#stupid edit I spent two hours on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaebeomsbitch · 7 months

Text

The Touch of a Prince (E.M.)

Summary: You really really like your boyfriend's hands.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, pure smut, explicit, lots of petnames, p in v, banana cream pies. Not edited like always

GIF credit: @foggystreetlights

A/N: just discovered the person who cosplays eddie and makes a whole bunch of eddie gifsets....

It was Eddie’s day off from the tattoo shop. He’d spent the day cleaning the house and when he was finally done he decided to work out an idea for a song. You’d come home about three hours into him practicing, a pencil in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration but the one thing you could not get your eyes off of was his hands. The way the flexed with every movement, the way his veins popped when he’d move his hand up.

“You almost done?” You murmur, eyes scaling your boyfriend.

“Hmm?” He hums distracted but his eyes turn towards yours catching the tail end of your ogling. His lip immediately curving upward in a smirk.

“Why? Is my princess in need of her valiant knight’s services?” He says dramatically.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly nodding your head slowly as you scoot back on the couch.

“Well if duty calls” he says, placing his guitar back on its stand. His heavy footsteps frantic as he all but practically runs towards you. He jumps on the couch with a thud, the springs creaking in protest.

“You’re gonna fucking break it” you laugh. The two of you bought this shitty couch after moving in together. Before Eddie had become popular in the local tattoo scene. You could afford a better one but why waste something that is practically new?

“I was told an urgent matter needed my services” he says pressing kisses to your neck. You can’t help but laugh as you’re pinned under his body.

“Okay well not that!” You say pushing his face away.

“Mhm, okay then what does my precious princess in need of?” He says still using that stupid accent.

Your nose brushes his softly, eyes lashes fluttering against each other. “Do you trust me?” You whisper. A stupid smile adorns his face.

“Course I trust you. Trust that you won’t bite my dick off when it’s in your mouth. Did you know the force in a human jaw could do that? Like just cleanly” he rambles, getting distracted like he always does. He makes a chomping motion.

“Take it right off” he says, getting off of you dragging you with him until you’re sitting with your legs across his lap.

“God you’re so…” you say, making a face at him with face annoyance but there’s a little smile on your face.

“Hot?” He says with a smirk.

“No-“ you try to say but he interrupts.

“Charming? Handsome? God, keep going” he continues.

“Annoying” you say, interrupting him before he keeps going.

“Well luckily most hot people are annoying” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re insufferable too,” you scrunch your nose at him with a disgusted face. He decides to attack, his fingers pressing at your sides.

“No! No-“ you try to seat his hands away but you’re laughing uncontrollably as he tickles you.

“You don’t call me annoying or insufferable when I’ve got my cock in you” he laughs.

“Please- stop!” You heave for breath seeking reprieve. He lets go of you with a chuckle, going back to his position on the couch as you pant for breath, your stomach aching from forced laughter.

“God, I was trying to ask you a question!” You whine as you sit up. Your hair all fucked up from thrashing around, face flushed. You lean your shoulder on the couch cushion as you look at Eddie.

“My name is actually Eddie,” he says with a smug smile.

“That’s it! I’ve had it” you grumble a twinge of annoyance creeping into you as you cover his mouth and straddle his lap.

“Oohh kinky,” he muffles into your palm.

“Eddie seriously, I’m gonna lose my shit” you warn. He immediately holds his hands up in surrender. You let go of his mouth with a pointed glare, his hands finding their way to your ass.

“Yes, Princess?” He says with a smile on his lips.

“No, now I don’t want to. You’re being annoying” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay fine- fine I’m sorry” he says cupping your face and peppering your cheeks with kisses until you relax against him.

“What did you need?” He says softly, pushing your hair back out of your face.

“I wanted to do something but you’re gonna find it weird” you mumble.

“Weird? Like the time I let you hold my dick when I peed?” He says, one of his eyebrows quirked, clear amusement in his tone.

“Eddie!” You whine.

“Okay, okay” he laughs.

“Let me see your hand” you demand.

“You gonna read my palm or something?” he asks putting his right hand in front of you.

“Something like that” you say, you fold his fingers in and unfold them trying to build the courage to do it. To do what you’d been thinking about doing amongst the other dirty thoughts in your mind.

“You just wanted to play with my hands?” He laughs softly. You roll your eyes finally just sticking his pointer finger into your mouth. You lick at it, swirling your tongue around it.

“What are you doing?” He asks, amusement lost from his voice. Instead he sounds out of breath, his free hand squeezes your ass, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around his digit.

Groaning, Eddie leans back on the couch, closing his eyes as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can feel the press of his half hard cock as you sit on his lap as he massages your ass with one hand.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he mutters.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

“I’m not doing anything” you murmur laying your head on his shoulder. You spread out his fingers licking in between the spaces then take his pointer finger into your mouth sucking on it.

Panting, Eddie watches with difficulty as you lick and suck on his fingers, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

"Do you have any idea how sexy that is?" he asks hoarsely.

You look up at Eddie with your big doe eyes. Cocking your head to the side innocently as you take in his middle finger and start sucking on it. This was your payback for Eddie’s annoying behavior.

Eddie shakes his head, rolling his hips up to gain friction.

“Fuck, need to be inside you princess” he pants. You hum around his fingers, sucking on them harder at the proposition. His one hand fumbled with the button on his jeans and yet he perfectly undoes it and unzips the zipper. You look at him with a questioning gaze.

“What? I have a lot of practice” he murmurs, cheeks glowing red. He’s cute when he’s embarrassed. Nonetheless he pulls his jeans and underwear down, his cock bobbing out of the fabric. It lightly slaps against his stomach, smearing precum over his maiden tee.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth, you can’t help but whine at the loss but he doesn’t give you a second to think. He’s yanking down his boxers that you’re wearing, thumb finding your clit as you kick them off.

“S-shit” you moan pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

“You’re so fucking far” he grunts, pulling you closer by the waist. You can’t help but laugh breathlessly but then his thumb is rubbing tight circles on your bundle of nerves, your thighs trembling.

“F-fuck okay okay okay” you pant not even knowing why you’re saying okay but you’re hovering over his cock. Eddie holds it at the base aligned with you perfectly to sink into him like an animal in quicksand.

“Not until I have your fingers” you whisper, swallowing hard. You feel like you’re slowly losing any semblance of humanity, like poison drips into your blood stream. Converting you into a primal cock hungry whore.

“Always have to draw things out don’t you?” He pants while shaking his head. His thumb leaving your clit, middle finger slipping into your sopping pussy.

“Mmm f—f” you stutter, the press of his warm metal rings at your labias having you forgetting your name. You look down, the veins on his inner wrist flexing, the bracelet on his wrist slightly bouncing with the movement, his eyes staring at the way you take his finger then sliding in his ring finger. Stretching you out as you start rocking your hips against his palm. You grip his shoulders harder.

“G-guh fuck Eddie” you moan, your head dropping in defeat as he curls his fingers.

“That’s it, ride my fucking hand” he all but growls. If he’s gonna be tortured he might as well enjoy it.

“Look so fucking pretty like this, Sweetheart. Got you all dumb from just my hand. I see the way you look at ‘em. Think you’re smart, huh? Looking away from me when I look over” he chuckles, his free hand gripping your hip moving you to ride his hand harder with each hard press of his fingers.

“C-can’t help it” you moan. Heat pools at your core, the familiar burn feels like lava, your face pressed desperately into his shoulder. If it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand on your hips you don’t know if you could move.

“Aww the poor little princess can’t help it? Can’t help imagining me fucking your pussy just like this? Getting your juices all over my fucking rings?” He grunts with the effort as he feels your muscles start to twitch.

“That’s it, cum on my fucking fingers. Show me how much you fucking love ‘em” he pants in your ear.

“S-shit. Oh fuck” you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the burn deep in your core. Your clit rubbing over his palm, his fingers ramming into your g-spot over and over again, the hard press of his metal rings. It isn’t long maybe a few seconds that you cum all over his hands.

It drips down his thick fingers, smearing all over his rings, creating a small puddle in his palm. Fuck… you’d never cum this much and all because of his hands. He slides his fingers out of you carefully as you heave for air.

The heat ghosting over his neck as you relax in his hold.

He tuts, ”s’only your first own, Princess. Still gotta ride my cock like you’re riding a first prize stallion.”

“S-shit y-yeah just.. just give me a sec would ‘ya?” You gasp. He runs your back softly until you sit up on his thighs pulling back to look at his face.

“There she is” he grins, using his clean hand to brush stray pieces of hair out of your face. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for that” you murmur shyly under the intense gaze of your boyfriend. He looked like a man starved for days looking at his first meal.

“That? Oh sweetheart… you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you,” he says with a cocky grin.

“Now, I believe I was told that my Princess likes my hands. Hmm? S’that true sweetheart?” He asks almost condescendingly. You nod meekly not knowing where this is heading.

He grips your hips pulling you up. Your thighs tremble lightly as you’re back in the same position as before.

“Think you can take it baby? Have a surprise for you, if you’re a good girl” he says, rubbing his thumb softly over your hipbone.

“Yeah- Yes I can,” you nod. You shift closer, your knees pressing into the sides of his hips as you slowly sink down into him.

“Oh- fuck” you whine, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls pulse around him, already slick with your cum, coating his cock in it. He tilts your head up to look at him.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours Princess,” he murmur, his stomach straining not to fuck you hard like he wants. He knows you need him to be gentle right now. You oblige opening up your plump lips with uncertainty.

He slides his cum covered fingers into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself. His other hand finding your hip slowly pulling you towards him in a gentle roll of your hips. You moan around his fingers for a second time.

Your tongue laps up your cum gathering it on the tip as you start moving your hips on your own. Instead of bouncing you choose to swivel your hips, keeping a figure eight.

This causes Eddie’s cock to stay buried deep inside of you, the meeting point of the two rings forcing his cock to press into your g-spot. You curl your toes, gasping around his wrinkled fingers. Fuck, you’re so sensitive. Eddie could sneeze and you’d cum again. Nonetheless you flex your stomach ignoring the way your pussy flutters around him.

Like a deep primal urge in you knows, knows that you need your fill.

“Fuck, that’s it” he pants, his desperation growing. He slides his fingers out of your mouth, the skull ring staying behind, you swirl it around your tongue cleaning it and bring it forward to show him just as he grabs your hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna fucking kill me” he gasps out, his big hands forcing you to bounce on his cock.

It’s like you lose all inhibitions as you feel the slam of his cock curving into you.

“Oh- God. Fuck- fuck” you moan loudly. It gets harder and harder to stave off your orgasm as he presses his back into the couch pistoning upwards.

“S-shit you’re gonna fucking break me” you gasp. Your stomach flexes painfully, your clit rubbing into the thatch of curly hair above his cock ever time he slams you down into him. You pull at the couch cushions behind his head desperately.

“I- I can’t Eds” you cry, every fibre of your body is telling you to let go. Eddie feels the familiar tug at his balls, a shiver running up his spine.

“Look at me,” he grunts.

You try and strengthen your neck but all you can manage is to press your forehead into his.

“You’re mine, always fucking remember that” he says fiercely.

“I thought I was the princess” you laugh breathlessly.

“And I’m your fucking prince” he moan.

You whine “don’t wanna cum yet.” You press up on your knees slamming down harder onto his cock. The only thing preventing you from falling is Eddie’s hands on your hips and your grip on his shoulders

“Love your cock to much wanna stay like this forever” you moan.

Laughing, Eddie pulls you closer, his lips finding yours. His tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting your cum on your tongue.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "I'll never get tired of being inside you.”

“Fuck- come on princess, cum for me” he encourages.

“No no no no no” you whine but the heat keeps pooling and shocks travel up your spine as you get closer and closer.

Hearing your desperate pleas, Eddie knows you're on the edge. He wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you even closer as he thrusts into you with abandon.

"That's it," he praises. "Just let it happen."

“No Eddie,“ you whine but your pussy still clenching around him, your stomach tightening with effort as you try to stave off your pleasure.

“Fuuuck” you gasp your neck flexing as you grit your teeth.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it” he grunts rubbing right circles on your clit. Your velvet walls clench harder around him, his cock making you completely dumb.

You let go involuntarily, everything all too much. You cum hard trembling above him, collapsing into his chest.

“Fuck-beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he grunts.

“Cum inside me,” you pant out.

“What?” His eyebrows practically fly to his hairline.

“Cum inside me” you say more urgently, shocks running up your spine.

“Y- fuck you can’t say shit like that to me” his eyes roll back and his lips part. He cums inside you with a loud groan.

You sigh as you get comfortable on his lap. His cum and cock still buried deep inside you. You press a soft kiss to the side of his head

“My pretty boy” you whisper.

2K notes · View notes

hellishjoel · 8 months

Text

say my name

8.5k / pairing: brat tamer!joel miller x f!reader

psycho masterlist main masterlist

summary: It’s Joel’s birthday, and his brother, Tommy, is in town to celebrate. You meet the more charming Miller for the first time, and the two of you flirt up a storm. By the end of the night, Joel’s pissed and jealous. But that doesn’t stop you from moaning Tommy’s name in bed.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, brat tamer!Joel, somewhat established relationship (whatever that relationship may be ((situationship, relationship, etc.)), toxic!couple, swearing, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, slapping, degradation, praise kink, spitting, choking, blood, marking kink, creampie, pussy smacking (??), lots of dom!joel brought out by jealous!joel, overstimulation, Tommy being a flirt, angst, mentions of being cheated on, Joel being a menace, unprotected p in v (wrap your willy or whateva), half-ass editing tbh

A/N: happy birthday to Joel Miller!! I was picturing this entire prompt with pixel Joel, thanks to @macfrog - this part is based off this request sent in!

You did a lot of stupid things tonight. Wearing your shortest dress, stalking Joel to his hangout with Tommy, flirting with his brother for the majority of the night. But now, you were ready to do the stupidest thing yet. You moan into his ear, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as you feel your orgasm begin to approach. “Fuck me, Tommy.” It hits Joel like a ton of bricks. All his movements pause. He pulls away just half an inch and stares down at you. A cold, downright mean look crosses his face once you’ve popped your eyes open to take a look at him. The room suffocates you in silence. “What did you say?”

September 26th, 2023. It’s Joel’s forty-second birthday!

The thought alone riles you awake. You love birthdays. You especially love when it’s Joel’s birthday because he hates his birthday. You have no idea why, he looks more and more handsome with each year that he blows out a candle.

You think about these things curled up into his side, chin on his chest while your fingers lightly grazed over his stippled grey chest hair. It was barely past the early morning hours. You gently trace over the etched lines in his forehead and between his brows. He must scowl at you even in his sleep. You should be asleep, too, especially after having spent the late hours of September 25th celebrating the end of Joel’s forty-first year with a bang. Literally.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, clutching his comforter to your bare chest as your panties are just out of reach on the floor a few feet from the bed. You huff and flee the warmth of his bed to retrieve them in as much silence as you can muster, watching him carefully let out a puff of air through his parted lips before lightly rolling over and spooning your pillow in the process. You stifle a giggle as you grab his t-shirt he threw off in the midst of getting handsy with you last night.

“Happy last day of being forty-one, old timer.”

“Shut up and bend over.”

He always did have a way with words.

You managed to sneak downstairs without Joel catching you in his arms. Your bare feet meet the cold tile of his kitchen floor.

Joel’s home looked like you might imagine. Dark walls, not exactly black but not exactly grey or navy. He has a desk, a messy one that is littered with bills and invoices scattered with pencils that had the erasers shaved down to nothing. There was a large flat screen mounted to the wall, and a television console below it filled with old vinyl records and random CDs. He did have a few plants scattered around, and he actually took very good care of them. There were a few dishes in the sink from dinner last night. Empty beer cans on the half-wall by his back garage door. His keys and wallet were thrown haphazardly on the counter.

These are the things that make you adore staying at Joel’s place, it was so homey and cozy. These were the things that made Joel, Joel.

You throw your hair up and out of your way, finding the box of cake mix you stashed in the back of his pantry for this very special occasion. And just like that, you were a chef in Joel’s kitchen. Or was it a baker?

Despite your best efforts, the cake was just a mess. And there were no redoes with cakes. And when you were shopping, you were thinking a little too much about yourself rather than Joel, so the cake was coated in pink icing. It was a shit cake, but you hoped Joel would like it. He wasn’t a guy with a big sweet tooth, but you’d force him to have a slice since this was your labor of love.

U CAN’T PICK YOUR FATHER BUT U CAN PICK YOUR DADDY was lettered with red icing and cute pink assorted sprinkles.

The smell of freshly baked cake woke him up.

“You burnin’ somethin’?” Joel’s tired voice echoed in the kitchen.

He was wearing grey sweats and his black boxers, the band peaking out from the top of his waistband as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He looked like a big oaf fresh from sleep, shuffling past you to the oven and turning on the fan to air out the smoke and smell.

“Ha-ha. Nothing’s that burnt. It’s your birthday cake!” You cooed as you showed him what you made.

The word birthday was enough to make him roll his eyes.

“Didn’t have to make me anythin’. Just another day.” He muttered but came up behind you to take a look at the cake nonetheless. You watched with a proud smile as the left side of his mouth quirked up upon reading the design.

“Do you like it?” You asked, turning your back to the counter and letting his hips pin you there. His large, warm palm settled low on your waist. You watch as he swipes his index finger into the frosting, observing the sugary cream before his eyes set on yours. His orbs are as black as night as he offers you a taste.

You maintain his eye contact as you lean in and wrap your mouth around his finger, hollowing your cheeks as you suckle it off and lap your tongue around the tip before letting him go with a soft smirk.

“Like it ‘cause you made it. That’s all.” Joel’s chest hums as he speaks, his head ducking down to catch your lips in a delicate kiss. The delicate part doesn’t last for long. His kisses turn heavy, and his cock hardens against your thigh as he bends you backward against the counter.

Your nails catch his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to smash into the cake. You know that if he gets too into this, he’ll end up pushing it aside so radically that your creation will end up on the floor, so you quickly nudge it out of reach before continuing.

He’s hungry, his tongue lines your bottom lip, still coated in a sugary taste, before he explores the inside of your mouth dominantly. You’re whimpering in excitement as his possessive hands lift you up onto the counter, your baking instruments clattering around you and rolling, making a complete mess, but you don’t care. It’s Joel’s birthday, after all.

You gasp into his mouth as he cups your clothed pussy and gently pats his fingers against you. The sensation makes your head fall back, and your eyes flutter closed. Your lips part just a fraction, Joel takes the opportunity to slip his tongue back inside to wrestle with your own. He pats you again, and you feel your panties grow a wet spot as white heat pools your insides.

“Just how I like it, ready to be taken like a little slut in the mornin’.” His rigid voice growled, suppressing you of any strength you had left to resist collapsing across the counter.

Both of you pause, irritated facial expressions matching when Joel’s phone starts to ring.

Your heavy pants mingle in the air between you with indecision. You glare at him as he moves half an inch away, the grip on his shoulders tightening in need. Don’t pick it up, Joel.

He closes his lips and lightly squints at you in disapproval as he stands up straight and starts toward his phone. You throw your head back and groan, slipping your hand over where his fingers just ghosted over the material of your panties. You lick your lips and watch him as he takes the call. He looks over the screen at the contact, his eyes shift to you. He’s hesitating. Not because he’s left you hot and heavy on the kitchen counter, but because he’s shielding his phone from you.

So help me god, motherfucker, if I find out you’re cheating on me, I will-

Your nerves are settled when he huffs and swipes right to answer the call. “‘ey Tommy.” After a beat, Joel rolls his eyes to himself. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. Just another day.”

Your eyes blink slowly. It was his brother you had yet to meet. You hum lightly as you sink your hand past the band of your panties, soft lace grazing your knuckles while you slip your fingers between your delicate folds. You slowly pry open the one foot you have kicked up on the counter, spreading your leg wider so Joel can see you playing with yourself. He’s still not looking. You need his attention.

“Yeah, we can do somethin’, if that somethin’ means you’re payin’ for beers at the bar.” He said with a tired, but playful smirk. You’re growing so wet at the sight of him. Your fingers make a squelching noise as you slowly push two fingers inside your aching hole. This catches his attention.

His head whips to you like a prowling lion hearing a twig snap. His eyes narrow on the target of the noise before they dart up to you. You know that look.

Take your hand out of your fuckin’ panties. Don’t you fuckin’ touch yourself.

You cock your head with an attitude. “Say it with your chest.” You pipe up, so loud that the voice on the other line chirps in.

“Who was that?” You smirk at the attention Tommy’s already given you.

“Hi, Tommy!” You shout, and now Joel’s really pissed. He comes up and clamps his hand over your mouth, glaring daggers into your big doe-eyed pupils.

“Is that your girl, big brother?”

Joel’s jaw clicks tighter, his breath coming out in hot, annoyed puffs through his aquiline nose.

“You hidin’ her from me? Invite her to drinks tonight!” Tommy shoots out the invite before Joel can take it away. You slowly lick up the hand that’s holding your mouth hostage. Joel is used to this. He only adds more pressure to his hold on your mouth.

He glares at you and juts his jaw around in annoyance, considering Tommy’s offer. “Yeah.. yeah, we’ll see,” Joel murmurs while you keep tonguing his hand. He gives your face a little slap, a stupid moan escaping your lips before he grips your cheeks again once more and covers your mouth.

Don’t forget who’s in charge here, little bitch.

You hum quietly against his hand and wrap your legs firmly around his hips. He stumbles forward half a step. You can feel his hardened length protruding from his gray sweats, your cores lightly grinding against one another as you purposely whimpered against his palm.

Not long after, Joel ends the phone call with Tommy, and he begrudgingly releases his slobbery hand from your mouth and pushes back from the hold you attempted to lock him in. You huff as he leaves the kitchen, watching as he rakes his fingers up and down his beard and gently scratches at the skin. What was up with him?

“We’re going out for drinks tonight?” You pester after you both have taken a shower for far too long, the steam fogging up his mirror and making Joel’s skin a light rosy pink.

He lets out a short sarcastic chuckle. “I’m goin’ out tonight. You’re stayin’ here.”

You frown as you look Joel over, his stern facial expression matching his tone.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, I’m going out tonight. With you. This is the third time I’ve tried to meet Tommy in person and-”

“And nothin’.” He intercepts, venom dripping from his words that makes your throat become scorching hot with anger.

You have a hard time letting this go. Especially since whenever Tommy was in town, Joel magically came up with every excuse in the book to keep you from properly meeting his younger brother. Was Joel ashamed of you? He didn’t want Tommy to think that this was the type of girl Joel kept in his company. He didn’t want you to embarrass him. That’s always what it came down to.

You brushed past him, your shoulder laying a heavy hit to his arm as you fled the bathroom with haste. You enter his bedroom and find your bag carrying your clothes for the weekend. You pulled on whatever you could find as hot rage made your skin tingle.

“Where you goin’, angel?” Joel tries to half-ass console you, stopping your movements, taking the keys you had just dug out from the depth of your bag, and holding them up so tall they were out of your reach even on your tippy toes.

“Give them back, Joel.” You had a burning feeling in your chest, and Joel was fighting with fire.

He just shakes his head, his eyes looking over you with a tight jawline. “Need you to relax. Last time you got this pissed at me, you keyed half of my fuckin’ truck.” He muttered, your eyes narrowing on his as you crossed your arms.

“And I’ll key the other half if you don’t give me back my-”

“Keys?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow, wiggling the keychain with the cute dangly accessories on it and making you absurdly annoyed. You swallow a lump that’s growing in your throat. Joel sighs and cautiously brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek. You hate denying how comforting it is when his warmth courses through your body like this.

“Why won’t you let me meet your brother?” It sounds more whimpery than you intended, big soft eyes looking into Joel’s hardened ones. “I mean, I know we’re not anything serious, but we’ve been together for a while, and it’s your birthday, and I know that you hate that it’s your birthday, but I love your birthday, and I sort of love you, and I want to meet the people you care the most about.”

The room tenses as your eyes connect. Shit. That’s how you chose to tell him? That you sort of loved him? Fucking idiot.

Joel pauses before he starts slowly shaking his head, and your chin dips defeatedly. You think he’s shaking his head because he doesn’t feel the same way, he doesn’t sort of love you like you sort of love him. How could he? Your emotions for one another were a mangled mess. One night, you were fighting like cats and dogs, and both of your eyes lit up during the heat of yet another fight. Then the next night, you were begging him not to stop fucking you, to never leave you, to never betray the trust you had in him that you two had built together over time.

His thumb delicately courses up your cheekbone then gently across the arch of your chin. His hand moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in until you’re close enough he can set a delicate kiss on the crown of your head. This was what made it so confusing. Were you still fighting? Were you two making amends?

“You’re not meetin’ Tommy. Not tonight. That’s final.” His words are whispered but somehow still piercingly cold, his voice monotone and flat as he forbade you from meeting his brother. “Want you here when I come back so we can celebrate together. Just you and I.”

A frown etches into your features. More like so he could have a warm body to fuck on his birthday.

He brushes by you and starts his day like any other. He didn’t even say he sort of loved you back.

---

Did he really think you’d give up without a fight?

You managed to convince Joel that you were fine without meeting Tommy tonight, that maybe he just wanted some brotherly time together. He leaned into that shit-ass excuse like it was his last lifeline. He could care less about his familial bond, he just wanted you not to be fucking pissed off. But you were pissed off. And you looked hot pissed off.

You especially looked hot and pissed off in the skin-tight dress you wore, accompanied by the designer clutch Joel purchased for your last birthday.

You’d assume that the hardest part of your little plan was knowing which of the many bars Joel and Tommy could make their trek to. But Apple Air Tags came in a bundle of four, so you slipped one into Joel’s truck. What else were you going to do with the extra ones? Might as well put them to use.

You took a car service to the downtown Austin brewpub, Blue Owl Brewing. Let’s just say you were a bit dressed up for the establishment.

You spotted Joel sitting at a small table in the back, facing the entrance of the bar as you strolled in with a devilish smirk on your face. His large hand was nursing a tall glass of amber-colored beer, a wide and genuine smile on his lips as he jeered conversation back and forth with Tommy, whose back was to you.

You slowly made your way through the dark oak bar, Joel’s eyes connecting with yours almost immediately. He looked like he could break you in half the way his eyes narrowed on you. But Joel was smart. He didn’t let much of his anger or annoyance seep through, because the damage was already done and you were already here.

“Hi, Joel,” you innocently coo before resting your hand on his brother’s bicep. “You must be Tommy?” You ask with a smile so sweet it was probably giving Joel a toothache. He was taking a long, steady drink of his beer, the foam lightly frosting his mustache as he observes you with cautious eyes as you interacted with his brother.

Tommy looked starstruck by your beauty. His eyes don’t hold back from lightly grazing over your short dress and the exposed skin that accompanies it. “Aren’t you a beauty,” he pauses and looks to his brother with a small smirk of disbelief that his brother could bag a catch as hot as you. “You must be Joel’s girl he keeps me from.”

His comment makes you giggle, your hand cascading down his bicep to his forearm, your nails lightly adding pressure which makes Joel’s stature more domineering, even from across the table.

Tommy was younger, with medium-length dark curly hair and a mustache that mirrored Joel’s. But he doesn’t have Joel’s beard, the facial hair you’ve grown to love. His mouth carries a dangerous little smirk, and it hasn’t left since you joined their table. He was handsome, it was a family trait the two brothers shared.

“Please, sit down, beautiful.”

You hum softly at the compliment, watching as Tommy grabs a nearby barstool from a table close by and sits you down at the end of the table, between both Tommy and Joel.

“Joel, I thought you said your girl couldn’t make it out tonight?” Tommy inquires, waving down the waitress to come and get you a drink.

“Oh, did he?” You ask curiously, crossing one leg over the other and lightly leaning over the table as your breasts nearly spill out of your dress. Your eye contact with Joel was on fire. He was torn between chewing you up and spitting you out right here in the middle of the bar, or dragging you away and ripping off this too-short dress of yours.

You and Tommy were quickly buzzing with conversation. He was buying you cocktails and complimenting you every chance he could get. If you didn’t know any better, he was flirting with you openly in front of his older brother. Joel didn’t say much, a grunt here and there, a swift kick under the table to Tommy’s kneecap after he talked a little too much about the gorgeous curves of your body.

“Just can’t believe you are datin’ my brother, didn’t know he could score someone so-” As Tommy attempts to find the words, his warm palm settles on your thigh, dangerously high too. He takes an inch or two of your dress with it, and your breath snags in your throat. You can’t deny the jaded way you feel about it, feeling a hot flash course through your body as you feel your head flush with heat.

“Watch it.” Joel finally mutters coherently. Perfectly coherent. Like he needs Tommy to hear it crystal clear. No one touches you.

Tommy seems to like the rise out of Joel just as much as you do. Which is perhaps why you’re leaning into it.

“You’re too kind, Tommy, really.” You take his hand off your thigh and maneuver it back into his lap. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the one Joel has to deal with, not the other way around.” You tease, and Tommy lets out a drunk laugh.

“Trust me, gorgeous, if you were my girl, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight. That was Joel’s first mistake tonight, leavin’ you at home.”

Your eyes soften, and you glance over to Joel. He’s damn near snarling the way he’s gritting his teeth and staring daggers into Tommy. You had never seen him so possessive before.

“That’s enough out of you,” Joel remarks as he heavily sets down the empty pint glass and shuffles his barstool back, letting out a screeching scrape.

“We’re leavin’,” Joel tells you, making your jaw tick tighter. Where did he get off telling you what to do?

“I don’t think I-”

“Now.” He says more seriously. The giddy feelings you shared with Tommy were now squashed under the weight of Joel’s boot. You decide to hop off the barstool and call it a night, for both of our sakes. You accomplished your mission, met Tommy and disobeyed Joel. So let’s leave while we’re ahead.

You turn to Tommy, who is also stepping down from the barstool and putting cash on the table to cover the tab. “It was nice meetin’ you, sugar. Take care of my big brother, will ya?” He asks as he settles his hands warmly on your waist and pulls you in for a kiss on your cheek.

Heat sets your body alight. Tommy was gentle, if not even a bit calculated with his movements. Why did all of a sudden you feel like the pawn in Tommy’s game rather than the other way around?

“Goodnight, Tommy.” You whisper with a tight-lipped smile, taking Joel’s hand and letting him guide you out of the brewery.

---

The ride home in the truck was quiet. Real fuckin’ quiet. You tried to be content just listening to the low volume of the radio or the soft rumbling of his truck. You went to switch the station off of country and more to something you liked, but Joel smacked the volume to mute, making you groan. You grew so bored that you started counting the random tar lines in the road, adding to the total with each one you passed over. You stopped counting after fifty, or so.

“Joel-”

“Enough.”

He doesn’t let you speak. It makes your blood boil.

“If you just-”

“I said enough, god dammit. Don’t you think you’ve done enough tonight?” His words cut sharp, and you feel as small as you did this morning. This morning after you confessed that you sort of loved him. He’s breathing in heavy puffs, and he’s driving faster as he tries to get both of you back to the house.

“Why are you going so fucking fast?” You finally ask. You’re already in deep shit, you don’t care about him telling you to shut up. He ignores you for a moment before you probe him again. “Joel?” You ask with an annoyed tone. His eyes finally meet yours in a quick glance.

“Getting you home and out of that fucking dress.” He mutters, his large palm reaching across and cupping harshly at your upper thigh. A whiny gasp leaves your mouth as his fingers dig deliciously into your flesh. So that’s what’s got him driving so damn fast.

He pries your leg open, and he takes one look at how beautiful you look. More importantly, he’s looking at your lacey panties.

“Red. Perfect for you. Like the fuckin’ devil.”

You smirk as you grip his wrist and guide his hand to your clothed mound, a weak sigh leaving his lips as he cups over the wet spot that was forming just for him. Joel didn’t have to put in much work for you to be on the edge for him.

“I fucking hate you, Joel.”

He puffs out another breath of air through his nose. His way of laughing lately.

“Fuckin’ hate you more, baby.”

He toys with your panties for the remaining minutes of the drive, your nails having sunk so hard into his arm that you’re drawing small bits of blood from the moon-shaped cuts.

He damn near hauls you out of the truck once you’re parked. You leap into his arms as soon as the two of you walk past the threshold of his front door.

You force him to walk blindly through the house. He’s easily holding you up by one arm as you tighten your legs around his waist, causing your dress to ride up from the tension. You kiss him in a clash of teeth and tongues. You’re both ferociously horny for one another. And he’s pissed.

“Flirtin’ with my brother all fuckin’ night? You have fun with that?” He mutters against your mouth, slamming you up against the wall with a thud as your breath nearly knocks out of you from the force. He takes the opportunity of you planted there to grab the hem of your dress and push it up and off your body. His mouth latches to your exposed breasts, a throaty moan leaving your mouth as your small fists take him by the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck,” you let out breathily, throwing your head back against the wall and humming lowly.

“Answer me.” He ruts his hips up against your core, and you’re painfully aware of how naked he’s making you and how clothed he still is.

“He’s actually really nice-” He suckles harder on your nipple, forcing a hiss out of your mouth. “Think I might trade in my older model for something younger.” Your tone is teasing, but the words are enough to make him detach from your nipple, a sinister look wavering his features cold.

He sneers and tilts his head to the side and back before shaking his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

He rips you from the safety of the wall, your hands quickly scrabble to his shoulders to keep yourself upright while he leads you up the stairs to his bedroom. His heavy boots thud menacingly. You try to hide your smile in the crook of his neck, leaving angelic kisses on his neck and marking him with your lipstick, knowing how good Joel is about to make you feel.

He tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll, your bare body finds warmth in his sheets. You admire him from below as he pulls his shirt off by gripping the material at the back of his neck and hauling it off him in one swift motion. The sight alone makes your pussy ache and your insides churn.

God, he was so handsome. He had this soft bulk to his body that expanded from the hardened planes of his chest and toned tummy to the light bulge in his biceps. His chest hair was a sprinkle of dark black stippled with light grey hairs that became sparse before trickling to a thicker patch, creating his happy trail.

Holy fuck, he looked like he was going to devour you.

Joel wasted little time with formalities. He had your legs parted, the rough denim of his jeans grinding against your soft skin. His tongue explored your mouth while both of his palms massaged the supple plushness of your breasts. He was pinching your nipples between his fingers, making you whine into his mouth for relief while they hardened in his hold.

You slip your hands between your middles, fingertips gently trailing down to capture the button of his jeans and push down his zipper. You have to wiggle around a bit, as Joel is pinning you to the spot. You’re so desperate for him that it almost turns into a fight to get his jeans off. He tugs on your bottom lip, a light whimper leaving you upon tasting the metallic tang of blood fill your mouth.

You smack Joel’s arm until he releases you, huffing at him.

“Asshole.” You mutter.

He sneers at you as he places a delicate kiss to your lips in apology. “That’s what cunts get.” He mutters under his breath. The term makes you flinch, your hand coming up to give him a good smack across the face, but he captures your wrist and pins it back to the bed. You both eagerly consume one another in a desperate kiss. You think you see him smiling as he tastes the light scrape of blood he’s caused.

Joel moves his weight to his forearms and aids you in the ongoing war between you and his pesky jeans. With his weight off you, you easily push down his jeans and his black boxers, your feet pushing down the last of the material around his ankles. He sits back on his haunches, heavy hands gripping the sides of your panties as he pulls them down your legs, leaving you bare with him.

You immediately slip out of the hold he has on your wrist and put your hand between your legs. Your fingers move eagerly between your glistening folds and slick them up with arousal. He smacks your hand away and pins your wrist to the bed once more. So fucking disobedient.

Once he settles between you, a soft gasp escapes your lips once you feel his thick shaft landing heavily against your sex. He was thick and ready for the taking, his tip was red with anger and need.

“You were a real fuckin’ handful tonight.” He mutters, letting his tip slide up and down your glistening folds. You were not in the mood for teasing.

You grit your teeth and glare up at him. “I think Tommy agreed.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growls, your chest rising and falling quickly. He takes notice as your body tingles with excitement.

“Such a pain in my goddamn ass sometimes, more trouble than your worth.”

“Why don’t you toss me to Tommy then, huh? That way I can see which Miller brother fucks me better.” You sneer, a sloppy smirk crossing your features. It’s harshly stripped from you as Joel takes your face and squishes your cheeks with the grip of his hand. Your eyes clench closed at the slight pain, feeling him angle your head to face him. He’s power-hungry.

“Open those eyes, pretty girl.” His voice is rocky and lust-filled, dangerous like gasoline. It takes a moment, but you flutter them open. You didn’t realize that you were holding onto Joel’s puffed-up biceps, hard as a rock under your hold.

He slowly scans you, up and down, weighing his options of how to handle you. The problem that you were. His little brat. “You wanna cum tonight?”

Your ultimate weakness. A sheepish whimper leaves your squished lips, trying to blink back the slight tears that are forming from his manhandling. Mascara stings your eyes, but you hold his eye contact, because he asked you to, because it’s Joel, and you’d do anything for him at the end of the day.

You manage an “Mhm, please.” Joel’s eyes soften as he comes back to you and your warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, just angles his hips just right since you two fit perfectly together and thrusts inward. The breath in your lungs is punched out, head grinding back into the bed as your chin angles to the ceiling. You hiss at the initial discomfort that his thick cock causes. He’s fucked you a million times, but there’s nothing better than the first thrust where you’re still adjusting to his size, his girth, his length, his everything.

The clamp his hand has on your cheeks eventually releases, shifting the weight back to his forearms as his head settles above yours. He places another gentle kiss on your lightly swollen bottom lip. His loving reassurance warms your body. He’s starting steady, honorably letting your arousal take the lead in getting you both lubed up. He feels like heaven coursing through your tight hole, making himself the perfect fit for you.

You wrap your arms around his neck a little too tight, bringing him down into you as he breathily laughs against your ear.

"Y'know, it's kinda hard to be rough with ya when you're bein' so sweet."

Your chest heaves with his words, a sudden and impactful sense of vulnerability passing through you. It makes you nervous. It makes your skin swelter with warmth and makes a bead of sweat form at your temple. You and Joel don’t have this type of warmth in your relationship. Warm in the sense of boiling, too hot, too much, screaming and shouting and fighting and kissing. Not this. Not the gentle thrusts lightly rocking into you, letting you adjust to him, pulling him in for a gentle embrace as you capture him in a needy hug.

You’re not the I love you type, yet you said it to him this morning. Sort of. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly shake your head.

You remind yourself that he didn’t say it back this morning. He wasn’t saying it now. Was he just using you? No.. no, it wasn’t that. But he wasn’t going to let you meet his family. He wasn’t going to say he loved you. He wasn’t going to marry you if that’s even what you wanted right now. It wasn’t. But you couldn’t deny you thought about your future with Joel. Even with all the fighting, the anger, the jealousy, it was all out of love. But maybe that love was one-sided.

The arms you had draped around his neck turned into sinking your nails into the base of his back. You slowly began scraping them upwards and forming long, raised red lines in their path. Joel grunts and hisses at the burn he’s feeling, broad shoulders tightening and his hips snapping into you more ferociously now.

Your lower lip trembled with anger, but you didn’t let him see as you pushed his head down to your breasts. He took the hint with a broken moan as he suckled a bruise on your collarbone.

The pain of his thrusts turned into numbing pleasure, his tip kissing your cervix with each and every heavy snap of his thrusts.

“Fuck yeah, Joel,” you moan. You stroking his ego only makes his movements more methodical, one of his hands pushing your leg down onto the bed rather than snaking around his waist and exposing you to a new angle that left you searching for air. Joel returns his forehead to rest over yours, both of your sweat glistening. You stare into his eyes, and all you feel is anger and regret for saying you loved him. He was fucking you so good too, you both had never gone as slow as you had at the start. It was twisting the coil inside of you so smoothly, that your brain was getting foggy.

You moan into his ear, revenge and regret swirling inside of you like an insidious tornado. Your eyes flutter close in pleasure as you feel your orgasm begin to approach. “Fuck me, Tommy.”

It hits Joel like a ton of bricks. All his movements pause. He pulls away just half an inch and stares down at you. A cold, downright mean look crosses his face once you’ve popped your eyes open to take a look at him. The room suffocates you in silence.

“What did you say?” His voice is slow, slick with a cursed concoction of lust and fury.

Too far. Way too fucking far.

You pause as you try to recollect yourself, having just been nearly blinded by your approaching orgasm. “I- I said Joel,” Now you were just trying to convince yourself that you didn’t accidentally or not accidentally just moaned his brother's name in bed. “I-”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” He mutters, chest puffed up and muscles straining with veins like thick rivers coasting up his arms.

He starts slow. His hand shifts to fasten around your throat, and with each word that leaves him, his grip tightens. “Tell me… what you said.” He speaks through gritted teeth, eliciting a whimper from you as he snarls.

You swallow a lump in your throat, cold goosebumps flooding over your previously scorching hot skin. You were starting to feel the neglect from his lack of thrusts, whining softly as you tried to grind your hips up into his.

His large palm slams into your hip with force and pins you to the bed, letting out a whine of annoyance.

“You want Tommy fuckin’ you instead? Huh?” His jaw is tight and only clicking tighter as he stares daggers into you. Fuck, you were only flooding him with more of your arousal. You purposely flexed your tight walls around the swell of his cock.

“N-No, Joel -- fuck -- want you.” You whimper out as your hands soften on his shoulders, and you gently cup his face. He shakes his head loose of your hold, annoyance and anger still shooting up his spine.

“I don’t think you do, pretty girl, think you want someone else. Tommy.” His hips were thrusting again, harsh snaps that physically rocked your body up the bed with force that made your jaw drop. Fuck he felt so damn good. The lack of air was making your head swirl.

You took in a sharp breath as he manhandles your face once more, forcing you to look at him. “Dirty fuckin’ slut, you want both of us, don’t you?” Well, you can’t deny the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. He licks his lips before he spits on your face, lathering you in his saliva as you gasp in shock.

“J-Joel,” your words can’t come out smooth with how roughly he’s fucking you. His hips are slamming your thighs, and the bedframe is smacking the wall with all his might. “Fuck-ing- shit,” you throw your head back now up into his pillows and try to grip onto the sheets to maintain your position. That coil that was smoothly coursing you towards a gentle orgasm was long gone, as was Joel’s right mind. Now the coil was tightening and nearly breaking, your mind going blank and seeing stars.

“Say my name,” Joel grunts, his hand coming up and smothering the saliva he spat on your face. It runs black with your mascara tears and messy red lipstick before he brings his hand back to your throat.

You breathe heavily as your mind tries to connect syllables and make a coherent word. “I- I..” You can’t focus, and Joel punishes you for it. He spits on you again, hot and warm on your face, and all you can picture is if it was his cum showering you instead. “Fuck!” You shout at him. He takes the opportunity of your mouth open to speak, forcing two fingers inside.

“Suck’em, pretty little bitch,” Joel mutters, watching you with eyes from hell.

You whimper and suckle around his fingers, trying not to choke on them, focusing all your energy on trying not to get in more trouble. You line your tongue up and down both digits, tasting him, tasting Joel. He pulls his fingers from you with force and leaves your own saliva dribbling out of your messy mouth and down your chin.

He puts his slimy fingers to use and starts slowly circling your clit. Your eyes light up, wide, and you grip onto his bicep for desperation. “P-Please, too much, Joel,” you whimper, feeling the coil close to snapping as he starts doing precise figure-eights on your swollen nub. It was all too much.

“Say my name,” Joel says on repeat, your glassy eyes only being able to focus on him, just like he wanted.

He starts marking you with his mouth, ferocious teeth nipping at the sensitive skin along your breasts and collarbones, so harshly that they burn once he’s done, and covering you in red and purple splotches.

Joel’s grunting above you, withholding his own orgasm as another form of torturing you. “Say my name, god dammit, tell me who owns this fucking pussy.” He spits on you, mean and hot, and he’s all you can see, all you can think.

Say my name. Say my name. God dammit, say my fucking name.

“J-Joel!” You cry out his name and clench your eyes closed, but he doesn’t slow his thrusts or his fingers. “Fu-Fuck me, Joel, keep fucking me good, Joel, Joel, Joel- fuck!” you swallow down the lump in your throat as you see his goading smirk, his hips slamming you with all he’s got.

“Come on baby, want Tommy t’hear you, want the whole damn neighborhood t’hear you-- shit,” he mutters, eyes clenching closed as your walls flutter around him in a nearing orgasm.

“Say my name!” He shouts, and you cry out in pleasure.

He was like God, your God.

“Joel!” You cry out. The coil snaps, and the curtain falls down. Your back arches, and you throw your hips into Joel’s, fisting the sheets and dipping your eyes closed again as you let out a moan that shakes the entire house. Joel’s not long behind you, he paints your walls white in adoration, load after load marking your walls as his own, no one else's.

A few minutes pass and he’s still buried inside of you. You look psychotic, fucked dumb and raw. “I’m yours, Joel.” You say barely above a whisper, desperate eyes searching his own for warmth.

You’re twitching below him, overly exerted and tired. You’re motionless, half-dead under the man who resurrected you. He’s panting heavily from doing all the work per usual. His mouth is agape, trying to catch his breath as your numb limbs lie in place while he pulls out of you. He’s dripping with your arousal-cum mixture. Oh, but he’s not done. He kneels on the bed and smacks his hand against your pussy before cupping it.

It makes your eyes widen, and you let out an overstimulated cry at the feeling. You quickly shake your head, grip his wrist, and meet his eyes with a pleading expression. “N-No Joel, can’t -- fuck -- can’t do another one right away, give me a sec baby-”

“Do you know why I didn’t want Tommy to meet you?” His words ram your numb brain senseless.

You whimper as he’s already starting slow circles on your clit, goosebumps forming once more. You muster up a shake of your head.

No. No, I don’t know why you won’t let me meet your fucking brother, the question has been gnawing at me all damn day, though.

“When we were younger, Tommy had a bad streak of sneakin’ off with my girlfriends.” He did? You had no idea. Joel’s voice is deviously quiet during his story-telling, wrecked with residual anger and desire for you.

His thumb takes over massaging your clit, feeling both his index and middle finger slowly curl their way into your entrance. Your head nudges back against the pillows again, releasing a string of whimpers as he works you up again. He’s pushing his cum back inside of you while his fingers squelch.

“He was flirtin’ with ‘em, harmless at first, ‘til he decided he wanted ‘em for himself.” Your jaw tightens as he moves his thumb faster on your clit, angry that you let Tommy manipulate you into getting a rise out of Joel, just like he used to. He was using you as a pawn tonight.

“Got into so many damn fights over it. S’why my nose is a lil’ crooked. Tommy broke it with a punch, fightin’ about some girl I was seein’ in my twenties.” You frowned. Stop talking about your other girlfriends, Joel.

A quiet whimper left your lips as your pointer finger came up to brush along the light curve of his nose that you loved so much.

“Don’t feel bad for me, angel. I broke his goddamn arm for fuckin’ me over like that.” He had a dangerous smirk on his lips, one that you liked, one that made your heart race as he circled your clit even faster and started massaging your walls with his thick fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whispered, the heated coil in your tummy churning again out of the protectiveness and jealousy he felt for you today.

“He’s never met any of my girls since, so when I saw you walk into that bar..” he trailed off and started shaking his head. Your clit pulsed anxiously under the pad of his thumb, biting down harshly on your bruised and bloody lip. “Would never let him take you away from me. Never.” Your heart gushes for him.

“I’d never leave you, Joel,” you lightly whimpered, your body twitching and writhing under him. He shook his head and gently shushed you, cupping your cheek with his free hand. Your glassy eyes watched him in adoration, seeing crooked stars in your vision as you felt another orgasm heatedly approaching.

“Should’a told ya sooner. And you should’a stayed home. Listened to me for once,” He told you in a warning tone. You swallow the lump in your throat and gently nod, your thighs shaking against his legs that pinned yours wide open.

“S’why when I saw ya in the bar, knew I had t’take you home and make you mine, devil woman.” He muttered with a small smirk. The nickname made a desperate smile trickle on your lips.

“Yeah?” You said in a sheepish whimper, your walls fluttering around his fingers that were gently exploring your insides, leaving you so close to cumming again. It was too fast, and too damn hot in the room, but Joel was making you his, and that’s all you were going to focus on.

“So what d’you say?” He asks, raising a curious eyebrow.

“‘M sorry.” You muster up. “I-I’m sorry, Joel,” He’s got you panting for dear life as your thighs twitch while you near closer and closer to the edge.

He slowly shakes his head. “And what else, pretty girl?”

You cock your head and furrow your brows at him, unsure of what he wants you to say next.

“Say my name, tell me you love me again.” His fingers abandon your entrance and solely focus on pleasuring your clit, going so fast, too fast. His head comes down by yours, resting his forehead against your temple as your eyes force themselves closed.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper.

“Look at me, baby.” He whispers to you, placing light kisses by the corner of your eye to bring attention to him.

Your long lashes flutter on your cheeks before your fucked out face turns to Joel. “I love you, I love you, Joel, I love y-you- fuck,” you moan out loudly, throwing your head back and grinding your hips up into his hand. You do love him, the sick bastard that he was.

Your second release is only minutes from your last; it sparks you like a firework, and you feel your bones tingle. This man was not one to contend with. But you did anyway because you loved him.

You come down from being overstimulated. He plays this mean game where he grazes his fingers as light as a feather on different parts of your body, watching as your muscles and body twitch from being short-circuited.

“Fuck you.” You murmur.

His feet find the floor, his cock still hanging by his thighs, drenched in residual slick. He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the faucet run. It rings in your ears, still trying to center yourself after being fucked to oblivion tonight.

You didn’t realize your eyes had fallen close until you heard his feet padding towards you as he approached with a warm washcloth. You hum softly gently wipes your face from his spit and your mucky mascara before he rotates the washcloth and wipes at the inside of your thighs. You’re still a little sensitive, you can’t help but let your face twinge.

He’s careful as he makes sure you’re clean, catching any residual spill. He tosses the washcloth into the laundry basket before he goes searching in your bag for something you can wear.

“Joel?”

He pauses his movements. “Already know what you’re gonna say.” You instantly smile and observe him. He was so handsome.

He stops looking through your bag for clothes and moves to his closet. He takes his time choosing what he wants you to wear, which makes you giggle a little bit from bed. You’re motionless, with no energy to move or even roll over. Barely enough to speak.

He settles on a Metallica band t-shirt, at least twenty years old, with the cotton perfectly soft and worn in. He moves to his dresser and fishes out a clean pair of boxers. They were the most comfy to wear, you had to admit. Panties were to show off your ass before sex. Boxers were for after all that was finished.

“You okay?” he whispers, to which you slowly nod. He’s always been so good with aftercare, even after a full day of arguing followed by a full night of fucking.

The boxers are soft as they coast up your legs, and he settles them on your hips. The band reads Calvin Klein. You muster up enough strength to sit up on your elbows, and he helps you put the baggy shirt on. It messes up your hair, and he tries to smooth it over, which makes you bubble up a laugh. “It’ll just get all messed up when we sleep, but thanks,” you whisper before falling back into his pillows once again.

Joel smirks widely before he lays down tiredly beside you on his front, like a big giant collapsing with a large huff. Your hand travels gently up his back, seeing the raised and jagged lines your nails had caused, your anger had caused. His jaw twitches, but he doesn’t let you know he’s feeling pain.

“Joel?” You whisper and work up the energy to shimmy closer to him, your foreheads gently resting together.

“Hm?” He murmurs.

You feel shy all of a sudden, still vulnerable. “Happy birthday, Joel. I love you.”

He slowly smiles, a sense of pride flooding his body as he pulls you in closer to him by your hip. He gently glides his thumb across your swollen bottom lip and kisses you lightly. “I love you, too. No matter how much of a brat you are.”

You slowly grin and close your eyes as your heads rest beside one another.

“Oh my god.” You mutter to yourself. Joel pulls his head away to look down at you.

“What is it, angel?”

You groan lightly and hide your face in your hands. “The cake! I left it out all day, it’s probably dry as fuck now!”

Joel lets out a puff of laughter, stroking your sweat-soaked hair away from your face. “S’okay, wasn’t gonna have any, anyway.”

“Yes, you were.” You huff, your finger gently gliding down his nose once more before you gently kiss the tip in adoration.

He hums softly at your decent behavior. “Good girl.”

---

masterlist

A reminder that I no longer use taglists!! to keep up with my writing, follow @hellishfics and turn on notifications to keep updated!

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #hellishjoelrequest #joel miller x reader

1K notes · View notes

2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

------------------------------

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

#the entire conversation in the van - and the purpose of max's role - came to me late at night #and i was so excited i could barely sleep afterward #everything fell into place after that #steddie fic: november paramedic #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #my writing #ok so about the car:#(first off i want to admit i know nothing about cars)#in the show steve drives a bmw 733i. the car is gorgeous imo. however while luxurious at the time it's not expensive today.#so i looked up modern luxury cars and found the 30 jahre m5 - the limited edition from when bmw m5 celebrated 30yrs in 2014 #only 300 got made and only 30 were sold in the us. they were as you might imagine expensive.#so the story here is that steve got one for his 16th birthday (would've been in 2015 in this fic)#probably from a doting grandparent since i doubt his parents would've given something so expensive to a teen #fun fact: every 30 jahre m5 is colored 'frozen dark silver' (gray. they're fucking gray.)#but since it's NOT steve's car if it's not burgundy and since i've already erased covid's existence... i don't think this change matters

3K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 4 months

Text

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › series masterpost › taglist

Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied.

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes.

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately.

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods.

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly.

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield.

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

463 notes · View notes

morbific-or-felicific · 1 year

Text

-AGNOSTHESIA Featuring Scaramouche

Part 2 Part 3

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 3.5k~

Description: A study session with Scaramouche gets spicy

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

Join The Tag List

“Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ve been explaining this to you for over an hour. How do you not understand?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! This class is just really hard, and I haven’t really been able to understand anything from the last few lectures. It's all just gotten so complicated.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your major? Why did you pick something challenging if you’re too stupid to understand any of it?”

“I’m not too stupid! It’s just a challenging class!”

“Why did you beg me to tutor you if you were just going to waste my time?”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, nearly every study session the two of you have had ended with an incredibly frustrated Scaramouche and an equally confused you. It’s not that you weren’t trying. You paid attention the best that you could in lectures, and you did all the readings. You even used up most of your free time studying! But regardless, you were still hopeless.

Of course, having Scaramouche as a tutor was supposed to make things easier; he was at the top of the class, after all. However, it almost made things more difficult, given the fact that during your study sessions you were constantly getting distracted by how pretty the man was and how close the two of you were to your bed. You probably enjoyed the insults he threw at you due to your lack of understanding just a bit too much too. But no way would you ever admit to that.

~♡~

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. It was 1:45pm. Your class started at 1:00pm. This was not good. You burst through the doors, immediately drawing everyone's attention and making your professor stop mid sentence. You were mortified. On this particular occasion, you had spent all night studying before dragging yourself to your school's library to continue studying. You had planned to spend your morning studying before your lecture at 1:00pm. You had not planned to fall asleep until 1:25pm and have to run to a whole other building to get to your lecture. You had been spending all your time trying to keep up with your peers in your astrobiology course, but it appears that plan had backfired, as you had already missed half of your class and would need to beg someone for their notes, perhaps an explanation as well. You looked around for a seat, quickly realizing that the only easily accessible spot was near the back next to Scaramouche. Fuck. Scaramouche was the best student in the class, but he was also notoriously unapproachable and impossible to work with. You had been stuck doing a group project with him before, and he had been a controlling nightmare. Ever since then though, he had occasionally spoken to you if you came close enough to insult. You took a deep breath, swallowed your fear, and started up the stairs. The class had continued on in the moments since your interruption, so you didn’t expect Scaramouche to be staring directly at you when you glanced at him on your way to your spot beside him. You looked away and got to your seat as quickly as you could.

“Well, if it isn’t the smartest girl in class.”

You fought the urge to insult him back, but you knew that if you wanted to get any help from him, you couldn’t risk giving him a reason not to help you. You gave him the nicest smile you could muster; he rolled his eyes at your attempt to be nice. You sat down next to him and set up your computer to take notes for the rest of class. After another half hour had passed and you were hopelessly confused, you turned to Scaramouche to ask him for some help.

“Hey, uh, I’m pretty lost; do you think you could give me the notes you took for the first half of the class?”

“Do you really think that’ll help you? It’s not like you even understand the lectures you don’t miss.”

“I understand them!”

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned his attention back to the professor. That’s when you had an idea that might actually work.

“Hey, do you have any spare time that you could maybe use to help me with the work from this class?"

“Do you really think that I would willingly spend my free time tutoring you? Why on earth would I do that?”

You took a deep breath, silently praying that this would work.

“If you agree to tutor me, I’ll give you Kazuha’s number.”

“You’ll what?”

Yes! He was interested.

“I’ll give you Kazuha’s number, and I’ll put in a good word for you with him.”

“Kazuha? As in Kaedehara? Are you serious?”

He was just staring at you, looking very serious. Clearly, this was important to him.

“Yes, I promise.”

Scaramouche chuckled to himself a little before sighing.

“Okay. Text me where your dorm is. I’ll tutor you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“I uh…don’t have your number.”

“You don’t? I have yours.”

“Yeah that’s because I gave it to you. Just text me and I’ll send you my building and room number, okay?”

“Fine.”

You sighed. Why did he have to be gay?

A few moments later, you got a text that said, “Hey loser”. You sent him your dorm information and a list of what times on those days you were free. And just like that, you had a tutor.

When you eventually talked to Kazuha about Scaramouche and how you had given him his number, Kazuha seemed confused, but after an oddly long stare behind you and a glance at his phone, he seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him.

~♡~

“Are you really this stupid? Or do you just like it when I insult you?”

“I’m not stupid! And don’t pretend like you aren’t getting anything out of this!”

“Right, I get to have you meddling in my love life. How could I forget?”

“You agreed to this! I didn’t make you do anything!”

“No, you just gave me an opportunity to spend time with the person I have feelings for, but only if I spend all my free time trying to teach an idiot her major.”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop saying that!”

“You can’t expect me to sit here and watch you screw things up I didn’t think anyone could possibly screw up and not insult you. You’re practically begging for it.”

You huffed a frustrated sigh and went back to your work while your tutor sat there on his phone. How was all of this so easy for him when you could barely understand any of it? You were working so hard but had nothing to show for it except for low grades and a tutor who is the furthest thing from being into you, who also somehow kept getting you all worked up and needy. Part of you wanted to just tell him to stop coming over so you could get through a study session without getting sexually frustrated. However, you also didn’t want to stop spending time with him…because, uh, because Scaramouche was helping you improve! Not for any other reason. Oh nevermind, who were you trying to fool? You definitely had feelings for him, even though you knew they would never be reciprocated. It wasn’t long before you reached another question that stumped you.

“I’m confused.”

“What else is new?”

“Shut up. Can you help me?”

He stared at you and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something. You sighed.

“Please?”

“What’s the question?”

“What is a carbonaceous chondrite?”

“Have you been paying any attention in class? At all?”

“I-”

Scaramouche cut you off.

“Even if you aren’t paying attention in class, you have my notes, and you’ve been asking me endless questions. Wait, I forgot. You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m not an-!”

Once again, he cut you off.

“No, you are. At this point, I’m not even trying to insult you. It’s just a fact.”

“Why?! What did I do that was so dumb?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you remember how you convinced me to be your tutor? Of course you do. You gave me Kazuha’s number. Do you want to know why he was so confused when you told him that? Because I’ve known him since I was a kid; we’re best friends. He only went along with it because I had followed you and was a ways behind you trying to get him to check his messages because I had to send him a text explaining that the girl I have feelings for thinks I’m gay and in love with him, and since he knows how dumb you are, he went along with it for my sake. I honestly thought that you would have figured it out by how nice I’ve been to you ever since we did that project together.”

You couldn’t believe it. Scaramouche has a crush on you, maybe even for as long as you’d had a crush on him. And oh my god you were stupid; he was best friends with Kazuha? How had you missed that?! Oh god, that means Kazuha knew you were stupid too…how did you even make such a big mistake?

“You…like me…? And you’re best friends with Kazuha…? What do you mean you’ve been nice to me ever since our project? You insult me all the time! Even before you started tutoring me, you were mean to me!”

“I talked to you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s nice enough. Anyway, I guess I should be going now huh?”

“Wait uh, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh? Maybe you do like it when I insult you, hm?”

“That isn’t important. I just need you to stay because you promised to tutor me, and I still need help.”

That gave Scaramouche an idea.

“Huh, maybe you just need better motivation to learn…”

He smirked at you before standing up from his spot on your bed and closing the little distance there was from where he had been sitting and where you were seated at your desk. He turned your spinny chair to face him and leaned down so his face was in front of yours and flicked your forehead.

“Hey, dummy, want me to fuck you?”

He laughed quietly at your slack jawed reaction. He stood back to his full height and sat back down on your bed. He gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You stared at him blankly, confident that you had misinterpreted his action.

“Come on now. You’re not really this stupid, are you?”

That was enough confirmation for you. You stood up from your chair and were about to sit down on his lap when he stopped you.

“Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t exactly leave any room for argument, so, as embarrassed as you were, you started taking off your clothes while Scaramouche watched you. You got down to your underwear and stopped, unsure if he wanted you to continue.

“Go on.”

Okay then. You took off your bra and your underwear, now feeling awkward with your tutor sitting in front of you fully clothed. He motioned you forward again and you sat down on his lap. He moved a hand between your legs and ran a finger down your slit before laughing.

“You’re so wet already, I guess you liked those insults more than you let on.”

His comment somehow turned your face redder than it already was. You would have made some kind of argument, however, you suddenly became preoccupied with the feeling of him pushing two of his fingers inside of you and fucking you with them. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans at the feeling. He snickered at the sounds you were making, even going so far as to mock the sound of your moans.

“‘Mmf ah oh fuck mmm haah,’ you sound so pathetic.”

You tried to quiet the sounds you were making, but that only made him more upset.

“Don’t stop. I like hearing you whining like a bitch in heat.”

He pulled his fingers out of you then pushed them past your lips and into your mouth. While you cleaned off his fingers like a good little slut, he used his other hand to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and lined you up over his cock before bringing you down onto it. You heard him suck in a breath and let out a chuckle.

“Hah, shit, you feel good.”

You could only let out a whine in response. He bottomed out inside of you. After you took a few moments to adjust, you tried to lift yourself up, but found you couldn’t move an inch with the tight grip your tutor had on your hips.

“Wha…?”

“You said that you needed me to stay to tutor you, so, I’m here to tutor you.”

Was he seriously going to try to tutor you while he had you sitting on his cock? No, this couldn’t actually be happening.

“But…but I can’t…”

“You will. I’m just giving you some extra motivation.”

He smirked at you once again.

“What role do supernovae play in the origin, evolution, and development of life?”

You couldn’t think. You were far too preoccupied with the feeling of his cock deep inside of you.

“I don’t… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“Come on, you answered this correctly last week.”

Had you? Part of you thought he was lying to you just to make you feel stupider.

“I don’t know it…”

Your response came out as a whine.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

One of his hands moved away from your waist. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, but then you felt a hard slap come down on your ass.

“Ahh! What…? Why did you?”

“You need some consequence for your stupidity.”

You tried to clear your head for the next question.

“Why is it more likely that we will find prokaryotes rather than eukaryotes when we finally explore Europa, Enceladus, or Mars?”

“I don’t know Scara-”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. Did he slap you?

“I don’t want my name in the mouth of a worthless slut like you.”

He paused for a second.

“Did you just get tighter? You really are slut.”

You blushed and looked away from him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really were enjoying yourself. However, the fact that your tutor still wasn’t fucking you was driving you insane. You prayed that soon enough he would get bored tormenting you and finally fuck you.

“Instead of calling me by my name, why don’t you just call me master, hmm?”

“Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“Okay master…”

“Aw, so the slut can be good! Well, since you’re so stupid, I’ll give you an easy question next. What substances are emitted from cryovolcanoes?”

Oh thank god, you actually knew this one.

“Water, ice, ammonia, nitrogen, and methane…right?”

He just watched you for a moment with a little smile while doubt started to build in your mind.

“That’s correct. But it really was such an easy question, maybe I should continue teaching you…”

“Please Sca- master…”

“Oh? What are you asking for?”

“I want you to fuck me…please…”

He watched you for a few moments, contemplating his decision.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg, and I’ll fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

There was no way you were going to beg Scaramouche to fuck you. That would be humiliating. But if it would get him to fuck you…no. You weren’t that desperate for him, were you? However, all of your reasoning flew out the window when Scaramouche lifted you up his cock and dropped you back down.

“Fuck please master, fuck me, I need it so bad, need to feel you wreck me, want you to use me however you want, please!”

“However I want, hmm?”

Before you could reply, he had lifted you off of his cock and moved you so you were on your hands and knees. He got up from his spot and knelt behind you.

“But master I wanna- mmf!”

Your tutor pushed your head into the pillows.

“Stupid little sluts don’t get to touch me or watch me fuck them.”

With that, he pushed his cock back into you. God, why did he feel so big? He’s short, so why does it feel like he’s in your fucking throat from this angle?

“And arch your fucking back, whore.”

You did as he asked, and all you got in response was him letting out a little laugh. He started fucking you slow but deep, and you couldn’t help the moans that were escaping your lips, but thankfully, they were muffled by the pillows, so he could barely hear them. Fuck, this felt so good. The fact that he tortured you before getting here didn’t even matter anymore, as long as he could make you feel like this.

Before too long, you could feel an orgasm approaching, and though you tried to let him know, the pillows obstructing your mouth caused your warning to come out as, “mhmhfm hm hmhm hmm!” and your tutor continued to ignore you. Eventually however, you felt yourself start to tip over the edge. You really did try to tell Scaramouche, but he just wouldn’t listen. He was far too wrapped up in the feeling of fucking you. When you finally tipped over the edge, Scaramouche stopped moving entirely, effectively giving you a very shitty orgasm. He grabbed your hair and hauled you up to him so he could talk to you without pillows getting in the way.

“Did you just fucking cum without asking, princess?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, and you were terrified of what would come next. He twisted the hair he had grabbed making you cry out.

“Hmmm how should I punish you? Dumb sluts like getting spanked, don’t they?”

You shook your head the best you could with how he had your hair.

“Aw, of course they do.”

He pushed your face back into the pillows and let go of your hair. There was a moment of silence as you waited for what would come next. You felt a sharp pain as his hand came down on your ass. Was he this strong before? You were confident that there would be a red handprint on your ass now. He landed another smack, causing you to emit a little yelp. He continued your punishment until you were shaking and crying. Finally, he decided he was done and wrapped a hand around your throat before once again hauling you upright. He moved his lips next to your ear.

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t like that. I could feel how tight you were.”

You blushed, but before you could respond to him, he started fucking you again, this time hard and fast. Fuck, how did he feel even deeper in you now? He reached a hand around to play with your clit. Fuck, were you going to cum a second time?

“Can I cum? Please, need to so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Instead of stopping like you had expected, he kept fucking you, and within a few seconds, he had you seeing stars. He kept going this time, fucking you through your orgasm. However, he didn’t stop when you were done. He kept going, looking to reach his own end.

“Do you want master to fill you up with his cum? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes please, please!”

Scaramouche leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly, he let go of you before pushing you back down and flipping you over before finishing on your stomach. Fuck, you were glad you got to see that at least.

“Worthless little whores don’t deserve to be filled with my cum.”

After he said that, some switch seemed to flip in his brain, and he got up to go search for a cloth to clean you up with. He returned and sat next to you on the bed, wiping the cum off of your stomach.

“Are you okay…?”

You were amazed. He looked like a concerned puppy. Was this really the same guy that was telling you how worthless you were a second ago?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

You stared back at him. But after your confirmation, he seemed to go back to his usual self.

“So uh, does this mean anything…?”

“What?”

“I understand if it doesn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I was just-”

He flicked your forehead.

“Did u miss the part where I told you I have feelings for you? Why would this mean nothing? God, you really are stupid.”

Yep, definitely back to his usual self.

“Wait, so does that mean you wanna like, date?”

He let out a big sigh.

“I suppose I’m willing to have an idiot for a girlfriend.”

“Fine, then I’m willing to have an asshole for a boyfriend!”

He rolled his eyes at you and let out a little laugh before laying down in bed next to you. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had your head resting on Scaramouche’s chest, and before too long, you had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#this took a surprising amount of time to write the first half of but the second half was so fast so that was good #also i think the scaramouche x kazuha thing was really funny but im also an idiot so #longest fic yet babyyyyyyy #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

1K notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 8 months

Text

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse.

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched.

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else?

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer.

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.”

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom.

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied.

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat.

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out.

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth.

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.”

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy.

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.”

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was.

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly.

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol.

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.”

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently.

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name.

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person.

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown.

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!”

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area.

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

“He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow.

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile.

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face.

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view.

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger.

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out.

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud.

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly.

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #female reader #reader insert #take care of you

702 notes · View notes

monzabee · 1 year

Text

you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all.

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely.

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain.

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September.

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–”

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.”

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?”

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student.

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee.

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster.

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair.

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!”

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time.

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.”

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid.

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.”

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.”

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?”

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day.

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape.

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot.

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.”

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.”

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue.

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.”

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument.

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.”

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements.

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.”

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue.

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips.

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend.

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year.

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.”

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather.

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.”

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better.

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light.

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.”

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh.

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?”

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room.

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder.

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you.

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice.

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?”

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother.

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.”

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.”

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders.

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well.

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.”

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you.

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off.

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.”

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!”

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.”

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?”

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!”

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?”

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.”

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest.

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things.

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on.

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.”

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time.

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps.

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.”

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself.

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying, while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie.

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.”

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.”

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair.

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind.

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter.

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice.

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out.

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?”

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.”

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.”

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?”

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.”

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.”

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.”

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.”

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout.

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke.

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.”

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.”

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.”

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.”

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused.

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Now in French?”

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.”

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“What?” He asks in horror.

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide.

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home.

#monzabee #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

2K notes · View notes

sensei-venus · 7 months

Text

Miguel’s Old Flannel~ (Miguel Diaz x Chubby!Reader)

(Edited) (Date Night, Collage!Miguel, Body Worship, Mild Rough Sex)

Miguel just couldn't stop staring at his girlfriend from the minute she got out of the bathroom. His eyes locked onto her figure as she moved around his room looking for something, he had no idea what. Eyes focused on her figure, the way her thighs jiggled a little as she moved around the room, or the way her ass was basically eating the old pair of night shorts she had brought over at some point. But what got him really going was his stupid old flannel button-up she had dug out of his closet.

The beginning of the night was spent having fun out on a dinner date. After an amazing dinner, they had stopped at a classy little sidebar in town to just have a small drink before heading back to Miguel's place for the night. It was all fun for a while, the two of them talked and kissed a bit in a small booth in the back of the bar.

They cuddled for an hour or so before finishing their drinks and calling it a night and getting ready to leave. He remembered watching her stand up from the booth, he made sure her short dress didn't ride up from sitting down. A split second later she was gasping and stumbling back into the booth table, the front of her dress covered in cold cheap beer.

The whole top of her dress was covered in booze from some random guy who bumped into her. Miguel shot up from the booth in a split second ready to bow up at the guy who just ruined his girlfriend's new dress and completely embarrassed her in front of the whole bar full of people.

The asshole didn't even apologize and just walked off before anyone could say something. Miguel wanted to go off and tell the guy off, even throw a punch or two, but his girlfriend stopped him by saying "It's ok Miggy, how about we just go back to your place and I'll get cleaned up? I just want to get this crap off me before it gets too sticky and I start smelling too bad." She smiled at him and he could only sigh back.

The two of them left and quickly drove back to his apartment where he let her grab whatever she wanted out of his closet to change into. She took a quick shower and showed back up wearing his old flannel.

Now she was parading around his room, ass out, chubby belly poking out the bottom of the slightly snug shirt, round plump breasts that looked like they could spill out at any moment. He couldn't tell if she was acting stupid or if she knew that she was making his dick hard with every jiggle or with every bend that showed off her fat ass.

He wasn't lying about the fact that those shorts were practically getting eaten by her ass, from his viewpoint from the bed he could tell she didn't put any panties on after taking a shower. One wrong move, one slip and he knew he would get an eye full of her naked folds. He wished she would come a little closer and bend over right in front of him just so he could get a nice eye full of her pussy.

"Miguel, can you help me find my phone? I left it somewhere in here but I can't seem to find it," she mumbled as she picked over some random clothes that littered his room. He smirked as he got up from his bed and strolled over to her wiggling form. He slowly snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her wide waist. His hands gripped at the bottom roll of her belly that squeezed out from under his shirt.

He groaned into her hair, his cheek pressed firmly into the side of her head. He smiled saying " You know I think you may have left it on the bed before you got in the shower." His breath fanning over her ear. She gave a small smile before rolling her eyes and gently prying his arms from around her.

She gently pushed him off before walking over to the bed and looking over the sheets and blanket for her lost phone.

Before she could even try to start actually looking for her missing phone, she felt a strong hand push her down onto the bed. Her upper half folded and crumpled down onto the soft mattress. She let out a surprised gasp as large warm hands spread her ass cheeks, a second later one cheek was let go but then a heavy-handed slap was received onto that exact cheek. She could only let out a small pleasure-filled moan as her abused ass cheek was once again pulled apart, her shorts were only pulled to the side for a moment, and her damp pussy lips exposed.

"Shit mama your already getting wet for me and all I did was give you a little spank to the ass? I think I might have to fix that." a moment later she felt him run a thick thumb through her folds, pushing on her clit before running down her lips to her hole.

She could feel herself twitch as his thumb slowly pushed into her, she shivered and bit her bottom lip as he moved his finger in and out of her tight cunt."Miggy please stop teasing me like that." Her voice was pitched a little too much for her liking, the way he slowly traced her gummy walls made her squirm. He was playing with her. Her face was growing hotter and hotter by the minute the more he played around with her cunt.

She could feel the way she was starting to drip off his finger. Moments later the thumb that had been inside her was removed and before she could protest, the shorts she had on were yanked off and she was being lifted and thrown onto the bed face first. She yelped as she was manhandled onto the bed.

Her head turned to look at the smirking Miguel who stood at the front of the bed. He was quick to make work of his sweatpants and boxers, his shirt was pulled off and thrown on the other side of the room. Her eyes were half-lidded as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. The way his abs moved every time he took a deep breath or the way his pecs naturally twitched in the moment. Her mouth watered as her eyes moved south. The way he held his fat cock in one hand and slowly stroked it. He was already hard and waiting.

She watched as the same thumb that had just been inside her was rubbed over his slit, swiping away a bead of pre. Her mind was fuzzy as he joined her on the bed and went to work kissing along her neck and the exposed area of her chest. Her fingers slowly started to unbutton the shirt to give him more room.

When she reached the last button she was starting to pant, she tried to completely take the old shirt off she was stopped by Miguel's hands on top of hers.

"Keep it on, I want to fuck that pretty little cunt while you wear my shirt, got it." his like were hot against her soft tit as he looks up at her with his big brown puppy dog eyes.

She nodded as she let the now-open shirt fall open. A moment later she was flipped over onto the big bed, her face in the sheets as her ass hung in the air completely exposed to her boyfriend who hovered over her body. She moaned out as once again she was spread open, but a moment later the blunt head of Miguel's dick was pushing into her hole. He was slow to enter, he hissed as her tight walls pulled him in. She was so hot and wet that he could nearly stop himself from going balls deep right into her.

It didn't take long for him to bottom out inside her. Within seconds had was already pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in. The sound of his balls meeting thick ass echoed around his room. One of his hands played with her rolls before landing on one of her breasts.

His fingers pulled and pinched at her hard nipple as he grouped at the flesh of her tit. His other hand pushed her face into the bed, her face tilted to the side as she moaned out at every thrust. Her body jiggled with every thrust making Miguel almost purr with lust. His chest molded to her back. He sucked along the back of her neck and across her shoulders.

He could only smirk as he speed up and his girlfriend squirmed and whimpered in pleasure under him. He grunted out as his trusts grew deeper and the sounds of their lovemaking got louder. Actually he fully admitted, it wasn't love making, he was fucking his girlfriend stupid. He could feel her tight little cunt squeeze around him every time he moved inside of her.

He could feel the wetness pooling around the base of his dick and the way it was starting to drip down his balls. The way she moved against him made him grin even harder. Her ass moved back against him every time he pulled out. If he was really in the teasing mood he would have loved to completely pull out and slap his dick over her wet cunt a few times for show. But he didn't feel like it, he just wanted to watch his girlfriend fall apart on his dick, in his shirt. It wasn't long before he knew she was close.

The way she was starting to clamp up around his shaft and her thick thighs started to shake, threatening to collapse under her. Her moans were starting to turn into high-pitched screams into the sheet below. He could his own balls drawing up with every pass of her wet folds. He quickly flipped her on her side, throwing a leg over his shoulder and straddling the other one. He watched as her belly pooled and rolled with every thrust he made. The way her tits bounced. Her eyes were squeezed shut but he could see the tears in her lashes. She moaned out as she grasped at his forearm and moved against him. Her lips were swollen and he could see where she was biting at her bottom one.

He couldn't stop himself from pulling open the shirt more and letting one of his free hands go down to start circling her clit. She hissed at the feeling of her clit being played with. He speed up as he mouthed at her tit.

"Cum on my cock mama, cream on my dick and I'll fuck a load right into that cunt. You deserve a fat load right in that fat cunt. Being such a good girl for me, taking my fat cock like a champion. Cum mama."

A few thrusts later she was clamping around him, he could only watch as her belly squeezed and her legs shook. Her foot dug into his back as her toes curled from her orgasm. Her scream was silent. Her chest shook as she panted out, he could almost feel her vibrating underneath him. His own orgasm hit him like a wave. He was balls deep as he shot his load right into her cunt. He could feel himself jerk inside her with every new spurt of seed. He rocked back and forth into her, his fingers still playing with her clit to help her ride out her orgasm. For a good second, he could feel the head of his dick brush against her cervix.

They sat like that for a good few minutes, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Their skin was tacky with sweat. Miguel didn't want to pull out, he wanted to keep her used cunt stuffed with his cum for the rest of the night, but he slowly pulled out. He let her leg fall to the side as the head of his soft cock left her hole with a small pop, leaving it gapping and sticky.

He smirked as he watched her little pussy gasp around nothing and a slow trickle of white seed started to drip out onto the sheets below. His dick left with a creamy ring around the base as a happy reminder of how his girl creamed all over him.

Catching her breath she panted out " Maybe I should dig around in your closet for stuff to wear to bed more often if that's the kinda reaction I'm going to get out of you." She gave a tired smile.

Miguel could only raise an eyebrow before smirking and replying back "I don't think you will even fit in one the next time, your tits will be too full of milk and your belly too big with our kid. If we keep doing this I knew ill get you pregnant before the end of the year."

He watched as her head fell back into the bed with her eyes closed in her orgasm afterglow.

He could only bite his lip as he watched more cum drip down her folds and down her ass.

302 notes · View notes

cafeacademia · 1 year

Text

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are absolutely falling for Sebastian, but you're convinced he couldn't possibly share the same feelings and it leads you to avoid him a little more often. Only now he's starting to get an idea of what's really on your mind.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Some jealousy from Sebastian, pining, reader is a little self conscious, love confessions, shyness, a little bit of heated kissing, I only lightly edited this, so apologies for any mistakes.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 2k

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! Here's my first Sebastian fic, hopefully this came out okay! I'd LOVE some more Sebastian requests if you have any, if you'd like to send one please feel free! Please just check my current guidelines here Enjoy reading!! Comments and reblogs are not necessary but really appreciated!

Sebastian Sallow was certainly not going to be the reason for your gloomy mood. No, absolutely not. It was simply not fair that he was stupidly handsome and annoyingly flirtatious and all while you knew he couldn’t possibly like someone like you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Was it obvious? Too obvious or not enough that you liked him? Were the shy looks and the way you stumbled over your words when he smirked at you enough to tell him how you felt? Or did they just make you look silly? It was hard to tell with Sebastian, because as with all things, he felt the need to playfully flirt with you. It was impossible to tell how he felt about you, but Merlin, you wished he knew the way he affected you.

But perhaps it was best he didn’t know. You were sure you weren’t his type. You’d always been a bit self conscious and you were convinced that Sebastian just flirted with you because that was just his way of messing about and getting under people’s skin. You supposed it at least worked as intended, if that was indeed his intention.

You longed to be more than friends with Sebastian. Your first two years at Hogwarts had been all sorts of mischief and adventures together and you were sure that now in your seventh year that there was likely no end to those adventures any time soon, not while you spent nearly every waking hour together. But that didn’t remedy the flutter of butterflies in your stomach when you saw him. Nor did it quell the urge to reach out and hold his hand when you felt shy or afraid or just felt the need to be closer to him. Not to mention the undeniable urge to blurt it out at him when you sat alone together in the quiet moments.

You wanted so badly for him to know about your feelings for him, but at the same time, the thought of telling him and the fear of rejection was too much to allow those words to pass your lips.

So you stayed quiet. Being friends was better than falling out because you had opposite feelings for each other.

Perhaps the thing that made all of this worse was Sebastian’s recent escapades into taking flirting a step further with the girls he liked. As far as you knew, it never went further than a little heated moment in a secluded area, with nothing but a few kisses, but Sebastian was Sebastian and that smirk and charisma was sure to charm a girl into his bed at some point or another.

“Putting the world to rights, are we?” Speak of the devil. Sebastian sat down opposite you in the library, and he shall appear. “What’s on your mind? Because that look on your face is definitely not the type that goes along with Astronomy homework.” “It’s nothing, Seb.” You put on a smile and tried to shake off the lingering doubts in your head as you attempted to reorientate yourself with the task you had been doing before you’d zoned out. “Hmm, it doesn't look like nothing.” He sighed. “Is Garreth-.” “Garreth has not asked me to do his homework for him since you threatened to put pus in his pillow last term, Sebastian.” You snorted. “He was exploiting your inability to say no to people.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, is that it?” “Well perhaps,” He gave you a lopsided grin. “It was also because he was taking up too much of your time and I like to have my friends all to myself.” Your heart beat fast and you felt your cheeks prickle with uncontrollable heat at his comment. “Speaking of which, will you come with me to Hogsmeade later after class? I feel like I’ve barely seen you recently.” You supposed it was true, you had kind of tried to avoid him the more intense your feelings had become, but you couldn’t deny him time together, not when you loved it so much, “Of course.” You nodded in agreement, smiling softly at him. “Good, I’ll meet you outside of your class. But,” He paused. “You still haven’t told me what put such a sad look on your lovely face.” He was teasing, but there was an air of genuine concern. You sighed, twisting your hands in your lap as you diverted your gaze down to your books on the table in front of you. “I’ve just been feeling a little um, off?” You provided, though the raised brow that Sebastian gave you said all that he needed to say. He didn’t believe you.

The bell tolled and with that, you quickly began to pack your things. “I’ve got to go, Hecat won’t be pleased if I’m late again.”

Without another word, you picked up your things and rushed out of the library without him despite needing to attend the same class together, leaving Sebastian to stare after you, confused and at a loss.

Was it something he said? Sebastian swore that recently you had avoided telling him things, or releasing any of your thoughts about nearly anything he talked about these days. Perhaps you were growing apart, things like that happened, didn’t they? But Sebastian got the distinct impression that this was not a matter of growing apart, something lingered beneath the surface that stopped you from looking him in the eye and answering him with real sentences that lasted longer than a few disjointed words. There was definitely more to this and if Sebastian was good at something, it was getting to the bottom of a mystery.

Class was painfully slow. Lethifolds would have normally fascinated you, but today even Professor Hecat could not hold your attention, despite her captivating way of teaching. You didn’t sit with Sebastian like you normally did, instead you sat on the other side of the room, somewhere ahead of him and you felt like you could feel his stare on the back of your neck for the majority of the class. Your mouth ran dry when Hecat announced you’d be working in pairs, but before Sebastian could even stride across the room towards you, Leander snatched you up as his partner and instead of your usual shy mumbling to get yourself out of pairing with him and over to Sebastian, you gracefully accepted Leander’s partnership during the lesson.

“What’s with you and Sallow?” Leander asked as you both looked over the papers that Hecat had given you to identify a dark creature based on evidence alone. “What about me and Sebastian?” You asked, only half paying attention. “You’re normally attached at the hip, as it were.” He pointed out. “And um, it would appear you’re straying quite far recently.” “Yes, well Sebastian can survive without me now and again, I’m sure.” You replied rather airily, although you did not miss the odd look that Leander gave you. “I’m not so sure about that, from the looks he’s giving us right now, I’m afraid he might actually hurt me for pairing up with you.” He admitted and your eyes snapped up from your work to land on him. “What do you mean?” You asked, turning to peer over your shoulder at Sebastian. He sat on the other side of the room next to Ominis. His eyes met yours and for a moment, a look akin to jealousy bore into you, before turning back to Leander.

Defence Against The Dark Arts was finally over after nearly two hours and you felt both relief and worry pass through you at the sound of the bell in the tower ringing, both because it meant the tension would finally end, but concerned that you’d now be alone with Sebastian in Hogsmeade.

Sebastian left the room quickly and you took your time to clear up your things and leave the classroom, only for him to corner you outside of the door. “What happened to me getting my friends all to myself, hm?” He asked playfully and you were glad he wasn’t sulking. “Well I-.” “Partnering with Leander, really? Why not me?” He asked with false hurt in his voice. “Are you jealous, Sebastian?” “Something like that.” He turned serious. “Come with me, won’t you?” And you did, without question, follow him.

Sebastian led you silently off out of the castle, out of the grounds and towards a secluded spot near an old tree, away from prying ears. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” He sighed. “And as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I know what it is.” You looked up at him in surprise, feeling yourself heat uncomfortably at his words. “You do?” You spoke barely above a whisper, afraid to trip over your words. “Mhm, but I’ve not been entirely truthful myself lately either.” Sebastian said, leaning against the tree behind you both as he reached out to gently brush his fingers over the back of your hand. “And I’m sorry. I was too afraid to say anything because I wanted you to take me seriously and–. You know what, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He swiped a hand over his face before trying again.

“Do you know why I flirt with you?” Sebastian asked, turning to look you in the eyes. “Um, because flirting is your way of communicating without having to make deep conversation?” You squeaked it out, watching as Sebastian snorted and shook his head. “Ouch. You wound me.” He laughed, eyes softening. “No, sweetheart. I flirt with you because I have feelings for you.” “You– what?” You floundered, confused for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you studied his face for any hint of a joke or lie, but there was none. You were stunned into silence for a moment or two, until you drew in a breath to speak and you parted your lips, his name soft in your voice. “Sebastian, I didn’t realise, I thought– well I thought you might not…” You trailed off, struggling to get the words out. “Might not what?” “You might not feel the same way about me, Seb.” You almost whispered it out. “Come here, let me show you.” His fingers interlaced with yours, gently pulling you closer, his other hand guiding you to his lips.

Sebastian kissed you softly, his lips warm and gentle. His touch was intoxicating, addictive and you couldn’t get enough. The way he held you, pressing you against his body, his kisses hot and comforting and everything you needed. For so long your feelings had gone unspoken, unnoticed, but now they were out in the open, plain for Sebastian to see. Every doubt ebbing away at the edges as you gripped his robes with your fingers, deepening the kiss as he helped you into his lap, your legs on either side of his, your skirt rucked up above your knees as you let all of your feelings out silently, translating them into the quiet press of your lips, the touch of your fingers at the nape of his neck, the soft gasp that passed your lips when you felt his grip tighten.

Slowly, you parted, slightly dazed, eyes begging for more, but Sebastian smiled, pressing his thumb to your lips, gently wiping the evidence of your kiss away. “Let’s not keep feelings away from each other again, sweetheart.” He spoke softly, his touch gentle on your thigh. “I promise.” You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, his kisses soft against your lips. “Me too.” His words brushed against your skin. “Can we stay here for a moment longer?” You asked quietly. “We can stay for as long as you like, my sweet girl.” Sebastian whispered against your lips.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x reader fluff #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy imagine

770 notes · View notes

ilovehowyoufeel · 3 months

Text

I was right about my husband cheating

My husband cheated on me three months into our marriage. I gave him a second chance but three years later, I’ve become paranoid that he’s cheating on me again. Yesterday I found out I was right. He’s been messaging atleast ten girls on tinder, Instagram, and text. Maybe more but I couldn’t bear to look through his phone anymore when I saw him using the same pet names for one of the girls that he uses for me. I spent hours yesterday crying. I wanted to fix things but now…what’s there to fix?? I don’t want a relationship where I have to check his phone always second guessing if he’s still cheating. My friends are telling me to wait until I know what I want but I know right now less than 24 hours later that everything is changed and can’t be like how it was before Edit: most of the comments have been super helpful for me figuring out my plan of action and I’m grateful for that. Everyone commenting about my cats are being rude. Yes they are animals not children but if I leave him I might not be able to take them. The older two are 15 and 12 years old and I’ve had them since they were kittens. It’s the thing I’m most emotional about and I don’t need multiple people telling me it’s stupid that I love them

67 notes · View notes

yaasirambles · 4 months

Text

HeartRacer- Lee Jeno NCT

I wrote this a while ago for @jammingjaem and I decided to edit it and post it as a y/n piece!

Word Count: 2,687

Warnings: Mentions of illegal activities (street racing) and mentions of Consumption of Alcohol

Plot: In which you're Jeno's friend and he races with his motorcycle. He invites you out one night to come watch his race.

Racer!AU, SFW :) Cute lil thing

“Annndd done! Thank God. This essay was gonna be the death of me,” You say to yourself. You clicked the SUBMIT button and closed your laptop. You throw your head back on the chair. Closing your eyes and spinning slowly.

*clink*

You open one eye. Nothing around. You shrug your shoulders and close your eyes. Letting out a deep breath.

*clink*---*clink*--- *clink**clink**clink*

You jump out of the chair and pull up your window, leaning out and looking down, scanning around the dark yard. Then, you see the cause of your disturbance.

“UGH, YOU!” You shout in frustration

“Gee, nice to see you too.” Jeno rolls his eyes

“What do you want, Jeno?”

“I’m coming up. Move back”

“What? No, don’t you dare-” You back up. You hear him run, and his feet land on the wall as he climbs up the wall, the lattice screen on it helping him get a grip as he climbs, probably ruining the flowery vines on the way up. You saw his fingers at the edge of the window sill. He pulls himself up and jumps into your room, standing right in front of you. Barely an inch between you two. His face looked down on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart flutters a bit. You back up and clear your throat.

“I wanted to see if you’ll come to my race tonight. Please, please, please.”

“No, Jeno. I already told you. I just spent 4 hours on this essay, and my brain is burnt out.”

“Aha, see, I knew that might be the case. So I got you iced coffee, and it’s waiting for you. Chenle has it downstairs.” He looks at you with those stupid puppy eyes.

“Uggghhh. Fine. But I’m going in the car. Not on that death trap you call a motorcycle.”

“Fine, fine. As long as you’re coming. Oh, there’s also gonna be a kickback/party type thing after, and we’re going to that too. It’s Friday, so I know you can’t use school as an excuse not to go.”

“Ok, whatever. Well, I need to change then in that case.” you sigh, walking to your closet. You didn’t hear anything, so you turned around. Jeno is staring at you, leaning against your desk. Arms crossed. “Ummm”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“LEAVE. I’m not gonna change in front of you.”

“Why? Scared we’ll end up kissing or something.” He smirks

“AGGHH, LEE JENO!” You throw a shirt at him.

He throws his hands up in the air defensively. “I’m kiddiiing. I’ll be at the meet. Renjun and the other dreamies are waiting in the car downstairs. See ya there, my lucky girl.” He hops out of the window.

You roll your eyes and rummage through your closet. You were slightly panicking because you wanted to look good. Not for him. Pfft nevvveerrrr. Okay, maybe just a little….whatever. You decide on a pair of ripped black jeans, gray vans, a red crop top that says “CHERRY BOMB.” and a light wash jean jacket. You rush down the stairs and hop in the back seat of Renjun's car.

“Where’s my coffee?” you demand, holding your hand out.

“Right here, Ma’am.” Chenle hands you the cup, and you take a long drink from the straw.

“Ok, let’s go, kids,” you say. Renjun nods.

You end up on some long, empty streets. A crowd bustling in the middle. You thought it’d be smaller. It was a street race, after all. Kinda illegal… Not at all, somewhere you would be regularly. You walk with the dreamies, following them, trying to find your group. You’re a huge group, yet you always manage to lose each other. You spot your best friend and her Boyfriend, Jaehyun. They’re the couple of the group, and they've been together for two years. She’s in black jean shorts, fishnets, A black bralette, and boots. Jaehyun in black jeans, vans, a white t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, one arm around her, the other hanging onto his Jean jacket slung over his shoulder. They are a power couple. You think to yourself, I wonder if Jeno and I could be like that...nope, no, ma’am. No interest in that hooligan. Cute, stupid, reckless-

“Y/N. YOU’RE HERE, YESSS!” someone shouts, snapping you out of your head. Your best friend was running to you. “I’m so glad you came! How’d he convince you?” she pulled you in for a hug.

“Bribery of the highest degree,” you say and point to the iced coffee. “I can’t resist free coffee.”

“Of course,” she laughs. “Well, c’mon. Everyone is further down. We’re all at the start line, so we can see Jeno come in first.” she grabs your hand and leads you to the rest of your group. Everyone comes walking towards you to say Hi. Johnny picked you up and squeezed you. You go through the round of hugs and cheek kisses as greetings.

You look around the area. Motorcycles are placed in the middle of the street, behind the start/finish line. Their riders hanging around, talking to people. You spot Jeno talking to some girl. A really pretty girl… Your heart drops a little as you see him smile at her. It's probably his secret girlfriend or something. He catches you, and his eyes light up. He jogs towards you, and the girl follows. He looks so good in that stupid race jacket.

“Hey! Wow, you look… great,” he breathes out, staring you up and down. “Oh, um, this is my friend. She and Her girlfriend are race girls. You know, the one who waves the flags for us to go.”

“Ohh! That’s cool! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Y/N,” You say

“I’m Min! So nice to meet you.” She pulls you in for a hug. “It’s almost time to start! I’ll see you at the party?”

You nod, and she smiles and runs off to gather the riders at the start line.

“You’re gonna be in the front, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course. It’s where the rest are. so you know..” You respond, playing with the hem of your shirt awkwardly

“Awesome, cool, cool, cool. Um, well, I better get in position. Kiss my key?”

“Your key??” You raise an eyebrow at him

“Yea. You know, for good luck. Please?” he holds it out.

You roll your eyes and kiss the blade of the key. He smiles widely and runs off to his Motorcycle. Your heart flutters again…

You walk over to the front of the sidelines where your friends are. Jeno and another rider are the first, with four others behind them. Engines were revving up, and people were cheering for their chosen rider. You wave to him, and he waves back with a gloved hand. How the hell does he look so handsome with a helmet on?? You can’t even see his face, but you know he looks good. Ugh.

“Are we ready racers?” Min shouts

“On our count!” her girlfriend shouts.

“One!” Min raises her flags.

“Two.” Her girlfriend's flags go up as well.

“Three!!” the engines revving loudly.

“GO!” they both scream, waving the flags down and kneeling as the bikes fly past them. You run into the street along with many others to see the bikes take off. Some people chase after them. The crowd moves back to the sides as the racers come back to finish the first lap—two more to go. Jeno is the 3rd to come in this lap. You bite your lip, praying he wins. The last lap comes around, and you peer out, waiting impatiently. You see his bike leading, and he burns through the finish line. Your group screams in victory, and he starts doing donuts in the street as the other racers trail behind. You run to his bike, and he hops off, pulling off his helmet, hugging you, picking you up, and spinning you.

“See! I told you, my lucky charm.” He grins ear to ear. His eyes sparkled, and his chest rose and fell heavily.

“I would have been so mad if I came and missed out on sleep just to see you lose” You rolled your eyes. Your heart flutters secretly.

“Hey, you guys ready to head to the party?” YangYang says, walking up to you.

“Yea. We’ll see you there.” Jeno said, taking your hand. “C’mon.”

“Uhhhh. I’m going with Dreamies,” You said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhhhh no, you’re not. Ride with me. Please? I just won the race, and you saw I’m a safe driver, pleeeasssseee” He begged, again with stupid puppy eyes.

“Fine. If I die, I’m killing you.” You huff and let him lead you to his motorcycle.

He takes an extra helmet out and places it on your head. Smiling at you. He climbs on, and you get behind him. Your hands grip his shirt tightly. Too scared to wrap your arms around his waist. He revs the engine loudly, and you roll your eyes. What a show-off. Suddenly, the bike jerks forward, and your arms wrap tightly around him in fear of falling off. You can feel him laugh lightly.

“You did that on purpose, so I’d hug you like this,” you grumbled.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Prove it.” He chuckles. You roll your eyes again, and he takes off. You keep your eyes closed the entire time. Too afraid to open them. The sound of you guys whipping past cars and the loud wind was already terrifying. You didn’t want to see the flying lights just yet.

We arrived at a huge white house. It's seriously huge—pillars at the front porch. Magnificent garden. Different colored lights on the lawn, music blaring out the front door. You grabbed Jeno’s arm tightly, and he patted your hand.

“Is this too much?” He asked, concerned

“No. No, it’s okay. I should be fine.” You smiled at him.

He nodded, and you walked inside. He was being greeted by people who knew him, congratulating him on his win at the race.

“Ah, it was all thanks to my Lucky Charm here.” He says to the people, smiling at you.

You continued to walk through the house, trying to find your group.

“Who’s house is this?” you asked.

“Mins. Her parents left her everything since she has no siblings.”

“Oh. Is it just her alone here? It must be hard for her.”

“No, her girlfriend lives here. And she rents out the rooms to people for cheap. Mostly college students since the university is close by. Or for free if there’s a family or individuals who need help for a bit.”

“Her parents are probably super proud of her for that. Wow.” you sighed.

“Hey!! Glad you got here in one piece.” Min came running up to you, hugging you both. “There’s tons of food in the kitchen, so please help yourself with anything you want. There are drinks too. Pool in the back as well if you wanna swim.”

“OH, FOOD, thank god!” Jeno exclaimed. Throwing his head back. “Okay, we will be in the kitchen. Thanks, Min!” He started pulling you away, so you waved goodbye to her as she laughed.

Mark was in the kitchen as well. He was getting pizza and a drink.

“Hey, y/n. Do you want a drink?” He asks, “There's some jungle juice in here.”

“What’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like just a bunch of alcohol and juice or soda mixed. There's also Soju Lemonade.”

“Soju Lemonade, please,” you say, and he nods and fills up a red solo cup with the drink.

Jeno looks at you questioningly. “I didn’t know you drank.”

“Sometimes. Not often.” you sip on the lemonade. It was refreshing

“Hmm, hiding a wild side from me?”

“Find out,” you smirk. The alcohol was making you a little brave already.

“Sheesh. I might”

You walked out to the back, finding the rest of your group playing beer pong against each other. You watched and finished the rest of your drink by the time they were done with the game.

“Wanna play next round?” Johnny asks you.

“I’ve never played before..” you say shyly.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be your partner,” your best friend says. “We can play against Jaehyun and Jeno.”

“Oooooo, Boyfriends vs. girlfriends, I like that!” Johnny exclaims,

“Jeno is not my boyfr-” you start to say before someone hands a ping pong ball to you.

“Ladies first,” Jaehyun says, smirking at your best friend.

“You guys are going down,” She laughs.

The game was competitive. A small crowd gathered around to watch. Unfortunately, you did have to drink as many cups as you made them drink due to making the ball in the cup. It was down to the last cup on both sides—your turn. If you miss, you lose. You concentrated on the opening and threw the ball. It landed, and the boys hung their heads in defeat. The crowd cheered, and you and your best friend high-fived and hugged.

“I will request my prize later tonight,” She said to Jae, kissing him on the cheek.

“And what do you want for yours,” jeno asked, looking at you. “A kiss?”

“No. You can buy me coffee for a month,” you smiled. Chance at free coffee for a month. Imma take it. Hhehehe

“Fine,” He huffed. “Sure you don’t want a kiss with that?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

You walk back into the house. You realize how much you drank and start to feel a little tired. You sit down on the couch, and Jeno follows.

“You okay?” He asks.

“I think I had a bit too much. But I'm okay.”

Then Haechan comes up and slumps down next to you, trying to give you another drink. Jeno shoots him a glare and takes the drink.

“Don’t. No more for her tonight” He says, concern and sternness in his voice. Haechan nods and says sorry. Your heart fluttered again at Jeno’s words.

Jisung walks up to you.

“Do you need anything? A blanket? Food? Is it too loud? You can have your earbuds to listen to your playlist,” He says. What a caring boy.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, JiJi.” you smile at him.

You spend the rest of the time watching your friends, talking and Laughing. Enjoying being with them.

“How are you feeling? Ready to go home?”

Jeno asks, patting your head.

“Mm. Yea. I think I’m sobered up enough. Let’s go,” you say, standing up.

You say goodbye to everyone, and you hop back on his bike. Your arms around him comfortably. This time, you keep your eyes open. The lights look pretty as you speed by. You look up and see the stars and the moon moving with you. It’s mesmerizing. You arrive at your house. He holds his hand out to help you off. He takes off your helmet and walks you to the front door.

“Did you have fun?” He asks,

“I did, actually. A lot of fun. Thank you for inviting me.” You said,

“Thank you for coming. And supporting me. It means a lot to me.” He leans in and kisses your forehead.

Maybe it was the last bit of alcohol giving you courage, or maybe you were finally not overthinking things. But you kissed his lips without thinking. He froze a little. Surprised. Then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to his body, and the kiss deepened a little. His lips were soft. You pulled away. His face was full of shock.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Part of your prize for winning the race. And you know, good luck for your drive home,” you said, trying to seem casual while your heart was beating up and out of your throat.

“Ahh. Thank you. I hope I get those often.” He smiled.

“Maybe. You’ll have to find out. I’ll be expecting you with my coffee tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

you smiled and unlocked your front door. He doesn’t leave until you close it behind yourself. Maybe you’ll think less and just let things happen…

#nct #kpop #nct dream #nct imagines #fiction #nct scenarios #nct jeno #leejeno #lee jeno #nctau #nct fanfic #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #jeno #jeno lee #jeno au

68 notes · View notes

spenzitz · 1 year

Text

VALENTINE'S DAY (chuya edition)

chuya takes valentine's day very seriously. chuya x gn!reader, established relationship, chuya spoils reader,

a/n ~ my first time writing for chuya i'm so sorry... words ~ 1.8k second post for my valentine's day collection ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ )

chuya absolutely loves valentine's day. he loves having any excuse to spoil you rotten. by the time february 1st rolls around, he already has everything planned and dinner reserved at 3 restaurants in case anything were to go wrong.

unfortunately for him, his schedule as a mafia executive stops him from being able to spend the whole day with you. but don't worry, he'll more than makeup for it this evening.

9 am, february 14th, you find yourself strolling through port mafia hq, on your way to meet up with the black lizard for the day. seemingly by coincidence, you run into your lovely boyfriend, chuya. well... it's more that he runs into you.

"y/n! you're not even gonna say hello?" you hear his iconic, smug voice call out from behind you. you must have walked right past him. you turn around and scan your eyes through the crowd of nameless pawns until your eyes land on that stupid fucking hat. everyone moves aside as chuya makes his way to you, making you aware of all the eyes staring directly at you and him as he comes closer.

"hello," you say, giggling, unable to contain your wide smile. he comes much closer than he should need to and grabs your right hand, encasing it with both of his. "happy valentine's day, love." he says, barely audible, just loud enough for you to hear it.

chuya has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like you're the finest treasure in yokohama. you look away from him, still smiling uncontrollably, and start pulling on your clothes with your left hand. the butterflies he gives you, doing no favors to help your nerves.

most people have looked away by now, taking chuya's low tone as a sign of desired privacy. the exception, of course, is the black lizard who has all huddled together, everyone either cooing or scoffing at their boss's public display.

"yes, well, happy valentine's day, chuya..." you say, whispering. he finds it cute how bashful you are even after being with him for so long. you still have pride, he supposes.

"i've gotta run, and i think you do too..." he starts, nodding at your team, staring at the two of you. you turn to face them and feel the blood rush to your face upon seeing their mixed reactions, immediately looking back at chuya. "but i'll pick you up tonight at 6, how's that sound?" he asks, but it's not really a question, so you don't answer. you simply nod your head and look down at your hand as he removes one of his.

"see ya later, hun," he adds as he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses it. he's still smiling as he turns around and walks away, leaving you dizzy, and light-headed like you've worked a night shift. every moment with him feel like a fantasy.

a fantasy that is swiftly broken by the sound of tachihara's boyish voice. "you done swooning over mr. nakahara, or should we give you more time?" the thought of all your closest colleges watching that unfold makes you cringe. you roll your eyes and turn around, facing them all, just watching you.

"yeah, yeah, i'm ready. let's get on with it." today was going to be a long day.

you all get done for the day around 4:30. that leaves you with an hour and a half to get ready. around an hour of that time is spent on and off scrolling on your phone, and picking out what to wear. after much deliberation you go with red accents, his favorite. the last thirty minutes are spent scrambling to take a shower and get ready.

you suppose you look alright, you conclude as you look in the full-length mirror. you start fidgeting with your clothes when you hear your doorbell ring through your flat. you rush to put on your shoes and turn out the lights as you make your way to the door.

"hey!" you say, leaning on the door, cramming your shoe onto your foot. when you get your shoe on, you finally look at him, regaining your balance. he has on his nicest suit, and, no doubt, shoes. he's brought his hat to his chest as he looks at you with a smug grin and pure adoration.

"well, you clean up nice, don't ya, hun?" you chuckle as you shuffle out your door, locking it behind you. "and i suppose the same can be said for you, executive." you can't help but smile back at him.

putting his hat back on, he holds out his arm as you walk side by side. you instinctually loop your arm through his. it just feels like home. he likes how possessive you seem when you grip his arm as if it belongs to you. it does, he thinks. he belongs to you.

he walks you down to the street side where a car is waiting for you and him. a port mafia driver, no doubt. chuya strides ahead of you and opens the car door. "no bike?" you ask, somewhat relieved as you climb in the car.

chuya steps in behind you, "yeah, i know how nervous you get when i'm riding after dark." he says, laughing a little as he closes the car door. you smile and let out a sigh. in this moment, you are content.

the car starts moving, and he grabs your hand absentmindedly, playing with your fingers as he stares out the window, looking at nothing in particular. his nerves must finally be kicking in.

you notice his sudden fidgeting, but you know if you ask now, in front of the driver, he'll deny it. "so, where are we going?" you ask, squeezing his hand to grab his attention. he looks at you and just smirks. "you know what?" he starts, looking back out the window. "i think i'll let it be a surprise." he chuckles as you groan, impatiently wondering where he was taking you.

you don't have to wait long as it's barely a 5-minute drive to your destination. the driver pulls up to the front of a restaurant, and the valet opens chuya's door. once chuya is out, he ducks down and extends his hand to you, helping you out of the car.

when you get out of the car and see the entrance, it seems... familiar? you've definitely been here before, you think. chuya takes your hand and leads you through the glass doors held open by employees.

as chuya speaks to the hostess, you observe the beautiful chandeliers and baby grand piano accompanied by a live band playing smooth jazz. it hits you.

chuya is still holding your hand as he tugs you along, following the hostess to your table. "oh my god, chu!" you say, trying to keep your voice down through your excitement. "we had our first date here!"

"took you long enough," he says, glancing back at you and rolling his eyes with a smile.

the hostess leads you out to a table on the balcony, and chuya pulls out your chair for you. as you both sit down and look at the menu, you take in how serene it is outside. everyone seated on the balcony is speaking in a low voice, and you can still hear the soft music playing over idle chatter from inside.

dinner goes well as you both order steaks (chuya's favorite) and slowly nurse some red wine. he tells you about his day, annoyed by all his executive responsibilities. you tell him about how busy you were, and how the black lizard always left you tired and feeling like just another cog in the port mafia machine. a glorified pawn. you start to think how chuya is probably the biggest reason you stay anyway. although you admit, the pay is pretty good, but the work is hard.

your conversation pauses as the waiter comes up and asks if you two would like anything else. you expect chuya to say, "no, we're all done." as he always does. but tonight, chuya actually adds dessert to your order. a slice of cheesecake to share between the two of you. odd, you think. but, mayb chuya was left hungry from his meal, it wouldn't be the first time.

as you continue your conversation, droning on and on about your busy day, you notice chuya is fidgeting again, bouncing his leg under the table, thrumming his fingers. you know he's listening, but he's looking off into the background of the city lights. there's something bothering him. maybe something about work he can't tell you about?

you decide to keep talking, but you grab his hands with yours, grounding him. he looks up at you. now, he's definitely not listening to a word you say. just watching you with a dumb, probably tipsy smile. he can do it, he tells himself.

after a bit, the cheesecake comes, looking amazing. you suddenly feel you have all the room in the world for dessert as you quickly grab your fork and go to take a piece of it. however, before you can, chuya pulls the plate towards him, making you miss it entirely. you look up at him, confused and kinda annoyed.

"actually," he starts, smirking at you with a tint of pink on his face. "i thought we could have this to celebrate," he says.

"celebrate... what?" you ask, slightly scared you missed some big win of his. he sees the panic on your face and decides not to tease you. he stands up from his seat and places his hat on the table.

"well.... hopefully..." he murmurs as he stands beside the table, facing you. he slowly reaches into his pocket and takes out a little velvet box. your eyes widen as he gets on one knee and opens the box, looking up at you.

"our engagement?" he bites the inside of his lip, smiling at you. the whole balcony is silent as everyone watches you and him. your eyes dart around, from his face to the classy ring on display in front of you.

you honestly have no idea what to say. you sit there for a moment before getting out of your chair to kneel down with him. you bring both your hands up to cradle his face and lightly caress his cheek with your thumb. you nod your head, and the whole balcony erupts into quiet applause.

you pull him towards you and kiss him, long and hard. you can still taste the wine even on his lips, plain as day. you pull back only to drop your hands to his shoulders and embrace him. you hold him. he's not shaking anymore. in this moment, he's content.

"is that a yes?" he whispers, still cocky as ever.

you let him slip the ring onto your finger and sigh, gazing at it.

"i suppose it is."

god i want chuya to be my fiancé. fiancé chuya headcanons anyone? (-_-)ゞ

masterlist

requests are open!

#chuya x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you

361 notes · View notes

spidervee · 1 year

Text

a little blurb in which it’s tangerine’s birthday and you don’t know what to get for the man who seemingly has everything 🌻 18+ only; cursing, implied sex, theft (of my hearttttt)

You’re not normally this indecisive, are you? Hours spent rifling through used bookshops, staring into glass display cases filled with gold jewelry, running your fingers along soft silk ties and the crisp seams of designer suit jackets.

Yet, you’ve no bloody idea what to get Tangerine for his birthday. What do you buy a man who seemingly has everything—and enough money to buy the things he truly wants?

And then there’s the problem of Tangerine spoiling you rotten. Your own shite job doesn’t allow you to go in for the expensive first edition Oscar Wilde you truly want to get him, and though you know you could ask him for the money, it defeats the purpose of a gift and wouldn’t that make you a first class wanker, then?

Defeated, you watch, days later as Tangerine (grumpily) blows out the candles on the cake you and Lemon whipped up for him, looking pained as the two of you finish the closing notes of Happy Birthday, Tangerine allows you the indulgence of taking a few photos with him and his cake, though he insists the “mangy little arsehole” that is your rescue dog be in those photos with him.

Later that evening, you pull a small gift bag from your bedside table and shove it into Tangerine’s hands as he returns from showering. He blinks at you, the corners of his lips twitching up into a sardonic grin.

“Thought I told you no presents, love.” He gives you a wolfish wink, running a hand through his damp curls, watching you watch as water droplets roll down his bare chest. “Do I have to fuckin’ remind you to be good?”

“Just open it.” You try for deadpan, but your voice hitches in your throat and Tangerine, bless him, can tell you’re nervous so he relents and begins to pull away at the tissue paper.

“Socks,” he says quietly, a little confused as he pulls from the bag a rather plain-looking pair of wooly cabin socks. “I love them, darling.”

“I know they’re kind of…silly,” you sigh, suddenly feeling like a right twat—this was stupid, the whole idea, but Lemon had said he’d be thrilled. “But I stole them.”

“You fuckin’ what?” Tangerine nearly chokes on his words, eyes wide as he turns the socks over in his hand, wonder on his face and his back just a little bit straighter, “You cheeky little thief. I fuckin’ love them. I fuckin’ love you, naughty little minx.”

And sure, he tosses the socks aside so they land with his towel on the floor, but his sculpted body falling over yours, his breath warm on your face, and his hands exploring between your legs more than makes up for it.

“Happy Birthday, dear heart,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose.

He groans in response, bright blue eyes darkening. “I’ve got one more present yet, hm?”

#bullet train tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine fluff #tangerine x reader fluff

766 notes · View notes

morbific-or-felicific · 4 months

Text

-AGNOSTHESIA PART 3 Featuring Scaramouche’s

Part 1 Part2

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 2.6k~

Description: After you almost fail your midterm Scaramouche decides to punish you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

Join The Tag List

You were in the library, sitting across the table from your boyfriend. You could feel his eyes on you while you read through the notes he had helped you make. The two of you had a midterm in half an hour, and you were hoping to at least get a seventy five…however out of reach that may be.

“You know, if you don’t know the material by now, you aren’t going to magically learn it in the next thirty minutes.”

You let out a sigh and met your boyfriend's gaze.

“Are you going to let me stop studying then?”

“Do you really think you can afford to stop? You do know how stupid you are, right?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and returned your focus to your notes.

As you studied, Scaramouche lazily scrolled through his phone, texting and watching videos. It frustrated you to no end to know that, despite his lack of effort, he would no doubt earn the highest mark in the class. Meanwhile, you* were working as hard as you possibly could while still running the risk of failing, with Scaramouche’s ominous threat of ‘punishment’ hanging over your head.

You barely noticed when Scaramouche started gathering his things to head to class, having to have him snap his fingers in front of your face to break your focus. Finally, you gathered your notes, and the two of you made your way to class.

~ ♡ ~

Although you swore you had only spent twenty minutes writing the test, you supposed the full hour and a half must have passed since everyone who was still writing was instructed to hand in their tests. You had managed to finish just in time, but you weren’t feeling very good about how you had done.

You made your way out of the classroom to where your boyfriend had been waiting for you, laying across a few chairs he had somehow come into possession of. As you got closer to him, he looked up from his phone and stood up. He was happy to see you but also rather concerned about how upset you looked.

“How did it go?”

He spoke with uncharacteristic softness and concern.

“I don’t think it went very well…”

You felt rather hopeless about the whole situation and had already resigned yourself to failure.

“Come on, with how hard you’ve worked? I’m sure that you did just fine.”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead stare dejectedly at the floor. Scaramouche offered a soft smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get food and watch a movie.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the proposal.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Come on then.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

~ ♡ ~

It had been exactly nineteen days since you had taken your midterm, and you had finally been emailed the results. You sat at your computer staring at the unopened email. You knew that you had probably failed, but you didn’t want to know that you had actually failed. You took a deep breath, did your best to relax your body, and opened the email. You scanned through the words and eventually found your results. You had passed. You swore you had never felt so relieved in your life. Granted, you had only gotten a 58, but that was more than enough for you. You wiped away a few tears of relief and flopped back in your chair. You took out your phone and called your boyfriend.

“Hello-”

“I passed.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

“Well that’s no surprise. You have me as your tutor, afterall.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, pride was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, baby.”

You heard Scaramouche let out a little puff of air from his nose.

“Wanna come over so we can celebrate?”

“I guess I can.”

“Did you pass?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well congratulations, you are the reason everyone hates being marked on a curve.”

You actually heard your boyfriend laugh at that.

“It’s not my fault you’re all inept.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll bring food.”

“See you at 5:00?”

“Alright, love you.”

And with that, he hung up. You sighed and sent an “I love you too” text.

You spent the rest of your day doing some chores and some reading, and eventually, Scaramouche was knocking on your door. He brought an obscene amount of sushi, and somehow, the two of you managed to eat all of it.

It was a nice evening. Scaramouche was in a surprisingly good mood(he wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite pleased that you had managed to pass your midterm), and there wasn’t anything left to stress about.

The two of you sat on your couch, scrolling through streaming services. You were nestled under your boyfriend’s arm as he navigated to netflix and started scrolling through movies.

“So what movie do you want to watch?”

“Pride and-”

“No.”

“But you said I could pick!”

“Only if you pick a good movie.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

“Too bad. I’m picking now.”

You sighed but didn’t really protest. You usually ended up liking whatever movies he chose anyway. This time, however, you had gotten somewhat bored about halfway through “Inception” and decided to grab your phone to scroll through whatever app seemed interesting.

“You know, if you’re bored, we can do something else.”

The prospect of doing something different admittedly interested you, so you decided to go along with it.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

A small smile made its way onto Scaramouche’s face as he stood up, turning off the tv and reaching out his hand to you. You took it and followed him to your bedroom. You certainly weren’t going to complain if he wanted to reward you for passing. As you stood at the end of your bed, he stood away from you, leaning against the now closed door.

“Take off your clothes.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed by how blunt he was but did as you were told anyway. You began to pull your shirt over your head when he stopped you.

“No. Slowly.”

You looked away from him, even more embarrassed now, and started slowly sliding your hands up your sides, bunching up your shirt as you brought it farther up your body. You pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the ground beside you. Next, you undid the button on your pants and slid the zipper down, but before you could begin to slide them down your legs, you were stopped once again by yet another command.

“Turn around.”

You silently obeyed and turned to face away from him as you slid your pants off, bending at the waist, knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. When you finally kicked off your pants, you turned back around to face Scaramouche. He had a little smirk resting on his face, and you could now see a bulge beginning to make itself known in his pants. Despite the number of times the two of you had fucked, you were still embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him.

“Why are you stopping?”

Your blush darkened as you reached behind you to undo your bra, letting it fall to the ground and then turning around once again to slide off your panties. Scaramouche bit his lip as he watched you. Fuck, you were so good for him. It’s too bad he had to punish you for almost failing your midterm, not that you were aware of that yet.

You turned around once again to face your boyfriend, and he began to move towards your closet, where he kept a few things for situations such as these. You were a little confused as to why he would want to use any of those things when he was rewarding you, but you didn’t question him. You fully trusted Scaramouche and knew he would never hurt you… well, unless you wanted him to. You continued not to question him when he brought out a coil of rope and told you to get on your hands and knees on the bed.

Although, you were still confused. He knows that you like being able to touch him, so why would he be using rope? You finally decided to question his actions when he had finished tying you up, a bad choice on your part. He had just finished the last knot when you piped up.

“Uh, why are you tying me up?”

“Because stupid little whores don’t get to touch me.”

Okay, now you were very confused.

“But I thought-”

“Dumb girls who almost fail their exams don’t get rewarded.”

His words would hurt if you didn’t know how proud of you he was.

“But-”

You felt his hand land hard and heavy on your ass, and your words morphed into a little shout of pain. You tried to wiggle away from him, but with your calves tied to your thighs and your hands tied behind your back, you couldn’t move an inch. You felt his hand land again on the other side of your ass as he reiterated his point.

“Don’t you think brainless sluts should get punished? I’m sure it’ll help get some sense into that empty head of yours.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. You heard him step away, and with you unable to move, you had no idea what was coming next. As his footsteps came closer again, you felt a finger run along your slit.

“You’re so wet already, pathetic.”

Your cheeks were burning. As he began to play with your clit, you started to let out little moans and whines. Fuck, he was good at that. You could hear how wet you were, his fingers starting to push in and out of you rhythmically. If he kept going, you were going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt so good. It felt like he was turning off your brain. All you wanted was for him to make you cum, and maybe for his cock to be inside of you. That would be nice too.

“Fuck, master, I’m going to cum!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his fingers had been removed from you.

“No! Please! I need it! Please, let me cum!”

You were so close. You needed it so bad. Scaramouche knew that, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Stupid girls don’t get to cum.

He teased you like this for at least half an hour, although it felt like an eternity. He kept bringing you to the edge just to steal away your end with a derisive laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?”

You let out a particularly pathetic whine.

“‘Oh, master, please let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, please!’. You’d be worthless if you didn’t feel so good on my cock.”

Warm tears slid down your face, but you could feel yourself get wetter at his words. Scaramouche walked around the bed so he could take your face in his hands.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you cry.”

More tears ran down your face, despite the warmth you felt from his words.

“I should just keep you tied up so you can cry for me and be a good little fleshlight. That sounds nice, right, slut?”

You nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He laughed and walked back behind you. You tried to wiggle away, but you were still helplessly at his mercy.

You heard the clicking sounds of him taking off his belt, and you felt adrenaline shoot through your body. Finally, you were going to feel his cock inside of you.

However, your hopes were quickly dashed when you felt the harsh sting of a belt hit your ass. You screamed. Scaramouche laughed.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?”

You cried louder now, the sound only serving to make your boyfriend more turned on. Once again, you felt his belt come into harsh contact with your ass.

“Count.”

You let out a little shout of pain as another hit came.

“One!”

Your counting was followed by a whimper of pain and a light laugh from Scaramouche. Then the belt came down again.

“Two!”

You whimpered in pain, and your fists clenched behind your back, your nails digging into your palms. You didn’t know how long this would continue for, but you were ready to take whatever he chose to give you, as you always did.

Three more hits came from his belt, each one followed by a shot of pain and a number.

“Five!”

You readied yourself for another hit, but it never came. You jumped when you felt him gently rest his hand between your shoulders, slowly tracing his way down to your waist. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and you could hear him stepping away. He came to sit on the bed in front of you. He rested a hand on your cheek once again and leaned into you.

“Do you want to cum? Hmm?”

He smiled at you mockingly. You nodded emphatically.

“Please! I need to cum, master! Need it so bad!”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how pathetic you sounded.

“Well, if you want it so bad, then okay. I’ll make you cum, sweetheart.”

Fuck. If he’s saying yes, there has to be a catch… unless… was he done punishing you? You quickly got your answer when your boyfriend stood and walked back to where you couldn’t see him.

You heard him fiddling with something, and after a few moments, you felt something cold and plastic run up your slit a few times, collecting your wetness before finally pushing inside of you.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the whine that you let out when the dildo started vibrating intensely. You started whining and moaning, not being prepared for the pleasure. Scaramouche walked in front of you once again, this time with a ballgag in hand. He pushed it inside of your mouth and tied it behind your head.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you could hear your boyfriend walk out of the room and close the door, his light laughter trailing behind him. You tried to call out to your boyfriend, but everything came out garbled between broken moans. He wouldn’t leave you tied up for too long… right?

~ ♡ ~

You had no idea how long you had been left tied up like this, and you had lost count of how many times you had come. All that you knew was that you were exhausted. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door clicked open. He was back. Without saying a word, he turned off the vibrations and gently pulled out the toy. He walked around to sit in front of you and untied the gag, removing it from your mouth.

“Did you learn your lesson, princess?”

He smiled as if he were talking to a child. You nodded your head.

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”

He stroked his thumb on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. He started to untie you, going through all the knots until you were finally free. You stretched your sore limbs as Scaramouche left the room in search of a warm cloth.

Eventually, he reappeared with a warm cloth and an extra blanket. He cleaned you up and wrapped you in the soft blanket before carrying you back to the couch so the two of you could finish the movie.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#personally i think this is fantastic but that’s just me #i hope you all like the food i’m sorry it took me so long #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

193 notes · View notes