼd be on my knees for you. Please, just fucking-ˮ He lets go of my hands, reaching for my waist as I grab at his collar.

We meld like itʼs second nature, lips forming together with a satisfied groan from Stiles that makes my legs weak. Somehow, I climb onto him in this cramped little jeep, bumping the steering wheel with my ass. He laughs, almost immediately going back to kissing me, a bit harder now. Itʼs clear in the way I grind my hips down to him with what I feel rising back to meet me that this is gonna take up a lot of our time together today.

I wonder for a moment if anyone will assume what weʼve gotten up to. Of course, Allison knows how I feel about Stiles, Iʼve told her a million times. I wonder if heʼs told Scott. Iʼm sure he has.

“Youʼre thinking too much,ˮ He growls, biting my lip. I moan back. “Thatʼs a lot coming from me,ˮ Another kiss, coming down my jaw now as I catch my breath. “I know. But…what can I do to get your mind back to me, hmm?ˮ

“That. Keep doing that.ˮ My hands tangle in the back of his hair, the tousled sort-of-waves that have grown out as of late being tugged as he nips at my neck.

“You want me to keep begging for you too?ˮ He teases, his lips coming up to my ear. “Cause I can do that all day, baby.ˮ

I nod, unable to grasp words with his breath against me.

“You gonna let me take you here, right now? Itʼs killing me to feel you on me like this and not have you. Please, let me have you, I canʼt stand it.ˮ

“T-tell me what you want me to do.ˮ I grasp harder at his hair, and he lets out a whimper. Oh, my god, that.

“I want you to fuckinʼ destroy me, and Iʼll beg until you do. God, Iʼm shameless, I donʼt even care if weʼre out here all alone or not, just please for the love of fuck, ride me like nothing else matters.ˮ

I pull his lips back to mine, silencing him for a time as we continue to make our own rhythm, learning one another with moans and laughs and tension unparalleled. Itʼs great, too great-I smack my head against the jeepʼs roof, letting out a yelp.

“Oh, shit-ˮ Stiles pulls me down against him, biting his lip when I land.

“Iʼm okay. Ow.ˮ

“How about we move this to the back?ˮ He pops the door open, letting me out first. Despite his words, heʼs back on my neck the moment weʼre outside, making it hard for me to push the seat down to get into the back.

“Stiles…ˮ I sigh, fumbling with the latch.

“Sorry, just want you-god, just want you so bad.ˮ He pulls back, reaching forward and sending the seat down with a practiced grasp.

I clamber inside, watching him hyperfocus on giving us as much room as possible. Front seats pushed down and forward, clutter thrown into the front, then heʼs back on me, kissing me and tugging at my shorts.

“Can I…?ˮ He motions, and I nod, letting him pull them down. His lips come back to mine, his fingers playing at the edge of my panties.

“Please-ˮ

“Youʼre begging now?ˮ He chuckles, his voice lower and throatier. Gods, Iʼm wet as fuck just from that.

“Shamelessly.ˮ I echo his earlier words, earning another small laugh.

“You want me, baby? How bad?ˮ He teases, hand grasping at my hip.

“Real-Really bad. Want you so bad, want you to-ˮ I canʼt even finish the thought, as he presses against my clit with his thumb. I moan, bucking up against him.

“Sorry, Iʼm impatient, you know that.ˮ He amends, kissing down my jaw and pulling back. He sits me up against the door, pulling my legs up and pressing a deep kiss against my opening. “Youʼre soaking, I can tell even through these little things.ˮ

I shudder, eyeing him in between my legs. Itʼs a sight to behold, and he isnʼt even getting started yet.

“Howʼs about we take em off, huh? Donʼt need these where weʼre going.ˮ He discards the fabric, and when his eyes meet the heat pooling below my belly, his jaw goes slack. I could almost swear he was drooling.

For a moment, Iʼm self conscious, folding in on my body under his gaze. But he holds my thighs back down, shaking his head.

“Uh-uh. No shame, right, princess?ˮ He hovers over me, eyes flicking back and forth between his focus and my face. “Now, you just let me know what feels good and what doesnʼt, okay? Wanna make sure you enjoy yourself.ˮ

“Stiles, Iʼm dying here, please just touch me already.ˮ

He smirks, another shake of the head, this one with a cocky air to it.

“If you insist, sweetheart.ˮ He brings his lips down to meet my opening, licking a stripe up that sends my hands grasping at the jeepʼs seat.

“Sti-ˮ

He hums against me, his grip on my thighs tightening. A few more precise licks, and heʼs delving into my core, filling the jeep with my desperate cries. Fuck, heʼs good, and Iʼm already closer by the minute.

“Taste so good, baby…ˮ He murmurs, getting lost in the task as my hands tug at his hair. When he shifts up to suck at my clit, the noise it brings from me is almost inhuman. “Feel good?ˮ

“Yes- oh my god, yes-ˮ

“Want more? How does this feel, hmm?ˮ He presses a finger to my opening, and I push against him, wordlessly begging. He chuckles, pushing it in fluidly. One, a few motions, and clearly Iʼm still desperate so he adds in another. “Talk to me, baby. Use your words.ˮ

“You want me to talk right now?ˮ I moan, my mind spinning in the pleasure-filled void heʼs trapped me in.

“I know, itʼs just too good, huh? You donʼt have to talk, your noises are more than enough.ˮ He curls his fingers, pulling against a sweet spot that has me crying out.

“Stiles!ˮ

Back down to me with his lips now, too, I can feel the smirk that starts up hearing me say his name like that. He knows exactly where he has me, and heʼs gonna relish in it. Not only are his fingers working magic now, but along with his tongue? Iʼm gonna break, and he knows it.

“Iʼm-Oh, donʼt stop-ˮ

A hummed approval is all I get from the usually chatty lips of Stiles Stilinski, his beard that heʼs let grow in recently brushing over me while he brings me to the edge. Iʼm practically drowning in the pleasure, and heʼs the air I need. One more fluid motion, just the right one, and Iʼm spilling curses from my mouth and wetness from my heat. He laps it up heartily, a satisfied groan from the recess of his throat vibrating against me.

“You…I just…wow.ˮ He pauses for a moment to look over me with a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his lips. I flush, back to being nervous under his eye.

“Stunned you into silence, eh, Stilinski?ˮ

“Oh, Iʼm far from done. Just figured Iʼd give you a break.ˮ He quips with a smirk.

“I donʼt need one.ˮ I blurt, the words faster than my brain.

“No?ˮ He laughs. “Okay, then. Well, if thatʼs the case, Iʼm begging you to get back to being all over me.ˮ

“In what way?ˮ I smirk, looking at his coated fingers.

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Funny.ˮ Keeping up eye contact, he licks his fingers clean. He seems to enjoy the groan it elicits from me. “Like that, huh? Iʼm looking forward to finding out what else you like.ˮ

I sit up, pressing to him once again. He tastes like me, and chuckles against my kiss. The clink of undoing his belt buckle becomes the sounds of rustling fabrics, my shirt tossed, his gone. His chest to mine, warm and inviting, and his pants kicked to the side. I fumble with my bra, my cheeks red.

“I…ˮ

“Yʼknow we can stop anytime, yeah?ˮ He amends, sensing my hesitation. “Like, of course Iʼm okay with whatever, I want you in all the ways. But only if youʼre comfortable. Consentʼs important.ˮ

“Oh, I want you. I want all of you, of course I do.ˮ I sigh. “Just…real nervous about how I look.ˮ

“You?ˮ Heʼs incredulous, pulling back and sweeping my body with his gaze. “Holy shit, no way. Nuh uh. You, youʼre…God, youʼre gorgeous, are you kidding me? Every part of you fits just right with the other, promise. You donʼt have to do anything you donʼt wanna do, but you gotta know that. You gotta know Iʼm gonna love how you look. I donʼt even need to have seen it yet to know. You just…are.ˮ

Iʼve been rendered speechless, and all I can do is take it off while he rambles.

“Not to say that you gotta just cause Iʼm saying all this. You get that, right? Iʼm not saying it just to get you to-ˮ He stops cold when Iʼve tossed the bra, my hands still hiding the majority of my chest. With a gentle grasp, he reaches to uncover me. “Can I…?ˮ

“Yeah, Iʼm just nervous.ˮ

“Thatʼs okay. Me, too. Youʼre beautiful though.ˮ He lifts my cover away softly, eyeing me with precision and adoration. He pokes at the moles and freckles that adorn my upper body, smiling as his eyes meet mine again. “See? Perfect. Nothing to worry about.ˮ

“Stiles, I adore you.ˮ I blurt, tears starting to form.

“Oh, sweetie.ˮ He pulls me closer, kissing my nose. “We can stop if youʼre really too nervous. I donʼt mind. Iʼll just jack off later or something, no big.ˮ

I snort at his words. “As much as Iʼd love to watch that. No, Iʼm okay. Just needed a moment, I guess. Trust me, Iʼm still dying for you.ˮ

His face goes red. “Youʼd- huh? Wow, thatʼs an image. Maybe another time, yeah? No shortage of things to think about for that, especially now Iʼve seen you and itʼs not just my imagination spurring me on.ˮ

“Youʼll have more to go on soon, too.ˮ I pull him back down onto me, kissing him.

“Fuck, youʼre hot.ˮ He moans. “Youʼre killing me.ˮ

“Destroying you,ˮ I correct him. “Thatʼs what you wanted, isnʼt it?ˮ

“Still want it,ˮ He grasps at me, nothing but his boxers to hide that want now. “Very much still want it.ˮ

More kissing ensues, and weʼre groping at eachother like weʼre high-schoolers again. Somehow, at some point, heʼs as bare as I am now and the way weʼre pressed to one another is the most tempting thing Iʼve ever experienced in my entire life.

“Hey, so, uh- not to seem like a copycat or anything, but…ˮ He breathes against my lips, his voice catching. “Yʼknow, nervous about how I look, now that Iʼm thinking about it. Not really very manly of me, I know, whatever.ˮ

“Fuck manliness,ˮ I amend, letting him pull back. “Youʼre perfect, you…oh, how could you not be?ˮ

What a sight he is to behold, in all his naked glory. Goosebumps pepper my skin as I look him over, from the moles that adorn him across his body the same way they do across his face, to the burning red that sits underneath his pale skin…to of course what heʼs referencing concern over the most. And thereʼs certainly none needed, in my opinion. No concerns, except how Iʼm gonna need to stretch out around that. Oh, my.

“Stiles…ˮ My voice, my gaze, softens. His shoulders drop. “Youʼre stunning.ˮ

“Not just saying that, are you?ˮ He brushes non-existent dirt from his shoulder. “My ego will be sorely bruised.ˮ

“Should I tell you or should I show you?ˮ I lick my lips, gaze going between his legs and back to his face. The noise he makes would be comical in any other circumstance.

“Fuck, definitely show me.ˮ

Now, itʼs his turn to lie back, and Iʼm in control. I must have absolutely stunned him, because heʼs got nothing to say, just watching me as I lower over him. Once I begin to kiss at and lick stripes over him, though, heʼs got plenty to say - I donʼt recognize half the curses he lets fly, they must be Polish or something. But fly they do, and his hand is at my hair when I start to take him in my mouth, grasp tight.

“Oh, my god-ˮ

I keep it up until he stops me a few moments later, a funny little quirk to his brows.

“God, I donʼt ever wanna stop this, but if you keep going like that Iʼm gonna fuckinʼ bust, and I gotta know what you feel like riding me first, please?ˮ He reaches blindly around, cursing. “Fuckinʼ - just need my wallet, whereʼd my jeans go?ˮ

I laugh, pulling back to help his search. When he comes up with the item in question, I understand- protection, no shit.

“Yeah, okay, now Iʼm ready.ˮ He nods after heʼs prepared himself, sitting up against the seat. He helps position me over him, eyes locked. “Oh, my god, is this actually real? I feel like Iʼm in some kinda magical dream.ˮ

“Very real. I remember what I had for breakfast and everything.ˮ I quip, trying to ease the nerves. They wonʼt go, though, and the knot in my stomach is ever-tighter as he brushes against my opening. “Fuck, I want you inside me, now.ˮ

“Kinda up to you, there.ˮ He holds me tight around the waist, eyes pleading. “Iʼm ready when you are, though, rock my fuckinʼ world sweetheart.ˮ

“Fuuuuuck, youʼre tight.ˮ He groans. “So thatʼs how you feel. No imagination or anything my hands can do compares to that.ˮ

The need is too great to put it off any longer; I let myself push down to meet him, the entering gasps we let out mingling in the short bit of air between us. His head falls back, his hands only guides as I bring myself further down, slowly, slowly, slowly. I take a moment around the first few inches to breathe; as ridiculous as it sounds, Iʼve never had someone quite as…gifted as him.

“Iʼm only getting started,ˮ I reply. “Genuinely, in all honesty, not a joke or anything. Youʼre…a lot to take.ˮ

“Having fun strokinʼ my ego?ˮ He chuckles.

“Tilʼ you give me something else to stroke.ˮ

“Fuck, thatʼs a promise.ˮ He ruts up against me, bringing a cry from my lips. “Shit, sorry, reflex. You feel so good, I just want more of you. Did I hurt you?ˮ

“No, it felt too good.ˮ I admit. “Just taking it slow cause Iʼm not really used to anything this…ˮ

“Big?ˮ Heʼs got the widest smirk on his face now.

“Howʼs that for your precious ego?ˮ I flirt, pushing down another bit with a sharp breath. The stretching pain is worth it for the look on his face.

“My ego is just fine. Big, just like my- Oh, my god-ˮ He stutters out, his bravado going out the window when I start to rock my hips back and forth. And was that a whimper? “Oh, please donʼt stop, keep going. Oh, god-ˮ

“Long as you keep begging.ˮ

The more I move, the easier it gets to take him, until Iʼm fairly close to bottoming out. Heʼs holding me closer than ever, kissing me whenever he gets the chance to, and the noises and whimpers havenʼt stopped. It spurs me, the collision of our bodies growing ever-faster as he cries my name and begs me not to stop. I wonʼt, I canʼt, itʼs all too good and Iʼm chasing a high that I find myself soon riding out onto him. Now, Iʼll be the one saying his name, his real name.

“God, that sounds so good coming from you,ˮ He moans, “Iʼve never heard it sound so good.ˮ

“Hereʼs to many more.ˮ I stutter out between the motions weʼre making and the sounds accompanying. Heʼs less in control now, thrusting up to meet me and pushing me down to him. Heʼs made plenty of marks on me, from the hickeys littering my skin to the surefire bruising my hips will have from his grasp. I can only hope to either hide whatʼs visible or risk the teasing the pack will no doubt give us later.

“Please, take me all the way, Iʼll help you through it.ˮ He begs, kissing me again once Iʼve come down far enough. “Youʼve got this, baby, please?ˮ

No words, just a resolute nod, and his response is a repeated thanks. I push further, to the very end of him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Good, baby- fuck , youʼre doing good, pretty girl. So good, so good for me. There you go.ˮ He kisses my burning skin, the devouring fire weʼve made together consuming us both as I shift around under his grasp. He doesnʼt force, only guides, and makes a rhythm for me to follow with sputtered curses abounding. “God, you feel so good. Does it feel good for you? Hurt?ˮ

“Only enough to make me want it more,ˮ I moan, letting my head drop to his shoulder. “F-fuck me.ˮ

“Is that a statement or a request?ˮ He doesnʼt wait for an answer as I slow, taking the lead and snapping up into me. Once, twice, I lose count. He seems to get lost, too, senseless mumbles and moans filling the jeep as my hand streaks the fogged window. Heʼs entirely filled me up, and I want for nothing more than to go until I canʼt anymore.

He guards my head when I raise back up, making sure I wonʼt hit the roof again, and when it starts to rain in the secluded forest weʼve hidden ourselves in, itʼs not the only thing sending waves crashing down around us. Another thing I lose count of - heʼs far too good at this, and I tell him so.

“Been thinkinʼ about this for a while, so that counts as practice, yeah?ˮ The sweat sticks a bit of his hair to his forehead, and he looks about ready to tire out.

“You losing steam on me?ˮ I tease, brushing his hair back.

“Hell, no!ˮ He groans when I move my hips, sat bottomed out but doing nothing else. “Iʼm pretty close, thatʼs all. But when Iʼm done with you here Iʼm not done with you for the night, if youʼre willing.ˮ

“Well, if youʼre close…ˮ My lips curl deviously, and I bring myself back to the pace and movement that had had him howling earlier. Heʼs back to it in an instant, but his whines are more pronounced, drug out.

“Fuck, please, please donʼt stop-ˮ

“Gonna cum for me?ˮ

“Y-yes, yes-ˮ

“Good.ˮ Itʼs like a growl from me, and his cries only grow from it, until Iʼm sure at least anyone with supernatural hearing can catch onto us if theyʼre anywhere near.

“Oh- Oh, my god, Iʼm gonna-ˮ Stiles holds me tight, the most animalistic noise of it all loosing from his lips as he loads the condom full inside me. Weʼre hot, sweaty, and as close together as we possibly can be, but he still pulls me closer, taking a deep, heavy breath.

“So…how was I?ˮ

His laugh is quick, choked.

“Are you serious? Fuck, that was amazing. Iʼd just as soon do it again, but Iʼm…a little depleted at the moment.ˮ He eyes where we meet with an eyebrow wiggle. “Hey, we just had sex.ˮ

“That we did.ˮ I laugh.

“You and me, best friends. Just had sex. Well, we might wanna rethink that whole just best friends idea, huh?ˮ He kisses my cheek, letting out a content sigh. “No rush on that, Iʼm just talking. You know how I get. Just…excited that this happened. That it is happening. And…Iʼd be okay with calling you something more than my best friend. If youʼre into that.ˮ

“Very much into that.ˮ

“So…girlfriend?ˮ

“Shit, I was gonna say fiancee or wife. Or soulmate.ˮ

His eyes bug for a moment, then he starts to laugh.

“Youʼre fuckinʼ with me. Youʼre hilarious. Alright, girlfriend-future-fiancee-wife-soulmate-whatever-you-want, howʼs that sound?ˮ

“A little long, if Iʼm being honest.ˮ

“Long didnʼt seem to bother you just a moment ago.ˮ

“Mieczyslaw!ˮ

“Still sounds beautiful cominʼ from you. Like…ˮ He catches my glare, and smirks. “Nevermind. Letʼs get this cleaned up and head back, huh? Thereʼs a pizza about to be made with our names on it.ˮ

#stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski #sub!stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader

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saffronique · 11 months

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Was just struck by the overwhelming urge to rate Stormlight characters on their driving ability. I have no evidence I'm going off of vibes alone. Here they are in no particular order:

Dalinar- I think he's generally a fine driver now, though still prone to bouts of road rage when someone won't let him merge. Very bad driver in his youth. 5/10

Jasnah- I think she would be a shockingly bad driver. She seems like the kind of person that believes the rules of the road apply to everyone other than her. The type to run a red light because the meeting she's going to is important. Never uses her turn signals because if shes in the left lane it should be obvious shes making a left turn. Despite her lack of care she always arrives safely and without a ticket, somehow. Would fit right in in Northern Virginia. Also the worst backseat driver ever. 3/10

Sadeas- Good driver but employs bad practices. When traffic is heavy he uses the shoulder of the road as his own personal lane. Only person capable of surviving New York traffic. 6/10

Kaladin- Fantastic driver but kind of slow. Won't make a left turn unless there is literally no other car on the road. Always follows the speed limit and uses his turn indicators. Also the type to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and let him drive when he's in heavy traffic. 8/10

Syl- Cannot be allowed to drive under any circumstances. Bridge 4 let her drive once and she backed the car into a mailbox. 0/10

Shallan- Shes a bad driver but better than Jasnah. Her following distance is atrocious and she frequently rear ends people, but she does at least try to follow the rules of the road. 4/10

Veil- Worse than Shallan but says she's better. Will take a turn at 60 to try and make the car drift. 2/10

Radiant- Fantastic driver who follows the ruled perfectly. Not great at responding to unexpected situations though. 8/10

Venli- Drives like a psychopath. Weaves in and out of lanes to get there 30 seconds faster. If traffic is bad she will dead ass make a U turn in the middle of the road over a double yellow to leave. 1/10

Rock- Great driver, but hates driving. Not much more to say. 8/10

Sigzil- Best driver in bridge 4, only slightly held back by the fact that he knows every obscure rule and expects everyone else driving does also. 9/10

Moash- Believes the rules of the road are stupid and there to hold him back. The kind of guy who will not let you merge in front of him like his life depends on it. Would go 100 in a school zone for fun. 2/10

The Lopen- The guy that tells you he's a great driver but starts playing pokemon go while behind the wheel because he can absolutely do both. 4/10

Szeth- Mediocre driver prone to shocking episodes of road rage. The kind of guy who would slam the brakes to make the car behind him rear end him out of spite if they were following too close. 5/10

Navani- Fantastic driver. Always has the newest lane correcting tech and such installed on her vehicle. 10/10

Adolin- Cannot stay focused on the road. Type of guy who will look over his shoulder for like 15 seconds to carry on a conversation until Shallan yells at him to look at the road. Horrible speeder. Usually manages to avoid crashing though. 3/10

Wit- Shockingly competent driver. I mean he had all that experience with Wax, so... 10/10

Gavilar- The kind of douche who lifts his truck and has his mufflers removed so he can rev his obnoxious engine whole going through neighborhoods. 1/10

Renarin- He's a good driver in small towns and on winding, narrow country roads, but cannot handle big city traffic. Luckily he knows and readily admits this. 7/10

BONUS:

Rlain- I feel like he's just a typical good driver. Follows the rules as best he can, goes a few miles over the speed limit on the freeway, but nothing crazy. 8/10

Kelsier- It's a miracle he's survived this long with the way he drives. He would make a left on red without hesitation. Vin screamed the first time she rode with him. 1/10

#stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #cosmere #the stormlight archive #stormlight #adolin kholin #dalinar kholin #torol sadeas #navani kholin #renarin kholin #shallan davar #kelsier

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

We'll give it a shot

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: G

CW: aftermath of injury; aftermath of trauma

Tags: Established relationship; recovery; fluff

Notes: Continued from days 3 and 18 - @house-of-the-moving-image and I just wanted them to be happy after all we put them through. 😭❤️

Steve has always been all movement, all fluid grace, for as long as Eddie remembers. On the pitch, in the pool. Shielding others with his own body, his strength. He was proud of this. It was the one thing he knew he was good at.

And then Vecna nearly twisted his limbs from his body. Broke his arm in three different places, his leg in five.

“They say I'll need to be patient,” Steve tells Eddie a few months after everything, hands tangled over the middle console of the van. It's late December and they're on their way back from physical therapy. “Could be months before I walk without crutches. Years maybe before I'm back to the way I was before… or close.”

Eddie clenches his free hand around the steering wheel, like Steve clung to that stupid handrail earlier. White-knuckled and pale-faced, jaw locked tight as he struggled to take a few shaky steps. Not for the first time, he wishes that he'd been faster, pulled him out sooner-

“Eds.”

He snaps back to the present as if pulled by a bungee rope. Steve’s eyes are warm and soft.

“Stop it,” he says, gentle and firm and so very strong, so very Steve. Eddie needs to swallow against the sudden thickness clogging his throat. “You've nothing to hold against yourself. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Eddie huffs, eyes stubbornly trained on the snowy road. “I helped, is all. You can do this, too. You'll be walking in no time, you just wait.”

“Dunno,” Steve mutters. He sounds so small, so broken, so very much not like himself, and Eddie wishes he could resurrect Vecna, simply to kill him again. Make it more painful this time, let him suffer like he made them suffer. “You saw me just now. Feels like I need to fight forever for every little inch of success.”

“Let's make a deal?”

The words are out before Eddie can think better of it, but the sadness on Steve’s face has given way to curiosity, so he shoulders on.

“We could make it a new year's resolution. If you manage to walk by … July, let's say, I'll quit smoking.”

“Oh, please!” Steve's eyebrow quirks. “As if you could.”

“Of course I could. I'm tired of you whining about my cigarette breath anyhow. What's wrong, big boy? Scared of getting your ass handed to you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grouses, but his mouth is curling into a smile and his eyes are sparkling. “It's on, dude!”

“Hell, yeah!” Eddie makes no attempt at hiding his smug grin. Count on Steve’s competitive streak to win him over. “It's so on!”

“Oh God,” Steve squawks the second his hands lose contact with the crutches. “It's off. Eds, it's off, give’m here.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eddie dances a step back - not far, still close enough to catch Steve in case he falls, but far enough to keep the crutches out of reach. “Just give it a shot, c’mon. You got this.”

Over the distance between them, their eyes meet.

“I've gotcha.”

Steve's eyes light up and a small laugh bubbles from his throat.

And then he walks.

Eddie makes sure to stay a bit ahead, spouting a never-ending string of encouragement and jokes and sweet nonsense. Just keeps talking so that Steve can focus on something other than the fear and the doubt. Guides him with his voice like he's done before, like he'll keep doing for as long as Steve needs, as long as he wants.

The first steps are unsure and wobbly, but soon enough, Steve finds his footing. They've both kicked off their shoes, and the dry summer grass is brittle under their naked feet, the earth soft and warm. The sound of their footfalls mingles with the whirr of the cicadas in the grass, the rush of his own blood in his ears, their mingled laughter, a gorgeous, wonderful symphony of alive, alive, alive.

When Steve’s legs give out and he stumbles, Eddie is there. He cushions their fall with his own body and they go down in a tangle of limbs and laughter, lips meeting before they even hit the ground. The crutches go clattering somewhere to the side.

“I did it!” Steve gasps against his mouth, and Eddie can't tell if the sound is more laugh or more sob. “Shit, did you- did you see that? I did it!”

“You did it,” Eddie rumbles, hands in Steve's hair, kissing his lips and nose and eyes and anything he can reach between words. Both their cheeks are wet with tears, but they're good tears, finally good tears, and he can’t tell whose they are anymore. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they’re alive, and here, and together. “Fuck yeah, you did, always knew you would. So strong, so amazing. Love you so much.”

Steve makes another sound, a raw thing so full of emotion it makes Eddie’s heart flutter, and crashes their lips together again, firmer, longer. Eddie sighs as a hesitant tongue coaxes at his lips, opens up, lets him in.

And then Steve groans and pulls back.

“What?” Eddie asks, insides twisting with worry. “Shit, did you hurt yourself? What-”

“‘m fine!” Steve wheezes, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You just taste like an ashtray, is all.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Eddie grouses while Steve rolls off him, flops onto his back in the grass. “I had like half a cig this morning.”

“Half a cig too much, then,” Steve beams up at him, all glinting teeth and gold-streaked hair in the sunlight, eyes sparkling with mirth and alive, alive, alive. “I win.”

Eddie pouts. “What though? Can't remember agreeing on a prize, this was all fun and-”

One strong, nimble hand tangles in the collar of his shirt, pulls him in.

“Shut up and kiss me, ash breath.”

Eddie has never obeyed an order more gladly in his life.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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millerscoffee · 7 months

Text

there's no such thing as good grief

1k | joel miller x reader

rating: G, i guess

warning: grief, parental loss, mentions of sarah and ellie, halloween, porch swinging, hand holding, soft!joel, joel is a guardian angel tbh. no use of y/n

A/N: this is a little self indulgent, i suppose. but i needed to write, i haven't written in, what, a month? and i wanted to oil the wheel. it's probably not the best, i kinda halfway proofread it, but that's okay. who better to navigate grief with than joel "the grief ain't good™️" miller? thanks for being cool about it.

Leaves of trees change colour before they shrivel and descend to the ground.

That’s just how life works.

That’s how it’s supposed to happen. And it was in Jackson.

It surprised you, even still, that in the depths of despair within humanity, traditions were so closely held to the chests of those still alive and willing to stoke its embers.

It’s dusk. The town’s children in makeshift costumes or ones from long ago in tattered material. You think about her, your mother. Halloween was never her particular favourite, but she had a soft spot for a sweet treat. You buried her on this day. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Today it’s hard.

You’re on your porch, and your light is on. The town made different types of toys for the kids of the community, you laid yours out on the porch.

For the most part, you’re okay. It’s been long enough now that your mother’s death wasn’t always the first thing you thought of every year. But it’s in the things that catch you off guard. A child giggling with her mother over a toy that looked silly.

It’s simple. It’s sweet. It makes you nauseous.

You’re swaying in your porch swing, staring off into the distance when you hear the heavy boots of someone familiar. It shows up before his voice.

“Y’alright?”

If you weren’t so numb, you’d be startled. Instead, your eyes shift up to the man who you know well enough by now to come up on your porch without permission.

You could nod. You could pretend you are okay and have him pull it out of you until the truth pours freely from your mouth, but what’s the point? Why hide it? There had been so much of your life that was dappled in pretending to be okay, whether it was self-preservation, or sheer obstinacy to admit it.

You didn’t have it in you.

Instead, you pat the spot next to you with a shrug.

“Been better.”

Joel liked that you were honest. Not that it mattered, not that he was here to praise you for exposing vulnerable parts of yourself to him. At least not like this. It was far removed from his intentions. He knew you had someone in your life that you had to bury, and he understood what that meant.

Grief lain with you both as he took place beside you.

His warmth, overcoming, radiating into your bones.

Swallowing on the knots in your throat, you nudge your knee against his and it’s natural.

You don’t know how it became so fucking natural.

You’d kept your distance from each other for so long. It seemed appropriate. No real reason to encounter each other, but one day you noticed Joel rubbing his chest. A telltale sign that you knew well. After that, you’d become inseparable to some extent, though never quite tiptoeing any major lines. He had your back, and you had his. It felt nice to be around someone so protective. And, god, did he feel that way with you.

As if life itself had been kickstarted into his system from years of feeling like a zombie.

All the same, you didn’t have to explain yourself to him to know what you mean.

“Yeah,” Joel pauses, his heel taking over the rocking motion, back and forth on the seat you share. “Hard for me, too. Y’need anything?”

Your chin turns to gaze at him. It was hard for him, too. You imagined how difficult it was to see children with their dad. At least he had Ellie, but even she needed her space from all this.

You focus on his side profile, the scar that remains as a reminder to the life he had before this horrible reality.

Then again, the horrible reality happened when he held Sarah’s dying body in his arms.

It sends a chill through you, your fingers instinctively running into the bear paw that was his hand. Rough and calloused, yet so open and willing to take yours.

Dichotomous.

As some sort of clairvoyant, he welcomes you, knowing the conversation could be said without words.

“Nuh uh.”

Just this, you want to say.

The gravel catches your throat now, but tears don’t tempt as readily as they used to. Call it being hardened, call it time. Grief wasn’t linear, but this year had a particular sting.

That’s about the time a child and her mother come up to trick or treat for one of the toys you’ve made. And although a smile appears on your face, Joel can see the sadness at the corners of your eyes. He waits to speak until they leave.

“Opposite ends of the same coin, I guess.”

You puff out an unamused laugh, gaze cast at your lap.

“Something like that,” chewing the corner of your cheek, he squeezes your fingers when you look up at him. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

Joel stops the porch swing, his eyes soft but dark – as if he’s going over what he’s had to replay in his head for so many years.

“What do you think?” He echoes quietly, enough to cause you to turn and face him.

“I think… I’m glad you stopped by. I think it’s very thoughtful of you to check on me.”

“Alright, she’s gone soft,” a small smile piles at the corner of his face, and you mirror it. Hard not to. A tear falls at both of your ability to find a crack of light.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Joel exhales in amusement, rocking the two of you again. Eyes close for a minute against the crisp air of autumn.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s quiet for a while after that. Your head rests on his shoulder. His scent brings you comfort. You don’t hardly realise all the kids and their parents as they make it home.

“...Joel?”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“Will you let me thank you?”

Joel turns his head, burying his nose in your hair.

“This is enough,” squeezing your fingers, he presses a tentative kiss to your temple. One without a scar, but a temple with trouble behind it, nonetheless. “It’s more than enough.”

How could you argue with that?

taglist, comment to be added: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @poodlebae @its-nebuleuse @harrieandharassed @msmorningstaarr

#joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #soft!joel #soft!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #by bee

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ganondoodle · 7 months

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you know, i talked about it before but i still, for a much more rare totk gameplay complaint-

i still cannot wrap my head around how it went all the way to the finished product to have 5 ghosts that love to glitch around and threaten your frame rate (espeically bad in combat) help in combat, 4 of which are MELEE fighters, AND have their abilities tied to their model forcing you to chase after them constantly if you want to use any of it AND ALSO give them collision so they can get knocked over cancelling their ability if it needs charging (RIJU!!), the one needing a long time to charge being not jsut one of the most useful and fun to use but then making that one also be one of tHE MELEE fighters meaning anytime you manage to catch her and activate it she instantly charges into battle and due to her being rather small and using short swords she basically sticks to the enemy like glue and keeps gettign knocked over, i swear yelling riju was my most spoken word in any type of combat in all my playtime

also how they teleport back and forth in and out of your arm the second you dare to look at a climable surface or are in one thats too small for them (even when you need them the most like yuno in one of those caves stuffed to the brim with destroyable rocks thatd take out all your swords if you did it by hand) or just .. randomly teleporting around but then can still get stuck on environmental collision until you cant even see them anymore (stares at sidon giving me a heart attack in the underground when he got caught on a light root until i was so far away he was barely visible and instead of teleporting he started to sprint at me with inhumane speed when i turned around making me frozen in shokc bc he turned dark in the distance for some reason making me think one of the creepy ghost soldiers was out to murder me, granted that was one of the best moments in the game for me, but also, imagine if they actually did that with one of the creepy ghost soldiers instead of it being a glitch??? another missed opportunity tbh)

how did that never come up during playtesting?? if they really were done somewhere in 2022 and spent the rest of the time with polish like they said how did that never come up?? i loved having the champ- sages around in their dungeons but the ghost version thingy wasnt really that optimal and id rather have their abilities be either integrated into your controls like in botw (tbh i find that really thoguhtful, to have your dead friends abilities they granted you inegrated into your basic controls as dynamically as they did) or in another ability wheel (like i did in my rewrite) with maybe mineru beign the only one you actually need around via summon since you can ride ... her

idk about anyone else but i only had them around bc i liked them walking around with me and was too lazy to constantly de and reactivate them but tbh i think it caused more annoyance to me than it brought anything interesting to it

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #tloz #totk #ganondoodles rants #idk why that came up again #but that needed to be said #i think it could have been integrated way better with even less work #thinking of a pure gameplay-mechanic perspective that is like my biggest problem #it feels so unfinished?#not good to me at least bc i wanted to use their abilities in combat but then spent more time on chasing them instead of the enemy lol

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sanjoongie · 3 months

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖: 𝕃𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕩/ ℙ𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖

🥀Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: sci fi au, space station au

🥀Trope: long distance relationship, ex to lovers

🥀Summary: when Yunho calls you one day, drunk and missing you, you let him guide you through some stress releasing phone sex

🥀Kinks: long distance sex, verbal instruction, dom! yunho, sub! reader, joint masturbation, video call sex, usage of toys

🥀Word Count: 1,515

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Eight: Experimental/ Nipple play 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Ten: Hate Sex

You were about to go for your afternoon run through the park that was built on the grav-wheel of your space station when you got a notification on your watch that you had an incoming call from your ex. You sighed, well aware that he would not stop calling you unless you at least answered.

“Yunho,” You answered blandly.

“Babe,” Yunho chirped at you in hello.

You looked at the planet timezones on your watch and it was way too late on earth for Yunho to be calling you about something reasonable. “Are you drunk?”

“Nooooooo,” Yunho replied.

“Yunho, you can’t be calling me like this,” You said, taking a seat back on the bunk of your room. “I broke up with you before I left on this mission, remember?”

“I know,” Yunho admitted, “But I missed you.”

“Goodbye, Yunho,” You proclaimed.

“No no, wait!” Yunho attempted to stop you.

“Yunho, you’re not making this easy!” You cried out in frustration.

“Did you find someone up there to fuck yet?” Yunho shot low. “I know how your libido is. And you don’t fuck randoms.”

“No, Yunho, I did not find someone up here to fuck,” You sighed heavily. “Not that that’s any of your business.”

Suddenly, Yunho turned the camera on on his side, and his face flashed on the screen before you. By the look of his rosy complexion, he had absolutely been drinking. “Let me fuck you then.”

You laughed bitterly. “I hate to break it to you, Yunho, but we’re a couple of lightyears away from each other right now. This isn’t a normal booty call.”

“Please turn your camera on,” Yunho pleaded, “I want to see you.”

You don’t know what’s worse, Yunho still having the hots for you or Yunho sounding like he still loved you. You might as well let this play out. If you hung up on him, he was just going to be calling again and again. So you pulled out the small camera that would hover and take in your form and turned it on.

“There’s my girl,” Yunho said softly, moving over your face as if he was attempting to memorize it again.

“I’m not your girl anymore, Yunho,” You gently remind him.

“You are,” Yunho insisted, “Watch.”

Yunho sat back, the camera taking in more of his form. You groaned when you saw he was wearing your favorite shirt on him. Then he said, “Pretty girl, won’t you open your mouth for me?”

Your jaw went slack, muscle memory from a time before. Then you clenched your jaw tight, in both anger and rebellion. “Really?”

Yunho had a tiny smile of confidence on his face. “See? Your body still knows who you belong to even though you refuse to acknowledge it.”

You turned your face away from the camera, feeling your throat go tight and hot tears prick the corners of your eyes. “What’s the point of this call, Yunho?”

“No, Babe, don’t cry!” Yunho lamented. “I wanted to hear your voice and see your face, even if you were pissed off at me.”

“I’m not pissed off at you, Yunho, I just don’t want to be pining after a man who is so far away from me that it would distract me from my mission.”

“Look at me,” Yunho commanded in a rough voice.

You brought your eyes upwards and saw Yunho had moved closer to the camera. “When was the last time you released some stress?”

You laughed bitterly. “Yunho!”

“I may not be your dom anymore. I may not be in charge of your wellbeing. But I still care. I can help you.”

“This is ridiculous,” You muttered. And yet your body found itself assuming the position in front of your bunk: feet tucked under you and your hands folded on your lap. You knew you needed the help and the release. The closer you got to the planet that your mission was on, the more tightly wound your body got.

“Close your eyes for me,” Yunho crooned. “Imagine that you’re sitting on my lap. You’ve been good today and I’m treating you.”

You didn’t like the way your body instantly tightened at that sentence but you had spent way too many years with Yunho for it to forget something so quickly. “Yu…Sir?”

“My hands are wandering all over your body,” Yunho’s even voice continued to paint the picture. “I’m running them down your arms, up your ribs, over your hips, just appreciating all your curves.”

You whimpered at the imagine of his large hands over your body. There was nothing you used to enjoy more than Yunho manhandling you. You used to be a ragdoll for him. And he used to fulfill you in ways that always made you sleep soundly at night.

“Were you a good girl for me?” Yunho’s deep voice permeated your eardrums.

“Yes, sir, I was good,” You replied.

“Then take your clothes off for me, pretty girl, I won’t tease you tonight,” He cooed.

You discarded your work out clothes and moved back to your previous stance. “Can we use the rose toy?” You asked.

“Wanna feel my tongue on your pretty pussy?” Yunho wondered.

“Wanna feel good,” You hummed.

“Go on,” Yunho gave you permission. “Spread your legs so I can eat you out.”

You prepared yourself and the chosen toy, lubing up everything. Yunho had always been a messy eater, an enthusiastic one, but a messy eater nonetheless. Anything to make sure his sub came and came hard.

You pushed down the tiny floating camera to the level of your cunt and Yunho groaned on the screen. “I miss your taste,” he admitted.

You missed the way Yunho would press your thighs down, effectively spreading your legs to max capacity. The way he would pepper your inner thighs with kisses, eyes looking up at you, waiting for you to beg for him. For Yunho, when he dommed you, you were his entire world and nothing else existed.

“Sir?”

“Let me hear all the cute noises you make when I eat you out, pretty girl.” Yunho gave you the go ahead to use the toy on yourself.

You let out a muffled moan as the toy laps at your folds on a low setting.

“Poor baby,” Yunho sympathized, “You really needed me, huh?”

“Need you so bad, sir,” You whimpered back.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Yunho praised you, “Taking all my love like the good girl you are.”

“I’m always good for you, Yunnie,” You can’t help but say, bucking up into the toy, “Can we go faster, sir?”

“You like my tongue on your clit that much, huh?” Yunho asked.

“Feels so good,” You slurred, half drunk on Yunho’s praise and the other half on the pleasure you were pretending he was giving you.

“Wanna come for your Sir?” Yunho prompted you. He cursed and you blinked wearily to see that he had his legs spread and was lazily rubbing one out while ordering what to do.

“Please, Yunho, please. Come with me. Nothing makes me happier than listening to your groans.”

Yunho smiled quite happily but shook his head. “This is all about you, Babe.”

You turned up the speed on the toy and then cast your head back onto the bunk behind you. “Fuck, Sir, your tongue, so good, hhhhhnn, I wanna come for you, please, please, please.”

“Go on, pretty girl, let my tongue take you away, come for me, let me taste your cum, give your sir exactly what he wants,” Yunho instructed.

Your hips stuttered forward, riding out your high, pushing the toy further into your folds, mimicking as Yunho used to do, dipping his tongue into your hole to scoop all your cum into his mouth.

There were no noises in your room for a moment, your toy turned off and discarded, before Yunho said, “Fuck, I missed you.”

“Yu--” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat. “Yunho--!”

“I know,” Yunho sighed rather glumly. “I just wanted to help you.”

“I--” You swallowed down some emotions. “I needed it.”

“You were so good for me, Babe,” Yunho couldn't help but push. “You did good.”

There was still a part of you that preened at Yunho’s praise. “Th-thank you, Sir.”

“You should go clean yourself up,” Yunho suggested, sounding wistful.

You gathered your clothing, finding yourself suddenly not willing to end the call.

“Yunho?”

“Mmm?” He hummed back at you.

“Do you think you could help me again?”

A pause, palpable and raw. And then, “If you let me order a toy for us, then yes.”

That made your proverbial ears perk up. “What kind of toy?

“The one where you get a scan of your pussy so I can fuck it and you get a scan of my dick so it can fuck you, and when i’m fucking your toy pussy, my toy dick moves as my dick is moving,” Yunho chuckled.

“Oh,” You said quietly, letting those words sink in.

“Yeah,” Yunho grinned, “So? You want to become my pretty girl again? Officially?”

🥀Day Eight: Experimental/ Nipple play 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Ten: Hate Sex

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #atz smut #jeong yunho smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #ღatz #topaz's work

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runninriot · 1 month

Text

written for @subeddieweek

complete fic posted on ao3

Sweet Thing

rated: E | tags: Client Eddie Munson, Pro Dom Steve Harrington, restraints, sensation play (nipple clamps, pinwheel), 18+ content | snippet, complete fic and tag list on ao3

He shouldn’t have favourites. Shouldn’t feel drawn more to one than to others. They’re all equal, all deserve the best (worst) treatment. It’s a job, a very unusual one but a job nonetheless. He’s here to serve, to execute what he’s being paid for – to make secret fantasies come true and not to succumb to his own.

But ever since the curly haired angel stepped foot into his dungeon some months ago, Steve found it hard to keep it strictly professional.

There is something about that man, Eddie, that messes with Steve’s head in a way he can’t really explain.

He’s good-looking, with dark ink scattered all over his pale skin. Slender but with defined muscles in his shoulders and arms. Has strong thighs, an ass that looks much too biteable, and he has these big, round puppy dog eyes that are especially pretty when they’re red-rimmed and teary.

Eddie is really something to look at and maybe that is why Steve is so hung up on him.

Thankfully, he’s good at pretending.

Can hide the fact that – although not in a physical sense – each session with him is as fulfilling for Steve as it is for the beautiful man currently splayed out on top of the latex sheets.

It’s a real treat to watch him writhe and shiver, his muscles tense from the enormous effort it takes for Eddie to try to hold still.

He fails miserably, can’t keep his arms and legs from instinctively tugging at the restraints keeping him bound to the bed.

Steve leans in close to Eddie’s ear, lips purposely grazing the shell to let the vibration of his voice tickle his skin.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

“Y-yes. ‘M sorry.”

Eddie strains his neck, obviously trying to bring some distance between himself and Steve’s mouth but he can’t get far.

“Y-yes,” Steve mocks him as he repeats Eddie’s stuttering response. “Yes what? Think you forgot something there, sweet thing. Do I have to remind you of the rules?”

Steve grabs him by his throat, the press of his fingers tight enough to force a desperate gasp out of him.

With his other hand, he tightens the clamp on Eddie’s left nipple, turns the screw once, twice until a pathetic little whimper leaves Eddie’s shiny, parted lips.

“Yes, Sir! I’m sorry, Sir. I- please, it hurts.”

Good, Steve laughs to himself, satisfied with the way Eddie already has this trembling in his voice like he’s close to crying. And isn’t that a beautiful thought. Eddie is always so pretty when he cries.

“You gonna behave now and stay still?”

Steve takes a moment to marvel at the view he’s presented with.

Eddie’s eyes are wet, a sheer layer of unshed tears glistening in the dim light of the candles shining down on them from the sideboard to their left.

He is tied down, arms and legs forming an x-shape where he’s spread out like a human sacrifice at the altar. His whole body is a gorgeous work of art. Not only because of the tattoos adorning his skin that is beautifully flushed from his face down to his chest.

His pinched nipples are bright pink from the clamps biting harshly into the sensitive buds.

The picture is perfected by the sight of Eddie’s hard cock straining against his stomach, so desperate to be touched.

Not yet, though. Eddie is Steve’s to play with for a little while longer, is his to be used. And he will drag this out for as long as he can, won’t give Eddie the satisfaction of relief until he is satisfied with his own work.

Steve reaches over to the sideboard, grabs the Wartenberg wheel that’s been waiting there patiently to come into action.

Eddie is a sucker for sensation play. He is so sensitive, reacts so wonderfully to any prickling, stinging, thudding feeling afflicted on his body. Whether it’s with the light, tickling touch of a feather or the quick, sharp burn of hot wax drizzling over his body; he’s so easy to please.

Steve starts on his left, presses the pinwheel against his skin, and lets it roll from his shackled ankle up over his calf. Eddie squirms and whines furiously when the prickling sensation reaches the back of his knee and not for the first time, Steve is glad not to be on the receiving end of things. Eddie’s trembling and twisting gets worse, the further Steve rolls the wheel up the inside of his thigh, playing with the degree of pressure he uses to prick Eddie’s sensitive skin.

He repeats the procedure on Eddie’s right, watches his skin break out in goose bumps while his cock twitches hard at the overwhelming sensation that’s crossing the line between slight discomfort and actual pain - just what Eddie wants.

Eddie gives up on trying to get away, finally accepting that he’s going nowhere. He’s entirely at Steve’s mercy, who keeps going, ruthlessly dragging the pinwheel across the underside of his arms and down his sides, spurred on by Eddie’s pathetic moans.

“Please, Sir! ‘S too much!” He begs as if that could convince Steve to end his teasing torture.

Eddie knows what to do if he wants him to stop. And Steve knows what Eddie can take.

He always gets so whiny when Steve treats him right. He’s a dream to play with. So easily breakable, so willing to give up control and let Steve take him apart in whichever way he pleases.

So beautiful when he slowly loses his mind, pushed closer and closer to the edge until he’s free falling.

The only problem is that Steve has a hard time not to lose himself.

#sub eddie week #eddie munson #sub eddie munson #steve harrington #pro dom steve harrington #steddie fic #ao3

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

Text

Passenger Princess

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating SMUT

I sat with a wide smile, on the cream bench seat of the little blue beetle. Benny's beetle to be precise. We had loaded our bags and stuffed the poor beetle almost to bursting point and left our little Brooklyn basement to head on the road to Bakersfield California. Benny had a tournament there for a few days and Benny had an 'aversion' to flying, he'll do it but only if he has to. Besides, we both thought it would be a lovely chance to spend time together on a nice road trip.

We'd been on the road a good while now and we had passed nothing interesting for ages, our fries gone, and snacks depleted. But I know Benny wouldn't stop for a good while longer. Leaving me to sip my huge seven-eleven cola.

The radio on low every so often it would fizzle out where we lost the station so I'd tune it till we found another one, the heating on as it was a rather chilly day, but it too would bounce around given the many places we would pass on this trip.

Benny sat driving, of course, hands on the wheel lazily his hat on the backseat, his jacket still on but he was shuffling and getting uncomfortable in it. Every so often I'd hear his ring clack against the wheel.

“Benny?”

“Ummm?” He didn't move his eyes from the road,

“I'm bored” I pouted laying my head on his shoulder,

He chuckled a moment, “Listen to the radio,”

“Radios boring,”

“Read the map,”

“Maps boring,”

“Read the billboards,”

“Billboards are boring,”

“They're interesting, see fireworks in five miles,”

“Can we get fireworks?”

“No princess,”

“Then why is it interesting!” I complained,

“Because… you can see the shop in five miles. So you can get excited now.”

“Whoopie! Firework store I can't go in” I sighed, “Why can't I have fireworks?”

“You honestly think I'm gonna trust you with fireworks? Explosives! I don't trust you with butter knives”

“One time I stabbed myself!”

“Yes, and I don't trust you,”

“Then what am I supposed to do all these hours?”

“Just relax and be a cute little passenger princess," He said turning to wrap an arm around me and kiss my head.

"but I'm bored Benny,"

"You wanna play chess?" He asked with excitement in his voice,

"No. We played chess four times already."

"Well, I'm sure you can find something to do." He chuckled,

I sighed and tried to relax, I had a nap, I read some billboards but still I was so bored!

"Benny?"

"Ummm?"

"I'm bored."

"I know Princess,"

"How much longer?"

"Sixteen hours?"

"How long till we get food?"

"Another couple of hours we only got McDonald's two hours ago."

"But I'm hungry,"

"you're not hungry you're bored. You're just trying to find something to do and your response to that is to shove stuff in your mouth,"

"You're mean to me."

"Love you too princess." He chuckled,

I sighed and tried to find something to do, and I saw a billboard advertising my favourite fast food place, I looked at the distance on the billboard, and I glanced at the speedometer for a moment doing maths in my mind, but how could I get him to pull over? and I smirked a little looking at Benny, with an evil plan. I would have to be smart, efficient, and time it out perfectly... so I flashed him my most innocent smile,

"Yes?" He asked noticing me looking at him,

"I found something to do,"

"Good," He nods,

I smiled and moved closer, cuddling his arm.

"Awww Hello," He smiled kissing my head, "So long as you're happy,"

I giggled a little waiting till he didn't suspect and moving to rest my hand gently on his thigh, He glanced at me giving me a questionable look but returned his focus to the road, I made sure to be gentle and slow so he wouldn't suspect but ever so slowly moving my hand up his thigh feeling the aged denim of his black jeans, running my fingers across the small divots in the denim slightly discoloured from the fact they always sat in them, until I reached the black leather of his belt.

"Yes?" He glared,

I ignored him, walking my fingers along his belt until I reached the silver buckle giving it a gentle adjust with my fingers

"Yes?" He glared again slightly louder,

"Hi Benny," I cooed as my hand fully grabbed between his legs my thumb on his fly as I squeezed him,

"AHH-" He jumped momentarily swerving the car, "Do. Not. Touch. while I'm driving." He said moving my hand to his thigh again,

"But I'm bored."

"You can find many other things to do other then grabbing my fucking cock!" he complained,

"Awww why? don't you want me too?" I giggled stroking my fingers playfully down his fly as I gave his neck little kisses feeling him slowly getting harder below his jeans,

"Princess..." He glared clearly trying to be angry with me but also uncontrollably enjoying my kisses,

"Come on, it would entertain me?" I giggled gently palming his half-hard erection through his jeans,

"Fine,"

"yay!" I giggled slowly undoing his belt, and his fly, to reveal his black boxers, His grip already began to tighten on the wheel his eyes often glancing at me, "Focus on the road," I told him as I slipped my hand under his boxers and took him in my hand "Aww hi Benny,"

"Hi Princess," He rolled his eyes a little but couldn't help his smirk giving him away, I took a gentle grip of him and rubbed my thumb across his shaft feeling him harden into my hand, Once he was fully hard I gently began to jerk my hand gripping his hilt and moving my hand back and forth slowly getting faster, "Uhhh Princess-" He groaned his fingers wrapping around the wheel tightly slightly biting his bottom lip, "Ummm Princess..."

"Focus on the road," I remind him as I moved to pull his cock completely out his pants leaving him to gasp for a few seconds feeling the cold air across him before I adjusted myself and pressed little kisses to his shaft,

"uhhhh princess!" He moaned, "Really?"

"Mhm" I nodded, moving to take just the tip into my mouth sucking and swirling my tongue around him

"Ummmm! Fuck-" He groans, holding the wheel in a vice-like grip trying not to close his eyes or throw his head back, I giggled and moved to take all of him into my mouth sucking gently and moving my head up and down at the pace I knew he couldn't resist "Ohh holy- Princess! You're really gonna do this to me?" He gasped, "You know you keep going I won't be able to say no?" He asked, I just continued slowly getting faster and sucking a little harder "Ughhhh! you evil little princess!" He groans now gnawing on his lip and squeezing his eyes shut at times rolling his head against his headrest, I knew he was close as his hand left the wheel to sit on my head twisting into my hair to keep me at his desired pace, even his hips couldn't resist me bucking up to slightly to cause me to deep throat him, "Ughhh uuuhhh! Princess please I'll-" He muttered feeling just how close he was, and right on time he pulled off the road and parked up turning the engine off and twisting both his hands in my hair throwing his head against his headrest, his mouth hung open, his eyes squeezed shut as his grip on my hair forced me a little bit faster which got him to his edge. His hips bucked in jagged unplanned movements as he buried his jizz in my mouth, I swallowed and licked him clean giving him a few gentle kisses as he gasped and moaned in his post-orgasmic state "Fuck- You did find something to entertain you didn't you princess."

"I did," I smiled sitting up and wiping my mouth before kissing his cheek, "Love you,"

"Love you too." He smiled fixing himself up,

"Oohh would you look at that?" I giggled as we had pulled over into the exact fast-food restaurant I wanted,

the moment he realized he glared at me, "You... are an evil, conniving, smart ass when you wanna be."

"I know,"

"you know... You could be a genius if you applied yourself."

"I am a genius," I giggled climbing out of the car with my bag,

"Yeah, an evil genius." He said climbing out too,

"still a genius, and you still love me?" I giggled hugging his arm,

"Of course I do princess." He smiled kissing my head,

#benny smut #benny fanfic #benny #benny watts #tqg benny watts #benny watts smut #benny watts imagine #bennywattssmut #thequeensgambit #tbs #thomas brodie sangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagines #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster

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808airsoftbros · 2 months

Text

The Half Engine (Blackpink)

Author: Just a teaser hint for my upcoming Halloween oneshot. If you want to see more of my stories check out my Masterlist

The Original Half Engine story was by: [thebogieboy] (His Youtube) Genre: Crossover/Horror

Author's POV

It was a ordinary day on the island of Sodor, the engines had been working hard all day on their branch lines delivering passengers and goods across the island.

They were all looking forward to a goodnights long rest at the sheds, everyone that was except for James.

"How long are we going to be kept waiting? At this rate, will be home by nightfall," James sighed as he was waiting at the station.

"Have no fear, James, I'm confident will be back home in no time!" His driver assured but that didn't help ease his mind one bit as he had already seen the sun about to set down soon.

But it didn't help the fact that the weather forecast that there will fog this evening meaning their visibility is limited and travelling down the tracks will be dangerous.

Thankfully for James, he didn't have to wait much longer as his last passengers boarded the coaches.

James blew his whistle as he puffed out of the station to the next, the trip lasted about a couple hours and by the time he shunted the coaches into the yard, it was dark and foggy as predicted.

Despite Jame's headlamp shining brightly, he could hardly see a thing ahead of him so he had to travel down the line cautiously to prevent him from hitting anything.

Despite the Driver and Fireman being experienced navigators, they were eventually lost in the fog, and they didn't know they travelled down into a abandoned siding on the line.

"Stupid fog... I can't see a thing..." James muttered as he puffed down the line.

"Yeah, can't see anything in the distance either, no signs, nothing I'm afraid..." His driver replied and sighed.

"In that case, why don't we just get rid of these unused..." James paused as he saw something that caused his boiler and firebox to freeze.

James applied the brakes slowly putting him into a halt, the fireman and driver were confused and asked what he had stopped for.

However, James couldn't mutter a word out of his mouth as he shook nervously and the Driver got out of the cab to see what was wrong and they gasped as they caught the sight of a scrap engine.

"W-what the bloody hell?! What kind of sick person would scrap an engine like that?!" The driver exclaimed as they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

It was indeed a sorrowful sight to see the empty soul of an engine lying on the side but this was different... The engine was cut perfectly in half without error.

Half of the boiler, cab, funnel, and whistle can be seen, and they wonder how this would be possible as no skilled scrapper is capable of such a thing.

"I don't wanna know! Get me out of here! Get me out of here!" James demanded as he was too terrified to linger any longer.

The crew were quick to agree, they boarded into his cab and James reversed out of the abandon line as fast as his pistons and wheels can take him.

Back at the sheds, the engines were finally able to rest after a long day of work, Sir Topham Hatt arrived to deliver some news to the engine but they had to wait as James was absent.

Finally, James arrived back at Tidmouth sheds and the others were a bit worried and curious as to where James has been all this time as it was late in the night.

"Ah, James, so glad you can join us," Sir Topham Hatt greeted but James didn't reply as he was still too shaken from what he had seen earlier.

"Anyway, onto the point, I've come here to inform you all that we will be visited by celebrities from Korea, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, we do not want to give a bad impression, do we? Gordon, I'd like you to transport them from Vicarstown to Tidmouth Station, there we will begin the tour," He explained to the engines and they were quite intrigued and excited as they never had celebrities coming from across the world.

After that, Sir Topham Hatt got into his personal car and drove away from the sheds.

The engines chatted a bit about tomorrow until they eventually fell asleep except for James who could hardly sleep as he had a dreadful feeling that something or someone was watching them from the distance.

The night went on without any incident, James hardly got any sleep but still carried on with his duties as Gordon coupled to the express coaches and made his way to Vicarstown to pick up the guests along with Sir Topham Hatt.

When they arrived, Gordon saw a group of four young women, they stared at him with such curiosity and fascination that it almost made Gordon nervous.

"Ah, good morning, girls, I hope you all had a safe and pleasant trip! It's such a pleasure to have you all come to my railway, my name is Sir Topham Hatt II, and I'm the second generation running this fine railway. This is one of my prestige and trustworthy engines, Gordon, he will be taking you all to Tidmouth station, and we will begin our tour from there!" Sir Topham Hatt greeted to the four girls and they all smiled.

"Thank you for having us, sir, my name is Jisoo, I'm the eldest, and this man here is my manager," Jisoo introduced herself.

"I'm Jennie, I'm the second oldest, surely, you've once watched our music videos?" Jennie introduced herself with a hint of pride.

"My name is, Chaeyoung but everyone calls me Rosé, it's a pleasure to meet you~," Rosé introduced herself with such elegance in her voice.

"Hello, I'm Lisa, the Maknae of the group! This railway is such a nice place!" Lisa introduced herself as she admired the scenery and countryside.

After the introductions, the girls and the Controller boarded onto the express coach and Gordon puffed out of Vicarstown and began the journey to Tidmouth station.

Y/N's POV

As I finished doing my morning routine, I put on my work uniform, put on my coat, I put on my shoes, and walked out of the dormitory to Tidmouth sheds.

It was early in the morning at five am, I yawned a bit as I greeted Thomas as I was his driver.

"Good morning, Y/N, I heard we're getting visitors all the way from Korea!" Thomas greeted and I nodded.

"Yeah, I heard about it, they're a Kpop group called Blackpink, I doubt you heard of them... Ya know, since you're an engine," I replied.

"Oh, you'd be right, who is Blackpink and what is Kpop?" Thomas asked as he was slowly generating steam in his boiler.

"Kpop is a music genre, it's quite popular nowadays, can't go one day without hearing one of their songs, and they are talented singers and dancers, I watch them some time," I answered as I was shoveling coal in his firebox getting ready to start the day.

Then we heard a loud whistle and I recognized it to be Gordon as he rolled onto the rolling platform and joined the rest of us in the sheds.

I was wondering what was going on as Gordon should be heading out to take the express coaches by now but I was shocked to see Blackpink themselves.

They were walking with my boss Sir Topham Hatt, and they all stared at the engines with wonder and fascination.

"Good morning, everyone! I'd like to introduce you all to Blackpink, and they have come here for a tour around the island as I announced last night! To start things off, I'd like you all to introduce yourselves!" He instructed.

Henry, Emily, Thomas, Percy, and Edward all introduced themselves to the girls and letting out loud whistles as they generated enough steam in their boilers.

All except for James who still looked uneasy but he snapped out of his trance and introduced himself giving a fake smile trying to hide something.

"Wah, it's such a pleasure to meet you all! I heard so much about this place and it's amazing to be here in person!" Lisa replied as she walked up to the engines.

"Now, Thomas, Y/N, and Elliot, I'd like you to give them the tour around Sodor. Toby will be taking over your branch line for the day, that will be all!" The boss ordered us and we nodded.

"Yes, sir!' Thomas acknowledged and the controller got into his car and drove away leaving us alone.

I showed the girls inside of Thomas's cab, I let them blew the whistle a few times, but while I showed them around, I noticed James looked uneasy and so does the others.

"James, is everything okay?" Edward asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh, it's nothing..." James tried to play it off but it wasn't going to deter Edward one bit.

"Well, if I don't know any better but is quite rare... Poor little James has seen a ghost," Gordon teased.

Henry and Gordon laughed but the others remained silent including Y/N and the Blackpink members.

"I-I did see something..." James softly spoke up and the two stopped laughing.

"And what is that?" Henry asked in an amusing tone.

"I saw a scrap engine..." He answered and their smiles dropped to a confused to look.

"A scrap engine? That's it? I understand it's rather distressing to see those poor souls but we've all seen them plenty of times yet you never once looked this disturbed," Gordon pointed out but James sighed.

"T-this one was different, the engine was cut in half without a fault... Never seen anything like that before," James mentioned and the others were deeply disturbed.

Myself, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé, we're also disturbed about this, except for Jennie was very skeptical about the whole thing and wondered if they were just hallucinating the whole thing.

"James, you must've seen a victim of... 'The Half Engine'..." Thomas replied to him with a nervous look on his face.

"Thomas! This is no time for teasing!" James angrily growled.

"I'm not teasing you! I know exactly what happened!" He assured and Edward insisted on telling us.

Looking at Jennie's skeptical expression, I thought she wouldn't bother listening but she stayed and paid attention to Thomas anyway.

"A long time ago, when Sir Topham Hatt I was running the railway, it was the time when the North Western Railway was founded, many engines had been brought here to help including myself and others. However... there was one engine that was different," Thomas paused as he recalled the tale.

"Something horrible went wrong with her construction, she only had half a face, and the other half being her smokebox door, we could hardly understand what she was trying to say, maintenance on her was a nightmare to watch or listen to, and through all of this... She was in immense excruciating pain, every night we heard her crying and pleading for the pain to go away, it was so horrid that many of us could hardly stomach it," Thomas explains the whole story and the girls were in deep shock about this and again deeply disturbed.

Lisa and Rosé looked at each other with fear written all over their faces and Jisoo didn't say a word but Jennie was skeptical as ever.

"But the nastiest of us and even some of the crews saw it as nothing but a joke, this would all boil up inside of her and one day, her behavior changed for the worst... She became more violent, snapping at everyone she came across, even those who pitied her, and to make things worse, at night, she traveled down the sheds and down a heavily forested line, and when she returned, she swore that we would all perish on this railway, in her gargled barely identical speech, and we began to believe she was possessed and deranged in all her suffering, seeking any ways to get rid of her deformity,"

"Eventually, the Director of the Railway had enough, and he ordered another engine to take her down the smelter yard to be cut up for scrap, at the same time, myself and another engine were heading home from work, but as we made our way down the line, we saw smoke and multiple sounds of fire engines, we rushed to see what happened, and there was a sight I'll never forgot..." Thomas again paused.

"We never saw her again after that day... But rumors spread from workmen about noises on foggy nights, they all told us the same thing, it sounded like someone screaming in pain, and now it seems like her spirit still roams around the railway to this day..." Thomas finished his tale.

Again, the others were silent as the grave, deeply disturbed and terrified of this, the girls were shivering as they looked down the line wondering if perhaps the Half Engine was watching them.

"Pft. What a load of rubbish! Come on guys, you can't be seriously believing this is all real?! It's fake! Just like every other folklore tale! James, what you say may have been a hallucination!" Jennie exclaimed but the others didn't seem to agree with her.

"Jennie, I'm being serious here! It's all real and I was there!" Thomas warned her but she scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... Almost as real as any other scary ghost engine story!" Jennie sarcastically replied and Thomas sighed in defeat.

But little did Jennie know was that something was lurking in the shadows of the yard, watching the others before disappearing in the wind.

I swore I caught a glimpse of an engine down near the shunting yards but it vanished before I got a good look but I have a bad feeling about the whole situation especially for Jennie's safety.

We continued on the tour as scheduled, the camera crew and the girls were vlogging around the island as Thomas, Eliiot and I, were travelling down the main lines.

When it was getting dark, we head down back to the main line and concluded the day as we got good footage for their Youtube channel, and we arrived back to Tidmouth sheds.

After I finished putting Thomas into his designated shed, I guided the girls to the dormitory where they'll be sleeping for the rest of their stay.

"For a railway dormitory, it sure is nice..." Jisoo complimented.

"Yeah, not bad, right? Provided a place to stay and get paid, can't really beat that," I replied and chuckled.

"By the way, Y/N, is the Half Engine, real?" Rosé nervously asked and I sighed.

"If I'm being honest... That is up to you to believe what is real and what is not," I spoke to her with a solemn tone and she gulped.

Not wanting to intrude any further, I bid them goodnight and I went back into my own dorm to get some rest for the night.

Jennie's POV

As we settled into our dorm, the girls were getting ready for bed and go to sleep but I wasn't tired yet as I wanted to find out myself if the story of the Half Engine is real or just made up to scare us.

Regardless, I don't believe in the thing but I'm willing to give it a shot, I grabbed my phone and flashlight.

I snuck out of the bedroom without waking up the girls as I quietly exited the dormitory, the night was foggy and quiet giving an uneasy ambience.

Despite all of that, I pressed on as I made my way into the heavily forested line where the Half Engine is said to reside.

I pop up my camera app on my phone beginning to record my investigation.

"Alright, Blinks, this is the investigation of the legend of the Half Engine, where it says is a ghostly engine with half a face and the other half being her smokebox door. To be honest, guys, I'm not too sure about the whole thing, so let us find out!" I started the recording as I ventured down the foggy line.

Ten minutes into my mischief yet dangerous investigation there was nothing out of the ordinary that appeared other than some owls and occasionally deer.

Eventually I was starting to grow bored and figured this whole thing was a waste of time and began pondering if I should just head back to the dormitory.

"Aish, you know what Blinks, I'm tired so this concludes-" She was cut off when she heard a loud banshee like scream causing her to freeze.

"U-uhhh... D-did you hear that...?" She nervously asked the camera and again the scream was heard but this time it was louder.

Then I heard a faint sound of puffing of a steam engine heading my way along with the banshee-like scream.

"W-whos there?! This isn't funny?! Thomas is that you?!" Jennie called out but there was no response.

But at the corner of my eye, I looked into the fog and my stomach dropped as I saw a rusted engine charging at me. But her face was skeletal and the other half being her smokebox... IT CANNOT BE!!!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I screamed in terror as the deranged engine was charging torwards me and was about to run me over.

I closed my eyes standing still then I heard someone shouting out my name as I was trembling and frozen in terror.

"Jennie?"

"Jennie!"

I opened my eyes fearing to see that ungodly engine but it was long gone and I sighed in relief when I saw Y/N with Thomas with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you okay, Jennie?" Y/N asked as he shined his lantern in his hand.

"I-I guess..." I answered as I was shaken.

"You really shouldn't have gone out this late, do you know what could be out here? Bears, wolfs, and maybe even dangerous people," Y/N scolded me and I looked down in shame.

I pulled out my phone to call my members as they are probably worried sick about me but I gasped when I saw my phone cut clean in half without error...

"N-no way... How is this possible...?" I trembled as I tried to figure out what the fuck happened to my phone.

"You should consider yourself luckty it was your phone... Instead of you," Thomas spoke and I looked up to him.

"What do you mean...? The Half Engine did this to my phone...?" I nervously asked and Y/N nodded.

"Not many people live to tell their tale... Instead, they are found with their corpses cut in half... Just like the engines. I saw her once myself and that's why I consider myself the luckiest man on the island," Y/N explained and shivers ran down my spine as I felt thankful that it took my phone instead of me.

Thomas and Y/N gave me a ride back to the sheds and he guided me back to the dormitory and I was in for a lecture from Jisoo that night but that was the least of my concerns.

Whatever I saw... Whether it be the Half Engine or not, I will never forget it and I feel like this will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I feel sorry and regret that I didn't believe Thomas and instead risked my own life to prove that the Half Engine is nothing but a made-up folklore tale.

Throughout the rest of the trip, nothing happened and I never saw the Half Engine again, but the thought of it lingered in my mind, and sometimes... At night, when I sleep... I feel being watched by something or someone.

#kpop #kpop idol #kpop gg #bxg #x male reader #blackpink #blackpink rose #blackpink jisoo #blackpink lisa #blackpink jennie #kim jisoo #jisoo kim #jennierubyjane #kim jennie #rose #park chaeyoung #lalisa manoban #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine

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drivinmeinsane · 9 months

Text

I Do Nothing but Think of You

※ DRIVER (SOLO) ※

{ masterlist} ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: He can't eat. He can't sleep. He's obsessed and restless. What else is there to do but go for a drive?

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Glove kink, Mentions of stalking, Semi-public masturbation, Troubling behaviors, Unhealthy obsession, Not necessarily a reader insert

※ Word count: 2,200

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's note: n/a

The florescent lights of the diner do nothing to ease Driver's agitation. Neither does the partially eaten slice of pie he is pushing around on his plate. Something is rustling around uncomfortably underneath his skin and he can't seem to shake it. He sits on the stool at the counter for another moment before fishing a couple of bills out of his wallet and tossing them on the counter. He stands. He is done here. Crappy pie and loudly humming lights aren't going to cure his bout of restlessness.

He shoves open the door harder than he should. The bells jangle loudly and slam into the glass as he exits. He draws his gloves out of his back pocket and pulls them on. The leather creaks faintly in protest while he works his hands into the confines of the material. The gloves have long since molded to the shape of his hands, but they fit so snugly that he has to gently coax his fingers inside. He sighs softly as he clicks the snaps closed, one and then the other. The metal feels cold against the back of his wrists.

He walks for a moment in the cool air, his hands tucked into the pockets of his bomber jacket. The city around him is still awake despite the late hour. He supposes that it's one thing they have in common. Neither of them ever seems to sleep. He cuts through throngs of people on the sidewalk. Their proximity feels like static. They instinctively clear out of his way. A shark among a school of fish.

Finally, he is at his Chevy. He had left it parked streetside. Secluded enough for the illusion of privacy but close enough to be easily within brisk walking distance. He drags his keys from his front pocket, something about the sensation sets his teeth on edge. He unlocks the vehicle and opens the door. He settles himself into his seat with a familiarity that should be comforting but it isn't. With the door closed and the ignition humming, he attempts to go limp and release some of the building tension. No luck. Apparently, he is doomed to spend the night sleepless and tense. His girl is at work, he won't be able to see her tonight. He turns the radio on. He wants to feel close to some part of her and so he finds a channel he's heard her listen to frequently. He keeps the volume low.

Squinting into the hazy lights of the night, he pulls away from the curb. With no job lined up to worry about, his girl to see, or goal in mind, he just... drives.

Lights pass, scenery blends together into a neon lit dream, and yet, Driver is still unsatisfied. He's burning up with an itch he can't seem to scratch with any of his usual methods. He watches his hands clench on the Malibu's steering wheel. The tendons in the back of his hands stand out in sharp relief, framed by smooth curves of leather. He relaxes his hands. Stretches out his fingers, watches how his exposed skin changes from a dusty red to a pale green when the light changes.

He accelerates and angles the car onto a winding side street. The incline is steep and poorly lit. He has to designate some sincere attention to keeping the car on the narrowing road. Finally, he summits. He coasts into a parking spot and puts on his parking brake. He leaves the car running, headlights off. Music still barely audible.

He is the only one in this dirt parking lot overlooking the blazing lights of LA. The valley below is awash in a golden glow. He's sure his girl would like the view. He shifts in his seat and his breath unexpectedly catches. He starts to feel the strain and tension in his body pool and turn into liquid heat.

Oh. He thinks to himself.

The uneasy sensation under his skin shifts and changes. It becomes impossible to ignore arousal, despite his best attempts to do so. He drags a gloved hand off the steering wheel and presses it into his upper thigh. He grips the denim and tilts his head back, pressing it into the headrest. He silently wills the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans to go away. It doesn't.

He pushes a harsh breath out of his lungs. The inhale is even more ragged. He feels his dick twitch and he loses the battle. He grinds his palm against his crotch, bucking up against the sensation. His back arches away from the backrest. The leather of his gloves catches clumsily against the fabric. He fumbles blindly for the seat release and reclines. It gives him more room to spread his legs wide, accommodating his wandering touch. He pauses for a moment, trembling and twitching against the weight of his own hand. With an abrupt, jerky motion, he sits up to wrestle himself out of his jacket and toss it into the back seat where it proceeds to slide off the smooth leather and onto the floorboard.

He sits hunched over in his seat, forehead against the steering wheel. His hands, the left fisting the fabric of his jeans and the right cupping himself, go still while he focuses on breathing. Unexpectedly, the glimpse he had gotten of his neighbor, of his girl, the other night flashes into his mind. His body stiffens and he feels himself spasm in interest.

He knows it's wrong, even as he works his zipper down. It's not enough to stop him though. He closes his eyes, leans back, and lets himself fantasize. He feels his dick spring free to lay leaking and rigid against his stomach. He's so worked up that he can feel his precum start to soak into his thin shirt and run down his shaft. He keeps his hands firmly on either thigh for the moment and simply focuses on his fantasy. He imagines his neighbor seated next to him. He thinks of her turning to him expectantly, lips parted, glossy, willing, ready. He swallows hard as he pictures her putting her hands on his thighs, right where his currently are. The only sounds in the Malibu are his heaving breaths and the faint music playing on the stereo. He knows he's running down his gas gauge by idling for so long but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters but the thoughts of his girl.

He involuntarily jerks at the idea of her easing herself further into his space. He can almost feel the warmth of her breath against his lips. A non-imagined sensation is the precum that comes flooding at the thought. He finally wraps his hand around himself. The leather is immediately soaked through. He strokes himself. His grip is too harsh, too tight, not enough.

He wonders if she would let him kiss her while he jerks himself off. Would she look at him with shocked distain or would she coax his legs apart? Drape them over her lap and guide his hand to his own dick, encouraging him to touch it just for her as they press together intimately in the small space? He can picture the way his gloved hands would look. One on her jaw to draw her in for a kiss and the other wrapped around his flushed, weeping cock. She would pluck the toothpick from his mouth. She would kiss him hungrily, deeply. Painfully slow and all the while murmuring soft praise against his lips as he works himself over for her.

He pants silently, his mouth hanging open. There's a low whine building in his throat that he doesn't let escape. He imagines the slow, lingering presses of his neighbor's mouth against his. He feels his stomach tighten at the imagined sensation. His hand moves slower, lingeringly. He's taking his time now. He tightens his hand around his throbbing dick and strokes it tenderly in the way he imagines she would kiss him.

Would her mouth taste sweet? Bitter? Would he find a hint of coffee? Of the candy she favored so much? He had left a packet of it leaning against her front door one night after he had heard her complaining on the phone about running out. If she hadn't wanted him to know, she wouldn't have left her window ajar. He watches out for her. She is rarely without his presence, he makes sure of that. He can't not care for his girl. He knows she doesn't realize how much they've shared together. After all, he was the one keeping watch for perverts outside her window the other night as she teasingly stripped off her work clothes in preparation for her shower. He wishes he hadn't been standing in the parking lot at the time. He would have much rather been in her apartment with her, blinds tightly closed against the peeping toms he was deterring with his watchful presence. If only she had noticed him through her window and beckoned him to join her in the shower.

His hand stutters when he reminds himself of the sight of her. The leather catches uncomfortably against his skin. He thinks about the smooth expanse of her back, the way her breasts had slipped out of her bra when she had undone the clasps. He could see her now through half closed eyes, shirtless and lit by a golden glow. An angel hovering over him. He imagines her taking his free hand from her face and trailing it down her soft skin to her breast. Her delicate skin would slide like silk against his encased fingers. He would gently knead the yielding tissue, feel her nipple harden underneath his touch. The leather would be warm from their shared body heat. She should tell him how good he was, how he was her hero. She would lick her way into his mouth and-

The pressure building up inside him finally reaches its crescendo and it's all he can do to desperately grab at the steering wheel with his left hand as his other finishes the job. He braces his feet against the floorboard and cums hard. He makes the only sound he's allowed himself to make all night. It's a low, throaty growl of a moan. More animal than man. The toothpick in his mouth nearly snaps with how hard he bites down. He shakes and thrashes in his seat. His vision goes white. He breaks apart. He's emptying himself dry, nearly sobbing at the sensation.

He makes an absolute mess of himself and his vehicle. Semen runs down over the back of his hand. The milky fluid looks like rich trails of gold in the city lights. It gleams against the sodden leather. He sags in his seat, eyes staring blankly out of the windshield. The ringing in his ears gradually fades away and he becomes present in his body again. His girl always has the best way to make him cum, even if she doesn't know it.

He grabs a shirt from his passenger seat. It has lost most of its scent from its time in his '73. Much to his relief, however, he can still smell a faint trace of perfume and sweat. It had been a risky item to take, but it is one that he needed. He wipes off his face first, letting the scent of his girl wash over him before he cleans off his windshield and steering wheel. If only she had been here, he wouldn't have spent himself so recklessly. She would have been able to tell him exactly what to do. As it is, though, he drags the shirt down his chest to mop up the cum quickly soaking through his own shirt and towels off his softening dick. He winces at the overstimulation.

He tucks himself back into his jeans. He catches his breath before he pulls off his gloves and bundles them inside her shirt. He needs to do laundry anyway. He has been putting it off until his neighbor's bi-weekly visit to the machines. Always on a Wednesday afternoon. The chance to be in the same room as his girl was worth the inconvenience. He would also be able to return her shirt and borrow a fresher one to keep close for when he couldn't see her. Maybe she would be able to sense a trace of him in the fabric upon its return. His token of showing her exactly what she did to him.

His heart settles down and he finally starts to feel bone deep exhaustion set in. He is thoroughly spent. He turns his headlights back on and backs out of his parking spot. The gears shift smoothly under his expert hand. He's going to go back to his apartment and get a few hours of sleep just to wake up in time to see his girl's face as she comes home from work. If he's lucky, maybe she'll give him a tired smile when he holds the door for her as he exits the building. He mustn't be too greedy. After all, she seems to forget that she's his.

#drive 2011 #driver #drive fanfic #drive #ryan gosling #drive movie #Nobody even look at me. This the most gratuitous crap I've ever written. jfc #fanfiction #my work #my posts

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