#the Here and Now with him. like it does make this all feel a little bit Not Worth It. because it's betting on an uncertainty.
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Young Love and Old Money
Max Verstappen x Stroll!Reader
Summary: Max quickly learns that life with the paddock’s favorite nepo baby as his girlfriend is never boring
You take a deep breath as the town car pulls up to the grand arched doorway of your family’s Montreal estate. Beside you, Max squeezes your hand gently.
“Don’t worry, schatje,” he says, “Your father will love me.”
You smile nervously. “I hope so. But you know how protective he can be.”
Max grins. “I can handle it.”
The driver opens the door and you step out into the crisp night air, your heels clicking on the cobblestone. Max follows, straightening his suit jacket.
Inside, the foyer glitters with crystal chandeliers. A maid hurries to take your coats. As she leads you to the formal dining room, your heart pounds.
This dinner needs to go perfectly.
Your father and Lance are already seated at the long mahogany table, chatting. They look up as you enter and break into smiles.
“Y/N!” Your father exclaims warmly, standing to embrace you. “So wonderful to see you, mon minou.”
You hug him tightly back. “You too, Papa.”
Lance grins as he hugs you next. “Hey sis. Long time no see.”
You playfully mess up his hair. “Too long, little bro.”
Finally, you turn to Max, who is waiting patiently. “Papa, Lance, you already know my boyfriend, Max.”
Max steps forward confidently and shakes their hands. “Mr. Stroll, Lance, it’s an honor to finally meet you both properly.”
Your father looks Max up and down appraisingly. “The honor is mine, Max. Please, call me Lawrence.”
You let out a small sigh of relief as you all take your seats. So far, so good.
The first course is brought out — a decadent lobster bisque. You all sip appreciatively.
“Delicious,” Max compliments.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” your father says graciously. “Now, tell me Max, how is your season going so far?”
You tense slightly. Here it comes, the interrogation.
But Max just smiles. “It’s been excellent. A few tough races, but I’m leading the championship at the moment. The car has great pace and I think we have a shot at the title again this year.”
Lance jumps in enthusiastically. “I saw your battle with Charles last race when I was rewatching the tape. Epic stuff, man!”
“Thanks, mate,” Max chuckles. “It was a fun one for sure.”
You exhale in relief. Max is charming them perfectly.
The conversation flows easily through the next few courses. You can’t help but gaze admiringly at Max as he seamlessly meshes with your family. He has a natural confidence and charisma that puts everyone at ease.
Over dessert, your father says warmly, “Max, I can see why my Y/N cares for you. You’re clearly an exceptional young man, both on and off the track.”
Max smiles, touched. “Thank you, sir. Y/N is very special to me.” He squeezes your hand.
You beam, your heart swelling. This is going even better than you hoped.
You finish up the chocolate mousse and set down your spoon contentedly. “That was delicious. This dinner has been wonderful, thank you Papa.”
“Of course,” your father says fondly. “I’m so glad you both could make it out here from Monaco.”
“Thank you for having me,” Max adds.
“Anytime,” Lawrence smiles.
You glance around the table happily. Your boyfriend fits right in with your family. Everything feels so natural and perfect.
“Daddy, could you please pass the sugar?” You ask amiably.
Immediately, both Max and your father’s hands reach for the small pot of sugar in the center of the table. They both freeze awkwardly for a second, before Lawrence pulls his hand back slowly.
You feel your stomach drop as you see the dawning realization cross your father’s face.
Oh no.
This is bad.
Lawrence’s smile becomes forced. “So tell me Max, what exactly does my daughter call you?”
Max’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Um, just Max usually.”
You sink down in your chair, wincing.
Your father lets out a hollow laugh. “Is that so? Because it didn’t sound like that to me.”
A leaden silence descends on the table. Lance glances between you all, smothering a smirk.
Max clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh, that’s just a casual nickname really ...”
Lawrence raises an eyebrow. “A casual nickname you say? For my daughter to call her boyfriend in front of her family?”
You close your eyes, willing yourself to vanish. This is excruciatingly embarrassing.
“Dad, come on,” Lance snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “They’re young, it’s whatever.”
“No Lance, it’s not whatever,” your father snaps, an edge in his voice now. “I would like Max to explain himself here.”
Max holds up his hands placatingly. “Sir, I apologize if we’ve made you uncomfortable. But I assure you our relationship is completely respectful.”
You nod quickly. “Papa, he’s right. Can we please just move on?”
But Lawrence is unyielding. “I will not have anyone take liberties with my daughter, do you understand me, young man?”
Max looks properly chastened. “Yes sir, of course. I meant no offense.”
Your father bristles as he glares between you. The awkward tension hovers for several painful moments.
Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Papa, stop!” You blurt out. “I’m an adult now. You can’t control what I choose to do with my boyfriend.”
Lawrence looks stunned, then hurt. “Y/N, I’m just looking out for you ...”
“I know, but I don’t need protecting from Max. He’s wonderful and he makes me so happy. Can’t you let me make my own choices?”
Your father’s expression softens. He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just … so hard for me to think of you growing up.”
You reach over and squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’ll always be your little girl.”
Lawrence smiles tenderly at you, then turns to Max. “Forgive my outburst, son. I can see how much you care for each other.”
Max looks relieved. “Of course, sir. I understand completely.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Crisis averted.
Your father stands, raising his glass. “To young love. May you always treat my daughter with the honor and respect she deserves.”
“I will, sir,” Max promises earnestly.
You all clink glasses, the tension dissolving. Conversation resumes, lighter and more relaxed now.
Later, as Max helps you on with your coat, your father claps him warmly on the back. “Thank you for making my daughter so happy. You’ll always be welcome in our home.”
Max’s face lights up. “Thank you, sir. That means the world.”
Lawrence winks. “I was young once too, you know. Just maybe keep the nicknames to yourselves around me.”
You all laugh together. Your heart swells with joy. Despite the awkward moments, the evening couldn’t have gone better.
As the chauffeur drives off into the night, you snuggle contentedly into Max’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so wonderful tonight,” you whisper.
He kisses your hair. “Of course, liefje. I would do it all over again for you.”
***
The sleek red Ferrari glints under the showroom lights as you and Max admire your reflection in the gleaming curves.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Max grins, running his hand along the hood. “I can’t wait to take her out on the open road.”
You smile at his childlike enthusiasm. “She certainly is gorgeous. You have great taste, babe.”
The salesman steps forward eagerly. “Yes, the Ferrari SF90 Stradale is our newest supercar model. Twin-turbo V8, 720 horsepower. She’ll do 0 to 60 in under three seconds.”
Max’s eyes light up. “Incredible. I think I’m in love already.”
You laugh. “Should I be jealous?”
“Never,” Max winks, pulling you in for a quick kiss.
The salesman smiles indulgently. “Why don’t we step into my office to finalize the paperwork?”
“Sounds good,” Max agrees, lacing his fingers through yours as you follow the salesman.
In the sleek minimalist office, you both take a seat across from the desk as the salesman pulls up Max’s file.
“Excellent. Everything looks in order, Mr. Verstappen,” he says briskly. “If you just sign here and here, we’ll get you all set up.”
Max eagerly scrawls his signature on the documents. You watch in amusement — he reminds you of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Alright, congratulations!” The salesman stands and shakes Max’s hand. “The SF90 is all yours. We’ll have her prepped and ready for you within the hour.”
“Amazing, thanks so much,” Max grins, standing up.
You’re about to follow him out when a flash of black catches your eye. Through the office window, you spot a brand new Ferrari model on display in the showroom.
“Ooh what’s that one?” You ask curiously, gazing at the aggressive curves and styling.
The salesman glances over. “The new 812 Competizione A. It is a limited edition 599-unit production run. Just unveiled last month.”
You feel a thrill run through you as you take in the stunning hypercar. “It’s incredible. I have to have it.”
Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You want that one too?”
You turn to the salesman decisively. “I’ll take it. My family has bought from Ferrari for years, my name should be in your client database.”
“Of course, Miss Stroll,” the salesman nods, typing rapidly into his computer. “I see you right here. Let’s start the paperwork and we’ll get the car ordered for you right away.”
You grab your purse, immediately fishing out your black Centurion Card. “Just bill it to my usual card, thanks,” you say breezily, handing it over.
You can feel Max’s stunned gaze on you but you keep your focus on the salesman, reviewing the spec sheet and customization options.
This new Ferrari is just too sexy to resist.
Within minutes, the paperwork is signed and you’ve secured the very first 812 Competizione A destined to stay in Monaco. You grin excitedly — you can’t wait to get your hands on it.
“Thank you so much, just have it delivered to my place in the Fontvieille district when it’s ready,” you tell the appreciative salesman before turning to leave.
You lace your fingers through Max’s, still smiling about your new spontaneously purchased hypercar. “Ready to take your new baby out for a drive?”
Max is quiet as you walk back to the showroom, seemingly lost in thought. He stays silent as the gleaming red SF90 Stradale is pulled around, not even cracking a smile when the salesman hands over the keys with a flourish.
It’s not until you’ve been driving for several minutes, weaving along the coastal roads overlooking the Mediterranean, that Max finally speaks.
“That was 2.13 million euros,” he states flatly. “And you just ... bought it. Without a second thought.”
You glance over, taking in the unreadable expression on his face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a beautiful model. Why not just get it?” You say casually.
Max shakes his head slowly. “I just can’t wrap my head around having that kind of money. That you can just drop over two million without thinking twice.”
You shift slightly, feeling defensive. “I’m sorry, does it make you uncomfortable? I know I grew up with a very different lifestyle ...”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Max interrupts. He pauses, gazing out at the sparkling blue sea pensively.
“It’s just … I’m not used to being with someone who’s on my level. Financially, I mean. All my previous girlfriends, I always had to take care of everything. Pay for dinner, vacations, whatever they needed.”
He turns to look at you. “But you’re different. You have as much money as me, more even. You can buy a hypercar on a whim, no problem. It’s new territory.”
You chew your lip. “I don’t want you to feel emasculated or anything. If you want to pay or take care of things ...”
Max shakes his head again, more firmly this time. “That’s just it — I don’t. I like that you’re independent. It’s really ...”
He pauses, blushing slightly. “Sexy. That’s the word. It’s sexy that you have your own money and success. I’m not used to feeling that in a relationship before.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. That was not the reaction you were expecting.
Max glances at you almost shyly. “Is that weird to say? I just mean, it’s different than what I’m used to, but in a good way. Like we’re equals, you know?”
Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “No, not weird at all. I get what you mean.” You reach over and squeeze his hand. “This is new territory for me too. But I like discovering it together.”
Max’s face lights up with that radiant smile that melts your heart. “Me too, liefje.”
Your conversation flows easily as you cruise along the seaside, the setting sun glittering on the water. And seeing the look in his eyes when he glances at you now — equal parts love and admiration — you realize just how right it feels.
Being with someone who can match you in every way is new and different for both of you. But you have a feeling it’s the start of something beautiful.
***
The energy buzzing around the paddock is electric as you walk hand-in-hand with Max towards the Red Bull motorhome. Fans line the barriers, cheering and shouting his name. Max smiles and waves, slowing to sign autographs and snap selfies with outstretched phones.
You hang back politely as he interacts with his adoring public. You know the drill by now, having attended countless races with your dad and brother over the years. Blend into the background and let the drivers have their moment.
“Max! Can we get an autograph?” A young girl calls out eagerly, brandishing a cap and marker pen.
“Of course!” Max says graciously, letting go of your hand to walk over.
You hang back contentedly, happy to let him have his moment with his supporters. You catch snippets of their supportive comments as Max signs item after item, posing for selfies in between.
“You’re the greatest, Max!”
“That last win was epic. Get that fourth title this year!”
“We love you so much!”
You smile to yourself. Seeing how much joy Max brings to these fans makes your heart swell with pride and affection.
As you stand waiting patiently, you overhear the girl lean over to her friend and not-so-subtly whisper, “Who’s the chick with Max? She looks kinda stuck up if you ask me.”
Your smile freezes. You see the girl jerk her head rudely in your direction, glaring at you.
“I know right,” her friend agrees in a carrying whisper. “Another gold-digger who managed to sink her claws into a rich man too blind to see what she’s doing.”
You clench your jaw, stung by their spiteful words. Who do they think they are, judging you when they don’t even know you?
Max is still occupied with the other fans, oblivious. You debate whether to just ignore the rude girls. But their jealous gossiping has sparked your defiance. Why should you stay silent?
Squaring your shoulders, you turn and level a steady gaze at them. “For your information, I don’t need a rich man. I am a rich man,” you state coldly.
Their eyes widen in shock, mouths dropping open stupidly. Clearly they weren’t expecting you to confront them.
Before they can react, Max is suddenly beside you, slipping his arm around your waist.
“Whoa, everything okay here?” His gaze darts between you and the embarrassed fans.
You take a breath, ready to explain it away. But Max doesn’t give you the chance.
“You know, if anything, I’m the one who got my claws hooked into her,” he announces, lips curving into a smirk.
Now it’s your turn to gape at him in surprise. The nasty fans look completely bewildered.
“That’s right ladies, I’m just a kept man,” Max continues lightly. “Her arm candy. A sugar baby, if you will.”
He pretends to examine his nails arrogantly and you have to stifle a shocked laugh. Is he actually joking about being your boy toy right now?
Max leans in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, dating a Stroll has done wonders for my bank account. I mean have you seen the new and improved garage decor?”
You smother your grin behind your hand as he prattles on, winking at you.
“So don’t worry about Y/N here, she can buy and sell me twice over.” Max presses a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Isn’t that right, schatje?”
Finally you can’t hold back your laughter anymore. Max joins in and the fans stare, unsure how to react.
“Come on sugar mama, we’ve got a race to win,” Max says breezily, steering you away.
Once safely inside the garage, you turn to him incredulously. “What was that all about?”
Max shrugs, his expression sobering. “I heard what they said. Just wanted to shut them up and defend my girl.”
Your heart melts. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him soundly. “My hero. Thank you.”
Max still looks bothered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with stupid gossip. Especially not lies about you using me.”
You slip your arms around his neck persuasively. “It usually doesn’t get to me. Let the jealous haters talk. We know the truth.”
He sighs, gently moving a strand of hair from your face. “I just hate anyone thinking badly of you. You deserve the world.”
Touched by his sincerity, you pull him down into a soft kiss. When you finally draw apart, an idea pops into your head.
“Although ...” you begin thoughtfully, “Maybe we should lean into it.”
Max looks confused. “What do you mean?”
You grin mischievously. “You’re my hot trophy boyfriend. I need to show you off and treat you right.”
Comprehension dawns on Max’s face and he barks out a laugh. “Well I won’t say no to being spoiled.”
He winks roguishly and you dissolve into giggles. The stupid gossipers don’t know anything. You and Max are just perfect together.
For the rest of the weekend, you shamelessly flaunt your new role as Max’s “sugar mommy.” At every opportunity, you shower him with over-the-top gifts and PDA in front of the other drivers and team members.
Designer watches, bouquets of flowers, bottles of decadent gin for his favorite drink — you deliver them all publicly to Max along with cooed compliments and kisses. You can see the amusement hidden behind his mock protests at being “objectified.”
The other drivers are endlessly entertained. Daniel teases Max about latching onto an heiress, while Charles jokingly asks if you have a sister he can date.
By the time Max wins on Sunday, cementing his spot at the top of the championship, the silly gossip from earlier in the weekend is long forgotten.
As you snuggle together on the flight home from the race, you turn to Max curiously. “So, how does it feel being a kept man?”
He pretends to consider it deeply. “Hmm, tough to say. The gifts and pampering were nice ...”
You swat his chest indignantly and he laughs.
“Kidding, kidding,” he assures, pulling you tighter against him. “Obviously I love you for you, not your money, schatje.”
His voice softens. “Thank you for this weekend. I know the gossip bothered you, even if you didn’t show it. I’m lucky to have you by my side.”
You tilt your face up to meet his lips, kissing him tenderly. No more words are needed. Being together says it all.
***
The roar of the crowd surrounds you as you step onto the red carpet on Max’s arm, cameras flashing wildly. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and leans in close.
“You ready for this, liefje?”
You take a deep breath and nod, pasting on a smile. “Ready.”
This is your big formal debut — attending your first FIA Prize Giving Ceremony as Max’s girlfriend. And with him just winning his fourth World Championship, all eyes are sure to be on you both tonight.
You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you begin the walk down the carpet, waving politely to the fans shouting Max’s name. He looks completely at ease, his fourth-straight title boosting his confidence even higher.
You, on the other hand, feel like you might trip over your gown at any moment under the blinding spotlights. But you keep your chin high, channeling the poise that’s been drilled into you since girlhood.
Perks of growing up in high society — you know how to fake it on a red carpet.
About halfway down, an interviewer steps forward, microphone in hand. “Max Verstappen! Congratulations on your fourth championship. How are you feeling tonight?”
Max smiles easily. “Thank you, it feels amazing. It was a great battle all season long so this one feels very satisfying.”
The reporter nods, then turns her attention to you. “And who is this lovely lady accompanying you tonight?”
“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Max introduces you proudly.
“Y/N, you look absolutely stunning tonight, if you don’t mind me saying,” the interviewer gushes. “That gown is exquisite!”
You relax slightly, warming to her friendly tone. “Thank you so much!” You smile.
“In fact, both of your outfits are fabulous,” she continues. “Who are you wearing tonight?”
Max’s face lights up. He squeezes your hand excitedly. “Funny you should ask — we’re both wearing custom Y/N Stroll originals!”
You have to resist the urge to giggle at the unconcealed pride in his voice.
The interviewer’s eyes widen. “No way, you designed these yourselves?”
You nod, enjoying her reaction. “I did, yeah. Fashion design is a bit of a hobby of mine.”
“A hobby she’s amazing at,” Max interjects adoringly. “She could have her own luxury brand if she wanted. I feel so honored to wear her work.”
You blush at his high praise. “Oh Max, stop. But thank you, that’s so sweet.”
The reporter seems thrilled at this exclusive scoop. “Incredible! It looks like you have some serious talent, Y/N. Any plans to pursue that more seriously?”
You hesitate briefly. Your father has been gently nudging you to take over his fashion business when he retires. But that’s still in the future ...
You decide to give a lighthearted answer. “We’ll see! Fashion does run in my family so it’s always a possibility.” You finish with a coy smile.
“How wonderful! We’ll be keeping an eye out for Y/N Stroll designs in the future then,” the reporter concludes enthusiastically.
You grin and wave as she lets you continue down the carpet, Max’s arm securely around your waist.
“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He murmurs in your ear.
“Not at all,” you admit. “I might get used to this whole red carpet thing after all.”
Max winks. “Stick with me and you’ll be a pro in no time.”
Your heart flutters happily. Being by his side just feels so right.
Inside the lavish venue, you’re shown to your table near the front with the other top drivers and their partners. Max pulls out your chair politely before sitting down beside you.
You chat with the other girls at the table, fellow WAGs you’ve gotten to know over the course of the season. They gush over the dress you designed, making you promise to create something for them too.
Soon, the lights dim and the ceremony begins. You clap loudly as Max wins Driver of the Year, bursting with pride for your champion.
Finally, the moment comes for the big one. The announcer begins the buildup, recapping the season’s epic title battle between Max and his closest rival.
"… And in the end, one man emerged victorious for the fourth time in his young but dazzling career,” the announcer concludes. “Formula 1 World Driver’s Champion ... Max Verstappen!”
The room explodes into thunderous applause as Max squeezes your hand and makes his way up to the stage, beaming. You watch with tears in your eyes as he accepts the trophy, looking so handsome and accomplished.
After the ceremony finishes, Max makes his way back to you, trophy in hand. You throw your arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!”
He hugs you tight, then pulls back, his expression earnest. “I couldn’t have done it without your support this season. Having you by my side means everything to me.”
Your heart swells and you kiss him tenderly. “You deserve this so much. And nothing makes me happier than being with you.”
Max’s eyes shine. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Max.”
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i know who you are | 8. the return
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: You help Joel recover from his injuries and you finally confront your feelings for him.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mutual pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, descriptions of wounds/injuries, some smutty situations but nothing very explicit, dare I say fluff?
WC: 8.2K
Series Masterlist
"Joel, wake up."
He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.
"C'mon. You gotta get up."
"Five more minutes," he mumbled.
"Joel," you tried again, your voice sounding so far away. Why did you sound so far away? "Joel, please wake up. I need you."
You needed him. Okay. For you, he would wake up.
His eyelids fluttered.
"Joel?"
Your voice didn't sound so far away now.
"Joel? Can you hear me?"
Fuck, his head hurt. His side hurt. Everything fucking hurt.
Then he remembered.
He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the bright light until he focused on you. You.
You were so pretty. So, so pretty, standing next to his bed with that little worried crease between your eyebrows, leaning over him. You didn't need to be so worried. Don't be worried.
Your eyes brightened when he saw you and he slowly began to recognize where he was.
He was back in Jackson. At the infirmary, in a bed.
You jumped up, calling over your shoulder for Nick and Tommy before turning back to him and grasping his hand.
"Are you in pain?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to catch up. He squeezed your hand and you gave him a shaky smile.
Tommy and Nick barged into the room and you dropped his hand. Nick began to take his vitals while Tommy tried to stay out of the way, but Joel's focus remained on you. He watched as you drifted around the room on autopilot, handing Nick instruments and supplies from a table, then disappearing out into the hall when he asked you to get some medicine he had no idea how to pronounce.
"What's your pain like, Joel?" Nick asked, reading the blood pressure cuff.
He opened his mouth to answer but immediately started coughing. Tommy twisted around to grab the water bottle next to the sink and Nick lifted it to his lips. "Slow," he reminded him, so Joel sipped slowly then sat back with a sigh.
He was so tired.
"Your pain?"
Joel took a deep breath and winced.
"Ain't great," he croaked, voice all gravelly. You came back into the room and handed Nick the medicine, giving Joel a reassuring smile. God, he missed you so much.
He heard Nick ask you to fill a syringe for him and Joel watched you work, your hands steady and your breath even as you concentrated on getting the dosage exactly right.
"Joel? Did you hear me?"
"Huh?" he asked in a daze, dragging his eyes to his brother.
"I said, what the hell happened out there?" Tommy was pressed up against the wall, making himself as small as possible while you and Nick worked.
"Ran into some raiders- fuck!" he exclaimed when the needle entered his skin.
"Sorry," Nick murmured before pulling it out.
"Where?" Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.
"Not 'round here. Out in California."
Everyone in the room paused to look at him.
"You got this fucked up out in Cali and you made it back?" Tommy asked in disbelief, and Joel slowly nodded his head. "Fuckin'... how?"
Joel's eyes found yours again, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.
"Had a guardian angel," he said, his eyelids beginning to droop.
"The hell does that mean?" Tommy asked. Joel pointed to his pack on the floor.
"Side pocket."
Nick lifted the blanket covering Joel's bare torso so he could inspect his wounds, which had been freshly cleaned and patched up in his sleep. Then he heard the telltale sound of pills rattling in a plastic bottle.
"You found meds out there?" his brother asked, rolling the bottle around in his palm before handing it over to Nick.
"Mhm," was all he said, then watched as you looked over Nick's shoulder to read the label. Your eyes went wide with surprise then looked up at him.
Your lips parted like you wanted to say something, then your gaze darted to the other two men in the room and you decided against it.
"This probably saved you from getting sepsis," Nick said before placing the bottle on the small table next to his bed. "I'm gonna need to keep you here for a bit," and as Joel began to protest, Nick held up his hand. "Just for a bit, I said. Til you get your strength up and I feel confident you don't got any infection or serious internal damage. Then you can go home and recover."
You could see the turmoil in Joel's face. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the comfort of his own bed after a week of putting himself through hell.
"I'll stay here overnight, keep an eye on him and come get you if anything seems off," you said, and all three men paused to look at you in surprise. You shrugged and cleared your throat. "Unless you don't-"
"No," Joel said, cutting you off. His throat felt so tight all of the sudden. "Please stay."
Nick and Tommy exchanged glances before shifting around the room, gathering used instruments and picking up Joel's discarded, bloody clothes.
"I'll grab the cot for you," Nick said on his way out the door.
"Do you need anythin' from home?" Tommy asked and you quickly shook your head.
"I'll be fine."
Joel wanted to tell you everything, but he could feel himself fading. Another time, he thought as you rolled out the cot on the floor next to his bed. You turned off the light before he drifted off to sleep, finally being able to properly rest now that he was back with you.
It took five whole days until Nick finally agreed to let him go home. You stayed with him every night, only going back home to shower and get fresh clothes once a day. It seemed like he was always surrounded by Tommy or Ellie or Nick and there was never a good time to talk to you. He wanted to tell you why he did what he did, he wanted to give you some comfort. But any time the two of you were alone, it was always too brief or he was asleep.
Unbeknownst to Joel, you were struggling with the same issue. You wanted to get some time alone together so you could talk to him about everything you had a chance to reflect on while he was gone, but you knew it would likely be a long and emotional conversation and you really didn't want to do it at work.
There was so much that needed to be said, but the rare few minutes you had alone together you spent holding his hand or feeding him or gently wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with a wet washcloth. You hoped your actions spoke louder than the words you weren't brave enough to say.
Nick helped you restock your first aid kit at home while Tommy got Joel settled back in his bed. You could hear them talking from the hallway, Tommy scolding his brother when he didn't listen to him and he ended up wincing in pain.
"So you're gonna want to make sure he takes this twice a day with food," Nick said, handing you a bottle of orange pills. "For inflammation. Til you run out, then he should be good. And this is only if the pain gets intolerable," he handed you a small baggie of four white pills and narrowed his eyes. "Use them sparingly, we don't have much."
"I know."
"He shouldn't need any more antibiotics but be sure to take his temperature throughout the day and push the fluids. If the numbers get over 102 for more than four hours, come get me right away."
"Okay," you nodded, hoping your sleep deprived brain was absorbing everything.
"Maria agreed to help out at the infirmary for the next couple days, so take as much time as you need. You know I can manage without you," Nick said, and you gave him a feigned look of hurt. "I can manage, I said. Doesn't mean I prefer it," he told you with a roll of his eyes and you had a stifle a laugh. Tommy stepped out of Joel's room and joined you at the top of the stairs.
"All good?"
"I think so," you said, looking back down at the pills Nick gave you.
"You need anythin', you just holler, sugar," Tommy said and you gave him a tired smile in return. The two men walked down the steps and saw themselves out while you filled a glass with water from the sink in the bathroom, bringing it to Joel.
"How are you feeling?" you asked him for what felt like the millionth time in a week.
"Not bad," he said truthfully. You handed him the water and although he wasn't thirsty, he still drank it because it seemed to make you happy and he really liked when you took care of him.
You shifted your weight and glanced around the room awkwardly.
"Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you a book or something?"
Joel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. You were so fucking cute and it was killing him.
"I'm good."
"Good," you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find another reason to stay. When you couldn't think of one, you sighed and hitched your thumb over your shoudler.
"I'll be right next door and I'll leave the doors open. If you need anything or if you're in pain-"
"I know," he said, giving you a soft smile as you tried your best to not stare at his bare chest peeking out from the top of the sheets.
"Okay, then," you said, backing out of the room. "Good night."
You had no idea how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your mind raced and your fingers tapped anxiously against your chest. You couldn't sleep. It must have been hours because the light flicking off in Joel's room felt like ages ago and you hadn't heard any shuffling since.
It's this bed, you thought to yourself. It was the first time in a long time you slept in your own bed and you just couldn't get comfortable.
Or maybe you were too worried about him, even though it seemed like most of his strength was back. The color returned to his cheeks and he was able to stay awake most of the day. Deep down, you knew there wasn't a need to be concerned about him at that point. In all likelihood he was out of the woods. But you still felt the urge to check on him. Just in case.
You slid out of bed and tiptoed quietly out of your room, walking the few feet to Joel's door and leaning against the frame. You tried to observe him from a distance but it was hard to see in the dark, so you crept closer.
He was sound asleep, his hands resting peacefully over his soft stomach, his lips parted ever so slightly as he lightly snored. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the other side of the bed. Deciding not to overthink it, you closed the door and silently made your way around the foot of the bed and slipped underneath the covers with a quiet sigh.
Just for a minute, you thought. You had just grown so accustomed to sleeping in his bed, that's all. But before you knew it, his steady breathing and soft pillows lulled you into a deep sleep.
The sun bled through the curtains, inching across the floorboards and slowly made its way up the sheets until it found your face, but you didn't wake. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the warmth underneath you, far too comfortable to bother waking up just yet.
Joel, however, had been awake before the sun even rose.
He had felt your arms wrapped around his waist at some point towards the early morning. He had managed to turn so your head rested against his bare chest while you continued to sleep so peacefully. It was far too tempting. He fucking ached for you for so long and to wake up and find you in his bed caused his heart to flutter wildly in his chest and all his blood to rush directly between his legs.
He had been doing okay. He was content with just holding you, feeling you, pretending things were back to normal, if only for a little while, but when you nuzzled into his chest and tightened your grip around his waist, he couldn't resist burying his nose in your hair and breathing in deep. He missed you so much it fucking hurt. It was torture, fighting the urge to pull you into him every day and crawl into bed with you at night. He knew it would backfire one day, all his pent up emotions. When Angie caught him during a particularly low point at the Tipsy Bison, drunk and sad and missing you so fucking much, it all blew up in his face. Kissing her was a mistake but he was just so goddamn lonely. He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on your touch to soothe him until he no longer had it.
He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.
He thought he ruined everything in one moment of weakness, but here you were, tucked safely into his side, sound asleep in his arms and he didn't even dare question what brought you into his bed because all that mattered was you were there now. And you made that decision yourself. You sought him out. You wanted to be with him.
Testing the waters, he carefully pressed a kiss on the top of your head, and when you didn't react, he did it again. Sliding his eyes closed, he dragged his lips a little lower, kissing your forehead while he savored the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck. Other than your fingertips fluttering slightly against his stomach, you still didn't move, so he kissed your forehead again. You were so warm and you smelled just like him that he quickly felt himself getting lost in his desire. His kisses became faster and more urgent, finally causing your breathing to change and your body to stir. He knew you were waking but he kept his eyes closed, too afraid of seeing apathy in the face that used to be filled with such love for him.
He was just setting himself up for more heartbreak but he couldn't seem to stop.
His lips traveled a little lower, pressing tenderly against your temple, bracing himself for when you would inevitably push him away. Maybe you weren't fully awake yet because you remained perfectly still, so he continued to take and take, his kisses becoming feverish as he brushed over your eyelids. God, he missed this so much. He missed these lazy mornings with you. They were rare, but on days neither of you had any other commitments you would lounge in bed for as long as your stomachs would allow, holding each other close, getting lost under the sheets.
His time was coming to an end now. Your arms loosened around his waist and soon you would realize where you were and who you were with and it would all be over. He breathed deeply, as if he could bottle you for later. Maybe his sheets would trap your scent. He really hoped they would. He could use another good night's sleep and having you at his side had always ensured that, but he could pretend as long as his pillow still smelled like you.
With his lips still roaming over your brow, you stretched your legs and let out a breathy little noise that made his cock twitch and his stomach tense. He kept his eyes screwed shut, hoping you would assume he was half asleep and therefore unaware of his lips dragging across your face. He didn't want to lie to you again but his heart could only handle so much rejection.
He felt your eyes flutter open, your eyelashes tickling his neck and he really should have stopped kissing you at that point, but it felt like he was spiraling out of control. Like his body had enough of constantly being denied what it craved.
You paused for a moment, giving your brain a chance to catch up. Figuring out where you were and why you were there. Any second now, you would pull away. He kept bracing for it, his heart thundering in his chest now that it knew time was running out, that this feeling of bliss was about to end and it was scrambling to hold on to every split second.
Thinking it would be the last chance, he kissed the corner of your eye and then your cheek. There was no way he would be able to pretend he was still asleep now, but he didn't care. He was growing frantic, his need for you overwhelming, even if this was all he could get, it would have to sustain him until he could figure out how to earn back your trust.
His eyes flew open when your lips pressed wetly against his neck. He froze, his mouth hovering over your ear, waiting to see what you would do next.
Then you did it again. Only this time, you sucked on a bit of his skin, leaving the beginnings of a red mark he would cherish for days.
Before you could blink, he rolled over, his body caging you in underneath him as he examined you with wide and hopeful eyes. You gazed up at him, your breath shallow and your lips parted as your eyes roamed over his face, taking in every freckle and every wrinkle up close. His beard was getting grayer in spots you hadn't noticed before, somehow adding to his appeal. His lips looked dry from the cold but his eyes looked bright and clear and the way the sun was beaming in through the window behind him, his messy curls sticking up every which way made it look like he was wearing a halo.
With a shaky hand, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. It was so much softer than you expected. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch. You watched his throat work as he swallowed nervously and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the skin there again, so you did. Leaning up, your lips suckled at the spot between his jaw and neck, his pulse strong and fast under your tongue. A reminder that he was alive and healthy and finally back home. Your nails raked against his scalp and you sucked at his skin a little harder, a little more urgently, a little more desperately and then he was the first to break.
He whimpered.
He fucking whimpered and that was all it took for you to maneuver slightly under him and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close.
Fuck. He was hard. You felt it in the loose confines of his sweatpants, bobbing against your center when you pulled him down further and it set something on fire inside of you.
You brought your other hand up to get lost in his hair, giving it a tug to pull his head back just a bit so you could angle your mouth over his and you latched onto him hungrily, the contact sending a jolt through your entire body. He slipped his tongue past your teeth and finally allowed himself to touch you, hand cupping your jaw at first, then dropping to grip your ass under the sheets before sliding up your shirt, rough fingers skating up your stomach, then brushing over your tightened nipples, drawing out a sweet little moan which he swallowed down eagerly.
He flattened his hand over your heart, leaving it there as he licked into your mouth, both your jaws pried open as far as they could go, as if you were trying to swallow the other whole. He could feel your heart pounding through your chest, like it was trying to break free and jump into his palm. Like it was saying here, take me, I'm yours. And if you were to untangle your hands from his hair and place one over his own racing heart, he had no doubt you would hear what it was screaming in his chest.
I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.
And of course you forgave him. He was in just as much pain as you. Both of you had been mourning the same person without even realizing it.
And none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not in that moment, anyway. The two of you tangled together, the early morning glow from the sun washing over you, wrapping you up safe and sound in each other's arms.
You dropped your hands, abandoning his hair, nails dragging over his broad shoulders and leaving little red trails in their wake. His own hand slid down from your chest to grab your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him, forcing you to feel how hard he was for you. All for you.
His facial hair burned your chin but you didn't mind. In fact, it felt good. You chased the feeling, pushing your mouth even harder against him, wanting to make sure you would feel that burn for the rest of the day.
Then you heard a knock on the front door.
Joel didn't react.
Either too lost in the moment or unwilling to allow it to end. Your hands drifted lower, over his relatively smooth chest and over his ribs, your fingertips dancing over each one like piano keys, careful to avoid his wound.
Another knock, louder now, made you pause. Breaking free and turning your head slightly to the side to open your eyes, you tried to listen, but Joel's mouth just slid down your jaw, nipping playfully as he went before biting gently on your earlobe. You gasped softly, momentarily forgetting about the door, your back arching underneath him. His tongue flattened against the hollow of your exposed throat, his exhale tickled your skin and caused a wave of goosebumps to emerge and he smirked, tongue still lavishing your neck as his fingers dug harder into your hip, like he was afraid to let you go.
Now you heard the front door unlock and carelessly swing open, but Joel still didn't stop.
"Joel," you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse. He only hummed in response, then his mouth latched onto your clothed breast, his tongue flicking against the thin material and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out because you heard Ellie's voice now, along with Tommy's, making their way up the stairs.
"Joel!" you said, firmer this time and pushing him back. His dark eyes snapped up to yours, his parted lips wet and swollen as he gasped for air. Thankfully, it sounded like they had tried the master bedroom first. You heard Tommy's heavy steps enter your bathroom before walking back out into the hall and it finally clicked with Joel that you were no longer alone.
"Fuck," he muttered right before the door swung open. He dropped his upper body to cover yours best he could, protecting your modesty even though you were still fully clothed.
"Shit! Sorry!" Tommy exclaimed, backing out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as embarrassment flooded your veins, tucking your face into Joel's neck to hide.
"What-" you heard Ellie say from the hall, then the door slammed shut, leaving just you and Joel. The two of you stayed frozen, his body still pinning yours into the mattress under the covers, legs still wrapped around his waist as you listened to Tommy and Ellie's hushed voices trail down the stairs.
"Fuck," he sighed again, dropping his head against your shoulder.
Your heart fluttered in your chest as the both of you slowly regained your senses. Your hands drifted lightly over his back as he nuzzled into your neck, and you were perfectly content to remain just like that, but unfortunately he pushed himself up on his elbows with a sigh.
"I should go see what he wants," he murmured, giving you a heated look that told you talking to his brother was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Okay," you squeaked, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it and instead sat up with a grunt. You pulled the covers back over you, the cool morning air prickling your skin now that you didn't have his body heat to keep you warm, and watched as he fumbled around the room for a discarded shirt. When his back was turned, he tried to subtly tuck his throbbing cock into his waistband, but you noticed and bit back a grin. Secretly, you were grateful for the interruption. As much as you wanted him, you needed to take things slow.
He walked down the stairs, his pace slower than usual as he favored his side with the wound. When his eyes met Tommy's in the kitchen, he saw the flash of guilt across his face for interrupting what was shaping up to be a really good fucking morning.
"Sorry," he said again, glancing quickly at the back of Ellie's head as she rummaged through the pantry for something to eat, completely oblivious to what they almost walked in on. "The kid let me in."
"Yeah, I got that," Joel grumbled as he made his way to the coffee maker and flipped the switch.
"Hey Joel, can I take this?" Ellie held up a box of granola bars and he nodded. She ripped into one and practically shoved half of it into her mouth. "How's it feel to be back home?" she asked with a mouthful of sticky oats. Joel made a disgusted face at the visual and she smirked at his reaction.
"Good," was all he said, turning away before the heat crept up his neck. It felt really fucking good to be home. "So what's goin' on?" he asked Tommy, who was leaning up against the kitchen sink.
"Couple of guys found some tracks this mornin'," Tommy began, and the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stood up.
"Tracks?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway in a fresh set of clothes. Joel tried not to let his gaze linger on you, noting with a sick sense of pride that your neck still looked a little pink from his mouth, but it was hard. He should have just stayed in bed with you.
"Doesn't look like a big group," he said as Joel's face fell. "It ain't your fault-"
"They followed me here, Tommy," Joel rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"We'll handle it," Tommy replied calmly while you and Ellie sat down silently at the table to listen. "Shit was bound to happen sooner or later."
"Goddamnit," Joel growled angrily under his breath. "I shoulda been more careful. Stupid fuckin'-"
"Joel, you were passed out on the back of a horse," Tommy reasoned, "it's a miracle you even made it back at all. The tracks were a few miles south, I'm gonna get a group together later this mornin' and see what we can find."
"I'll go with you," he said but before Tommy could respond, you piped up.
"No, you're not."
Joel twisted around, taking in the alarmed look on your face. He held your gaze for a moment, your eyes pleading with him. Please don't. I just got you back. He immediately caved.
"Okay," he agreed, and you visibly relaxed with a smile. You desperately wanted to go to him, pull him close and thank him for listening to you, but your audience held you back.
Ellie glanced between the two of you with a knowing grin, finally sensing the change in the room.
"I wasn't lookin' for volunteers, anyway," Tommy said, breaking the heavy silence and pushing off the counter. "Just comin' by to tell you what's goin' on. We're headin' out in an hour, I'll stop by later and let you know what we find."
The coffee maker beeped and Joel grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "Be careful out there," he told his brother as Tommy slid on his boots and swung open the door. "Don't do anythin' stupid."
"That's rich, comin' from you," he replied with a chuckle and Ellie snorted. Joel shot him a glare before he left, pouring coffee into each of your mugs. He took a grateful sip before bringing yours to the table and sat down. The both of you sipped your coffees in silence, eyes glued to the table while trying to ignore the obvious tension building. Ellie began to connect the dots and stood up.
"I should get going," she announced.
"You don't have to-"
"Stay and warm up a bit-"
She cut you both off. "I got shit to do. Homework and all that," she said, lying through her teeth as she headed for her boots. "Don't worry, I'll lock it behind me," she teased, slipping out the front door while your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.
"Jesus," you muttered and Joel had to hold back a laugh. He stared down at his coffee, the mug now half filled with the dark, steaming liquid as he struggled to come up with something to say. There was so much he didn't even know where to start.
"Oh! Your meds!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your chair to retrieve the little orange pills Nick gave you the night before. "He said you need to take these with food. Let me make you something," you told him while you shuffled around pots and pans, looking for anything to keep yourself busy.
He sat back in his chair and watched you move around the kitchen with ease. Pulling oatmeal out of the pantry, measuring it out, boiling the pot with water.
You looked nervous. The thought made him smile. He made you nervous.
Right as you turned the burner off and grabbed a bowl you felt his hands circle your hips. You sighed and couldn't resist melting against him, closing your eyes for a moment and resting the back of your head against his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"Thank you," he whispered while pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear.
"It's just oatmeal," you whispered back. He swallowed and shook his head before planting another kiss in the same spot.
"No, it's not."
You knew what he was trying to say and it made your heart swell. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for staying. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
"You're welcome," you replied, your voice wavering a bit as you turned around in his arms. You laced your fingers together behind his neck and gazed up at him, examining every wrinkle and scar, fighting the urge to kiss each and every one.
"I love you," he said softly while his thumbs tucked underneath the hem of your shirt, searching for any bit of your soft skin he could find. "I know you can't say it back yet and that's okay. I just really needed to tell you."
You blinked back your tears and nodded, pulling him down to your level and slotting your lips together once again. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and for the first time everything just felt right so you tentatively flicked your tongue over his lower lip. You felt him smile before he allowed you to deepen the kiss, your tongue slowly and deeply massaging his as he pulled your body closer, pressing you firmly against him.
A deep groan rumbled from his chest when you raked your fingers through his hair, your knees practically buckling at the sound. He walked you backwards until you felt the counter pressing against your back, his kisses growing hungrier and his fingers gripping your hips tighter.
"Your food's getting cold," you mumbled, turning your face towards the oatmeal cooling on the stove.
"Don't care," he said, his lips grazing over your throat. He missed you so much and now that he finally had you, he couldn't get enough. When he dropped to his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans and his mouth ghosting over the apex of your thighs, you gasped and grabbed his hair, stopping him.
"I-I'm not ready for all that yet," you admitted as the warmth of embarrassment flooded your cheeks and chest. "I'm sorry, I know you've been waiting for so long-"
"Shh, it's okay," he said sincerely, then stood back up with a grunt. He cupped your face and gave you a gentle kiss. "I can wait. I'll wait forever, I don't care," he still cradled your jaw as he nuzzled his nose alongside yours.
"This is all I ever want, anyway," he whispered, and you smiled.
It was the first day of your fresh start.
Nick had offered you time off to care for Joel but it quickly became apparent as the day went on that he was doing far better than any of you expected.
He only had a little trouble going up the stairs so the two of you spent the rest of the day in the living room. You had thought he was going to try and nap so you busied yourself with a book, his head resting in your lap as your fingers absentmindedly carded through his curls while you read on the couch, the fire crackling next to you. It wasn't until you lifted your hand to flip a page when you noticed his eyes on you and you grinned.
"I thought you were going to try and sleep?"
"Not very tired," he replied, gently reaching up for your wrist and putting your hand back in his hair. "Feels real nice," he explained. You put your book face down, the spine spread open to hold your place, and began playing with his hair again.
"Joel?"
"Hm?"
"Did you go to my parents' house?"
Shit. In all the chaos since arriving back in Jackson he never had a chance to tell you.
"Yes," he said, staring up at you from your lap, watching as the shadow from the flames danced across your face.
"Is that where it happened?" you asked, your eyes traveling to the side where he was stabbed. He nodded and you sniffled, dropping your gaze to the floor. "I thought so. Because of the pills," you said quietly, "my name was on the bottle."
"I know," he replied, watching as your eyes clouded with guilt. He frowned. "What's wrong?"
"You got hurt because of me," you said, lower lip trembling. "If I hadn't been so immature we could've talked about it but instead I pushed you away and you almost died trying to prove a point-"
"Hey," he cut you off and sat up next to you, "it's not your fault, don't you dare think that, alright?" He cupped your face but you still refused to meet his eye. "I fucked up. It was on me, okay? I fucked up with Angie and I fucked up out there."
"You could've died," you said, two tears trickling down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs.
"But I didn't."
You took in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. "Don't do something like that ever again," you told him, an undercurrent of anger in your voice, and he smirked.
"Yes, ma'am."
He dropped his hold on your face and leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "Can't deny it got results, though," he teased after a moment and you shot him a glare but he could see you biting back a smile. You picked up your book, leaning into his shoulder just a bit as you continued to read and he stared into the fire, his mind still reeling to catch up with how fast things changed. It felt like a dream.
"What did you go there for, anyway?"
Joel rolled his eyes. "It sounds so stupid now."
You put your book back down and twisted to face him. "I'm sure it's not."
With a groan, Joel pushed himself up from the couch and began to rummage through his backpack, which remained idle next to the door since the day before. You tucked your legs underneath you and watched curiously.
When he pulled out a familiar looking binder, a faded beige color with a black trim, you could have sworn your heart stopped.
"I wanted to give you somethin' that you would recognize. Somethin' that felt like home," he began, holding it out to you. "Maybe bring you some comfort or... I don't know. Like I said, it sounds stupid now."
"No," you whispered as you carefully took the album from his hands. "Not stupid, Joel." You pursed your lips as you stared at the cover, your fingertips gently skirting over the fabric. Your family was right in your lap. So many wonderful memories... right fucking there.
The tears welled up without warning and began to pour down your cheeks.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded.
"Yeah," you said, laughing through the tears. "You... you gave me my family back, Joel. How-" your voice cracked and you averted your gaze, doing your best to compose yourself but you knew it was no use. "How could you think this was stupid? This is everything to me."
He gave you a shy smile and shrugged. "Then it was worth it."
He had been listening to you for the better part of an hour as you walked him through each photo in the album and his only regret was he wasn't able to stay long enough in California to find more pictures. He loved hearing you talk about your family, about your childhood, about everything you loved. The look on your face and the tone of your voice was all he ever wanted. You were so fucking happy, so content and at ease that he knew without a doubt if he had to go through it all over again, he would do it in a heartbeat.
"Oh my god, so this was taken the day Matty tried to teach me to surf," you said with a giggle, dragging his eyes from your face to a picture of you and your brother on the beach in wetsuits. "He had learned in college because he went to school on the coast. I told you that, right?"
"Yep," he said with a warm smile.
"Anyway, it went as well as you could imagine. I have no coordination whatsoever. I fell, like, every single time, no matter how small the wave... Oh! This must have been his graduation," you said, pointing to the next photo of the four of you all dressed up in front of a regal looking building. "He was so smart, Joel. He was going to be a chemist. Who does that? Who majors in Chemistry? I absolutely hated chem," you said with a shake of your head. Your eyes hadn't stopped shining since you opened the album and the smile never left your face. Your gaze softened and you quieted down as you stared down lovingly at the pictures, your fingers tracing over them delicately. Occasionally you would tell him a story and other times you would grow quiet and thoughtful. He sat by your side and just listened, letting you work through your feelings and memories at your own pace.
"I miss them so much," you eventually said softly.
"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
"Thank you, Joel," you said, voice thick with emotion when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, and he saw your throat bob when you swallowed tightly. "This means so much to me, I don't know how to put it into words."
"You're welcome, baby," he told you. He pinched your chin and leaned in to kiss you when a sharp knock sounded from the door.
He stood with a frustrated huff and you hid your smile, setting the photo album down on the sofa next to you.
"Hey, come in," Joel said once he opened the door. Tommy stepped through and shrugged off his coat, locking eyes and giving you a nod. "What'd you find?"
"There were only four. Two of 'em were half frozen and the other two didn't have much fight in 'em."
You made a face and looked away as Joel led Tommy into the kitchen.
"Who were they?" Joel asked, and you heard the telltale sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. You stood and made your way towards the kitchen.
"Don't know," Tommy admitted, tossing back the whiskey. Joel gave him a refill right as you were entering the room. "We questioned the two that were conscious but they didn't give us much. Said they were alone. Said they were part of a bigger group that got picked off."
"The men I killed?" Joel asked, brow furrowed as he took a sip of whiskey.
"They didn't say, but they did tell us a few of their guys were out scavenging and never made it back, so maybe."
Joel nodded and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
"You think they were tellin' the truth? That there ain't any more of 'em?"
Tommy shrugged. "Didn't have reason to think otherwise. We scoured the area. Couldn't find any other tracks-"
"But the snow coulda covered it up," Joel offered anxiously. He scratched his chin, staring blankly at the floor while the gears turned in his head. "They probably followed the horse tracks and when the snow got to be too much, they lost their way. They were comin' for me, Tommy."
For some reason it never occurred to you that those men were looking for revenge. It sent a shiver down your spine.
"Or they were just lookin' for someplace warm. You don't know, Joel. Besides, it don't matter now. It's dealt with."
Joel didn't look convinced but he kept his mouth shut, for your sake. He could tell he was worrying you and he had already put you through enough as it was.
"Listen, I oughta get back to Maria. I'm sure she's got her hands full," Tommy said after a brief silence. He handed Joel his empty glass and shot you a look. "Don't worry, sugar. We got this under control."
You gave him a tight smile and moved out of his way so he could gather his things.
"Thank you," you told him quietly while Joel rinsed out their glasses.
His eyes flicked up to yours as he laced up his boots. "Don't mention it. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, I promise."
You wished his words brought you some comfort but you couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of your head.
"C'mon. Why don't you show me more pictures," Joel urged once Tommy was on his way. It was clear he was trying to get your mind off things.
"Actually, I think I'm gonna go to bed," you told him. He was in the middle of picking up your photo album when he paused and glanced up. His eyes scanned your face, clocking the anxiety you were trying to hide. He could tell you still felt responsible, even though he had insisted what happened wasn't your fault, and now the raiders following him back into the mountains just made matters worse.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," you replied, your voice sounding more confident as you tried to shrug off the bad feeling Tommy left. Your eyes flickered to his awkwardly. "Do you... need help getting up the stairs?"
He frowned and shook his head, too lost in his own head to pick up on what you were too nervous to really ask. "I'll be alright. Go get some rest, I'm gonna stay up for a bit."
After you went to bed, he tried to distract himself from the possibility he put the entire town, but more importantly, you, at risk. He poured another glass of whiskey and picked up a book, but he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over for half an hour.
What a stupid fucking thing to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. Maybe he could convince you tomorrow to let him go out with Tommy. He trusted his brother, but he knew he would feel better if he explored the area himself. He knew he had to be careful. He made so much progress with you, he couldn't risk fucking that up, either, and based on the way you looked at him earlier, it was clear the prospect of him leaving Jackson again so soon scared you.
Warmth bloomed in his chest and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. The idea of you scared didn't please him, but scared for him? Well, that was different.
The way he woke up that morning still felt like a dream. Your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzled into his shoulder, your scent invading his senses. It felt strange for a split second until his memories came flooding back from a time when he woke up like that every single day and he foolishly wondered if you had finally remembered. Once you opened your eyes he knew instantly you hadn't, but somehow he was even more excited that someone as perfect as you found your way into his bed twice.
Bed.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He was procrastinating now, tending to the fire one last time before dragging himself back to his empty bed. How was he going to sleep when he knew you were right in the next room? God, what he wouldn't give to curl up in bed with you.
He froze, the poker hovering in the air halfway towards the fire as he thought back to your words when you went to bed, now hours ago.
Do you need help getting up the stairs?
You sounded a little strange but at the time he just chalked it up to Tommy's news about the raiders. When you asked if he needed help, were you trying to get him to come up and sleep with you?
"Oh, you fuckin' idiot," he growled to himself under his breath before slotting the poker back in the stand. Was it too late?
He crept quietly up the steps, hoping to see your light on under your door but unfortunately, your room was dark. Shit.
Changing into his sweatpants, he mentally chastised himself for being so goddamn thick and missing his opportunity to go to bed with you. After he washed up, he paced around his room, anxiously chewing his nail and wondering what he should do. Should he just go to sleep? Should he slip into your bed the way you did the night before? Would you be upset if he did?
Just when he thought he was about to wear a hole into the thin carpet he heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He froze and held his breath, wondering if he imagined it until he heard it again.
He rushed to the door and whipped it open where he found you standing in the hallway wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants of your own. You didn't look like you had just woken up, your eyes didn't look like they were clouded with sleep. You were waiting for him.
Your gaze darted quickly over his bare chest, like you were trying not to look but couldn't help yourself. His cock twitched, excited by the notion that you could be fighting your own arousal, same as him.
"Can I stay with you?" you asked, your voice impossibly small and fuck, his heart squeezed in his chest at how sweet you were in that moment.
"Yeah," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He widened the door and stepped aside, watching as you slipped past him and curled up underneath his sheets.
Neither of you said a word. He just flicked off the light and slid into bed beside you, turning onto his side and pulling you against him. His face nuzzled the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and he heard you sigh. He held you close and with tears in his eyes whispered how sorry he was, how he would never hurt you again, how he was weak and stupid and he loved you so much.
You didn't say much in return. Just the occasional nod or sniffle or squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.
All of the stress and anguish from the past several months were the furthest things from both your minds as you fell asleep that night, each of you finally assured that everything was going to be okay.
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#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#the last of us game#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#ikwya fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou
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🍒🍦 ⸺ ᳂ cherry vanilla dr. pepper !!!
cw: afab reader, voyeurism, tashi and you make out while you get pounded, weird amalgamation of dehumanization/objectification/pet play, subby!art coded, spit roasting at the end, slight overstimulation, bizarre orgy vibes, mean dom!tashi to everyone but you <3, implied breeding/creampie kink, canon typical mind games, tashi sits in the cuck chair /j, implied romantic feelings but no mention of established romantic relationships, slight mxm, clit stimulation, one use of “mommy”
happy challengers day 🎾💚
consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !
“Round 4 will be the last one, alright? Get ready, baby.”
You take deep breaths, clutching onto Patrick’s wrist. You lock eyes with Tashi, feeling syrupy sweet deep in your gut. She grins and unbuttons the top buttons of her shirt, leaving you three to your own devices for now.
The stretch of Patrick’s cock stings and burns a little but Art nipping at your hip bones helps distract you. Patrick pants against the nape of your neck, you feel so divinely tight he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.
He keeps his voice low so Tashi can’t hear him, “Fuck-you feel incredible, i’d kill for this pussy, you know that.”
“Hook your arm around their neck, good boy.” Tashi instructs Patrick, leaning back in the hotel chair and palming her pussy at the sight in front of her.
“Yes, ma’am.” He swiftly calls back, acting like he hadn’t said anything to you at all.
Patrick has you in a headlock, pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy with reckless abandon. Art is beneath the two of you, suckling on your clit like it’s a nipple he’s trying to get milk out of. He licks where you’re stretched around Patrick, drawing groans from you both and a chuckle from Tashi.
“Be a good dog and lap them up, okay? I’d hate to have to take away your toy privileges.” She sneers, sliding her damp underwear to the side and stroking her slit.
The “toy” in the equation isn't you.
You’re dead to the world, eyes bulging out of their sockets and nails trying to rip the white sheet to shreds. Your head and tits rock back and forth with Patrick’s thrusts, already on the brink of your fourth orgasm. You try to scream that you can’t take anymore, but you wanna make Tashi proud so you shut up.
“ ‘s so good…” Art hums into your mound, pecking little kisses onto it here and there.
His sounds are muffled but the vibrations send your eyes to the back of your head. The chair in the corner of the room creaks as Tashi gets up, and the second you lift your head and open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you with all the warmth she doesn’t give the men pleasing you. This isn’t about them, it never was.
“Patrick’s so big, Tashi-he’s unggggh-he’s gonna kill me!” You whine, desperately pawing at her clothed breasts.
She coos and pulls her blouse up, bringing your hands to cup her tits and keeping them there, “Baby you know he’s not, this pussy can take a beating. I’d only give you the best toys.”
You nod wordlessly, pouting your lips. She gets the message and claims your lips in a searing kiss, luxuriating in the slick slide of your lips. She loves to make it messy, getting spit all over your mouths and letting it drip on the bed.
Art mewls and flicks your clit, trying to get your attention. You feel bad and try to pull away from Tashi, but she yanks you back into the kiss and bites your lip as a punishment. You hiccup into her mouth, startled when Patrick starts jackhammering into you.
Tashi typically has them alternate, but Art prefere to bury his face between your thighs and Patricks likes to play with fire by cumming inside your sore cunt. He doesn’t speak as much as Art does, but sometimes he holds Tashi stare as you two make out. They’ll have to retire from Tashi’s “employment” eventually, and they’ll be taking you with them when they do. All games of keep away end.
Patrick traces letters and shapes on the glistening skin of your sweaty back, sloppy hearts and ‘ I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U ‘ s.
You gasp and wrench yourself back to breathe. Art flattens his tongue and licks broad stripes over your labia. He nuzzles his nose into you, stopping to pant and take in your smell. He may be delusional, but he’s convinced that every part of you is so sweet. He honest to God can’t get enough, he’d lie in a puddle at your feet if you wanted him too.
Sometimes you feel torn when you fall into bed with your lovers. You’re too soft to be like Tashi, but that exact softness is exactly why you can’t handle being away from her for too long. Maybe you’ve fallen under her spell just like all the rest, but she puts her career on the line to prove how special you are.
Patrick pulls you up to rest your back against your chest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moan when he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to rub against your cervix repeatedly. He wasn’t like this when the evening started, Patrick only roughens you up when you’ve been thoroughly run through and can take it with a dopey smile and glazed eyes.
“Keep going, it’s okay- want it-want you.” You cry out to Patrick, reaching down to caress his hip.
He smiles and licks your cheek, complying with your request.
Art grins up at you with his eyes, mouthing ‘That’s my angel, only for us.’ into the flesh of your inner thigh. He moves to Patrick balls and takes them into his mouth, bobbing them up and down with his tongue. Patrick moans as Art laves his balls in saliva. Art lets them fall out of his mouth, curling his tongue around the inches peeking out of your pussy and hollowing his cheeks out.
“Shit! Stop, ‘m gonna cum!” Patrick hisses through his teeth.
He either empties another load into you or he just refuses to cum if your pussy’s not available, period.
“They’re so hungry for it, aren’t they? Well, can he? Can our dog cum inside you, baby?” Tashi tsks, cupping your cheeks and bringing your attention back to her.
“Yes, yes, yes! He can cum inside-please let him cum inside mommy-i need it so bad-wanna be stuffed full with it!” You whimper and arch your back, jutting your tits out.
Tashi laughs and leans down to suck one of your pert nipples into her mouth, bouncing your other breast in her hand. Tears spill from your waterline down to her freshly manicured nails. Art has since gone back to sucking the life out of your clit, and the little wink he sends you doesn’t help you hold back your impending orgasm.
Patrick thrusts a few more times and then you’re cumming in sync. You go brain dead and your body locks up in his arms. You’re out of it for a good few minutes, and when you have full awareness again you see Art kneeling in front of you. He holds his dick out for you to gawk at, slowly pumping himself for your amusement.
Patrick hasn’t pulled out of your pussy but he doesn’t fuck you again, he jostles his hips to find the most comfortable position for his softening cock to plug you up.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He huffs and pushes you back down on all fours.
“You need your mouth taken care of too.” Art whines and squeezes his cock around the base, beckoning you closer with a ‘come hither’ gesture.
Said man is tenderly and carefully bundling up your hair in his arm and casting it aside, giving him ample space on your back to pet. He rubs the pink tip of his cock along your jawline, he gives you a fresh coat of lip gloss via his precum as he slaps your plump lips with his cockhead.
“It’s kinda like sucking off a dildo attached to a mirror, don’t think too hard about it.” Tashi tells you, crouching down to suck the small divot in your back.
She sits back in the cheap black hotel chair, shrugging her blouse off and pinching her nipples.
You moan at the first taste of Art’s cock, longer than Patrick’s but with less heft to it. You peer out of the corner of your eye to see if Tashi’s still watching, and you feel silly when you realize that she always is.
“Doing good, baby, keep it up.”
But that’s the thing, they’re all watching you now. It’s not hard to be a pathetic bottom that needs to be coddled and tended to at all times. It’s never difficult to stroke the fire in someone’s ego, you’ve had an easier job of that than anything else.
You saw them all together on the court, you were there for lessons that didn’t work out. Who knows how long ago, it feels like a lifetime, but all it took was one look to recognize what was destined to be yours. You couldn’t give less of a fuck about Tennis in actuality, but you sure do love the players.
They all have hearts in their eyes as they watch you. Art with his dick deep down your throat, his legs are trembling as he tries to stop himself from fucking your face. Patrick, still making a forever home for himself in your guts, his eyes are so dark you have to repress a shiver. And Tashi, knuckles deep in her pussy, finger fucking herself to the pretty little show her baby puts on with their toys.
When the boys are asleep, you’ll bounce on her ribbed strap until you shatter all over again.
Now, Is it cheating to win a game when people don’t realize that you're playing?
- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai
#challengers#challengers movie#zendaya#mike faist#josh o'connor#art donaldson#patrick zweig#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#art donaldson smut#art donaldson challengers#challengers smut#mike faist challengers#tashi donaldson#tashi donaldson x reader#tashi donaldson x you#tashi donaldson smut#tashi donaldson challengers#zendaya challengers#zendaya x reader#zendaya x you#zendaya smut#⚰️.deaddove#josh o’connor challengers#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#yandere smut#patrick zweig smut
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KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.
tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)
a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs
thirty minutes ago.
art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.
art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.
“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”
ahem.
you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.
you blink at him, once, twice.
a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”
it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.
and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.
you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“
“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.
he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.
your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.
maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.
���𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
silence did not earn anything.
art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.
the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.
if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.
he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”
“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”
art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.
to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”
you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.
smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”
he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”
ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.
and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
art said he forgave you, right?
ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”
“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.
“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.
“whatever helps,” you remark.
“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.
once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”
eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.
“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”
you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”
“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”
“with tennis?”
“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.
“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.
yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.
“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.
he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.
“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.
“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.
“like your wife?”
“like you.”
art corrected you.
he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.
the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.
at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.
“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?
gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.
“what?” you frown, confused.
“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.
“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.
“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”
“what do you mean?”
art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“
“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.
“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”
“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”
“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.
“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”
you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.
when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.
he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”
“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.
he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”
“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.
“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.
“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.
“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”
“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.
“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”
he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.
soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.
he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.
“ready?” he hushes out.
“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.
“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.
his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.
sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.
“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.
in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.
he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”
#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#mike faist#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#art donaldson smut#art donaldson challengers#challengers#challengers smut#mike faist smut#mike faist challengers
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challenge accepted!♡
synopsis: you're surprised when you find out he has not had his first kiss yet, you're even more surprised when he lets you be the one to change that aka your first kiss with Satoru<3
content: Gojo Satoru x gender neutral reader. Fluff!. Written with the highschool arc/satosugu friendship in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but you can read it however you wish♡ Detailed descriptions of kissing. Around 650 words. Eng is not my first language. Not entirely proofread, lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡
He's the strongest around, the Gojo Satoru! He has everything he could want and he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. He doesn't have to but he does enjoy doing so.
So when you and Suguru teamed up against him, giggling oh so cruelly because here he was spouting out dating advice, saying that Geto will turn into a "grumpy old man" if he continues to reject people's advances, when he hasn't even had his first kiss yet, he knew he had to fix that♡
⁎⁺˳✧༚໒꒱.*
"You don't have much of a say seeing as you haven't kissed, let alone dated anyone yet, Satoru.~" Suguru replies, voice still as gentle as always even when he's dealing with his best friend's nonsense.
You're not entirely sure why your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Sure it's unexpected given Gojo's flirty nature and good looks, but it's igniting a feeling of something almost hopeful in your heart....you don't like him that, not at all, right? So why is the image of him pulling you in by your waist and dipping down to lock his lips against yours fogging over your mind?
You've gone quiet for a bit as you hoped to make sense of what you're feeling, not unperceived by your friends sitting next to you
"Y/n?" They speak at the same time. You miss the shared glance of concern
You're glad you can blame the afternoon sun for the sudden spark of warmth surging through your body.
"Sorry, yeah, I'm here" you reply a bit clumsily as you make the mistake of looking back at him and the words almost get stuck in your throat. he looks ridiculously handsome with the way his head is slightly tilted, enough to look at you over his glasses, blue eyes shining even brighter in the sunlight, and something as simple as that really shouldn't be as attractive as it is.
Just for a split second you see his eyes soften as he lets his gaze trace of your features before he nudges his glasses back in place and continues-
"You're supposed to back me up, you know?? Tell him!"
"There's nothing wrong with not having had your first kiss yet, Suguru" you say sweetly. Gojo visibly relaxes and that stupid infamous smirk forms on his lips as he nods along with your words. you stifle back a laugh as you continue, "Unless you're Gojo Satoru"
The flail of his arms is entirely dramatic and entirely in character. It's not helping that you can hear the snickering of Suguru beside him too.
He's quiet for a moment as he regains his composure, one of his arms now draped behind you along the bench. He takes his glasses off and hangs them on the collar of his shirt.
"Alright"
.....
"Alright?"
Your body registers it before your brain does, heart fluttering in your chest, a hitch in your breath as he leans in. He's close, but he doesn't close the gap just yet. You can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks and his intoxicatingly good, probably extremely expensive cologne envelops the rest of your senses, makes you a little dizzy as all you see, hear, and feel is him but he allows you enough space to back away if this is not what you desire.
Perhaps your heart already knew what you're mind was just trying to catch up to. You have fallen in love. Fallen in love with Satoru of all people.
You're sure that at least a minute has passed since he leaned in but he doesn't falter and patiently waits until you do finally give him the smallest of nods and then it's over for you, you've fallen too deep now and you cannot and do not want to come back from this, from him.
the kiss is sweet, almost too sweet if you didn't have a sweet tooth that could battle Satoru's. And for a first kiss it's quite heavy, a little deeper and longer than you expected and it continues to linger warmly on your lips when he finally pulls away, face a little flushed, eyes bright, and smirking like he just won the lottery
"Now, listen, Suguru" he begins but you tune it out. Too focused on trying to calm the racing of your heart, too enamoured with the memory of his lips on yours
Gojo doesn't remove his arm from around your shoulder but his other hand has intertwined with yours as he draws heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb, silently letting you know this was more than him just trying to prove something, silently letting you know, he'd be yours if you'll have him♡
Thank you for reading, angels!<3
I haven't written for jjk in such a long time😩 but I started season 2 and I want them to be HAPPY
#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#jjk fic#jjk fluff
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We Become We
pairing: husband!lee minho x reader
genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified
word count: 1.02k
note: i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡
Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it?
You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.
Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee.
(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?”
“Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”
“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)
Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you.
And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers.
Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls.
You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.”
You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them.
Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth.
Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row?
Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.
That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?
Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?
You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face.
It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh.
Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief.
And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.
It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.
The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep.
…
Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.
You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too.
liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated
my asks are always open ♡
taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn
#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#lee know#lee minho#skz x reader#lee know fluff#lee know scenarios#lee know imagines#lee minho imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids lee minho#stray kids lee know#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids#stray kids fluff#stray kids fic#skz#kpop imagines#skz scenarios#skz fluff#lee minho x y/n#lee minho x you#stray kids x you#lee know x you#lee know x y/n#stayinlimbo
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Finally Getting Help (pt 14)
Masterpost
“Do you want to go back to the manor, or do you want to go somewhere else?” Jason asked Danny after a few quiet minutes driving.
“Can we go out of Gotham? Somewhere quiet,” Jason hummed and nodded before switching the com on. “Hey Bruce, will you kill me if I take Danny camping for tonight?” He asked, he knew Danny loved the stars, being away from Gotham’s pollution for a night and getting to properly see the stars would probably help.
There was a pause and then Bruce’s soft response. “No, I know you’ll take care of him, Jaylad. Will you stop by the manor so Alfred can make sure you have everything you need?”
“Ya I’ll do that, will you call him to make sure he has stuff ready for us? Probably a car too since I don’t think I can fit a tent and provisions on the back of my bike,” Jason chuckled.
“Don’t you worry Master Jason, we have a motorcycle trailer I shall pack for you,” Alfred said over the coms.
Jason had forgotten that Alfred was on the coms as Agent A. “Thanks A,” Jason said and then turned off the radio again. “Does that sound good Danny? We’ll probably have to wait a bit for Alfred to pack up some food for us and stuff but getting out of Gotham overnight, being able to see the sky…?”
“Ya, ya Jason that sounds perfect. Thank you,” Danny said, squeezing Jason gently and snuggled against his back.
They pulled up outside the manor and Jason kicked down his bike stand so they could both get off. “Do you want to go in and pack some clothes or stay out here?” Jason asked as he got off and leaned against his bike still.
“I don’t want to go in,” Danny said quickly. Jason knew the feeling, where being surrounded by walls felt like a trap.
“Alright, do you mind Alfie grabbing some clothes for you then?” He asked.
“No, I don’t mind,” Danny assured. “I’m looking forward to getting away from people. I’m glad not to have to be a hero anymore honestly, but I haven’t used my ghost form in a couple weeks and I want to Fly,” He said. “Nothing clears my head like flying as fast as I can.”
“Ya I can imagine. Bruce should introduce you to some of the supers, it would be good for you to spar with someone you can go all out with,” Jason said crossing his arms, not missing the way Danny’s eyes lingered on his biceps, smirking a little at Danny’s moment of distraction.
“Ya, it would probably be good for me to get some training with my powers too. Mom taught both me and Jazz martial arts when we were kids, before things got bad, but that was a while ago and before I got my powers.” Danny said a little vaguely.
Jason nodded and was about to respond when he heard a soft motor, looking up to see Alfred driving a cart over to them, towing a small trailer towards them that no doubt had everything they needed for their camping trip. Maybe even enough from a weekend away in case Danny needed more time.
“I’m sure you have a relatively secure location in mind, Master Jason?” Alfred asked once he came to a halt.
“Ya I do, Gonna get as far away from civilization as I can within a day’s drive,” He told Alfred who gave a thin smile and nodded.
“Very good, be safe you too,” Alfred said, stepping back again.
“We will, thank you Alfred,” Danny said with a little smile, going to stand by the bike, letting Jason get on first again before sitting down behind him again and hugged him.
“Ya, don’t worry about us,” Jason assured as he put his helmet back on and kicked off, speeding back out of the manor drive before anyone else got home. They were probably dawdling to give Jason and Danny time to get out again, he appreciated it, he didn’t think Dick in particular would be able to stop himself from questioning Danny. Even though he would only have the best intentions and all that but now wasn’t the time.
It was a decently long drive to the nearest national park, where Jason went off-roading and in the back. He would make a donation later, he just didn’t want anyone to be able to track that this was where they were. Taking Danny this far away from Gotham and the other Bats was already a bit of a risk with Vlad still at large but Jason had the specter-deflector and blaster Danny gave him with them and he hadn’t told anyone where they were going, they’d be fine. He was good at off-roading and judging from the giggling from Danny he was enjoying the off-road motorbike ride.
When they were far enough away from the road no one was likely to see them there was a bright flash behind Jason and the weight of his bike shifted. He almost panicked Danny had fallen off before he caught movement to his side and glanced over to see Danny, now with white hair and green eyes, grinning at him impishly and racing along at his side flying fast.
“Race you!” Danny said, his voice had an odd echoing chime to it in this form but it was still recognizably his. There was plausible deniability about his identity though, sure as hell more than there was for superman but maybe they should still find him a mask.
“You’re on! But no just going through the trees! If I have to dodge, so do you!” Jason laughed.
“You got it!” Danny cheered.
Jason knew he was going to lose, but it was good to see Danny smiling, pinging between trees like a fucking ping-pong ball with pent up energy from not having used his powers at all for more then a week. Working out all the nerves and jitters as Jason raced along behind him trying to keep up.
Jason thought it was probably an hour of flying/driving before they came to a bank of a lake, he had to turn his bike sideways and skid to not slip into the water as Danny laughed at him.
“This seems like a good place to set up camp huh?” Danny said, his feet finally touching the ground again. Another bright flash made Jason blink and Danny was his black haired, blue eyes self again. “Do you think Alfred packed us swim suits?”
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They unpacked everything Alfred had sent them, set up the tent far enough back from the lake they couldn’t be seen across it, and laughed about the amount of food he’d sent them. It was enough to feed an entire team for a week! Still it was good food, and Danny was particularly excited about a chicken soup he’d sent in a metal container that could be heated up over a fire.
Once they were unpacked Jason went to grab firewood, leaving Danny alone in the camp to take his binder off and change his shirt since that one still had jelly on it from the ultrasound. By the time he came back Danny had changed into a hoodie so his chest was barely visible, only when Danny absently rubbed it. When Danny caught Jason staring he gave the other man a shy smile and darted over to steal a kiss, taking half the wood to help Jason carry it to the fire-pit.
Jason set about making a fire while Danny went back to the lake, wading in the shallows since they didn’t have their swimsuits. It was too cool out for an ordinary human to swim anyway, though Danny would probably be fine.
Jason glanced over now and then, watching Danny’s figure as he strolled along the shore, pants rolled up and ankles swishing through the green water without a sound. He piled kindling and lit it easily, stoking the fire and adding bigger logs, sitting back and waiting for some coals to develop while he set up their little camping grill. Once he could pull out some coals he did, put the grill over them and set the food on that to heat.
When the food started to smell good Danny came wandering back over and sat down cross legged next to Jason, leaning against his shoulder. “Alfred’s the best cook in the family,” Jason said as he stirred the food, the soup which was just for Danny, and a chili and rice. “But I’m a pretty damn good cook too, if I do say so myself, you should come over to my place for dinner some time. I’d like to cook for you,” He admitted, it was always a way he showed affection.
“I’d like that,” Danny said, his eyes fixed on the fire and a small smile on his lips. His presence at Jason’s side was comforting and cool. He still seemed like he was a little bit out of it, bouncing back and forth between energy and lethargy, denial and grief probably. Jason had resolved not to say anything until after food, things tended to seem less dire with a stomach full of good food.
Once the food was steaming he used his gloves to pull the grill off the fire, nudging Danny to shuffle away so he could put it down between them. With the spoons he’d used to stir still in them.
“Do you want to share?” Danny asked, trying to hide his reluctance, which was sweet.
“If you want to, but if not the soup is all yours,” Jason assured.
“Thanks. I guess I am eating for three now,” Danny chuckled a little bitterly before he grabbed the spoon and started to eat, blowing carefully on each bite so it wouldn’t be too hot.
They ate in silence, Danny quickly finished off all the soup, which would have been enough for two people but Danny ate a lot. He’d need to eat more before bed no doubt. Alfred had still packed them why too much food but maybe there was a method to his madness anyway. Jason finished most of the Chili and then pushed the rest towards Danny who gave him a sheepish smile but finished that off too.
Jason moved the grill out from between them and Danny scooted closer to Jason again. When he lifted his arm Danny ducked under it so Jason could drape his arm over Danny’s shoulders, keeping the shorter man tucked against his side. “So, do you feel up to talking now?” Jason asked softly and Danny sighed, turning his head to hide his face against Jason’s shoulder for a moment.
“Ya,” He muttered resignedly when he came out of hiding. “It’s not really the babies this time. I mean ya I was still sort of in denial about actually being pregnant and seeing it made it real so that was a lot, but I had already mostly processed it. I want the babies, we’ll set up a nursery at the manor, I’ll have support, hell Bruce would probably even hire a nanny if we need. I’ll be able to finish school, it’s just…” He trailed off for a moment.
“You know, when I was born my dad was a little disappointed, they loved me but they’d wanted a daughter and a son. When I was assigned female at birth and they didn’t want any more kids, he was a little disappointed. When I came out as trans they were So Excited. My dad kept talking about how he knew I’d taken after him! I was going to be a ‘big man’ after all. He couldn’t seem to understand that even though I was a man it hadn’t changed my biology. They were so supportive, my mom Screamed at a teacher who made me cry misgendering me, got them fired.
“They weren’t always bad parents, there were always good days. Ya they’d retreat into their lab for days at a time and we’d have to fend for ourselves, they left guns and chemicals all over the place. I Know they weren’t good parents, but they still loved us, and I loved them. And despite everything half of me really wants them to know their grandkids, wanted my mom to be there holding his hands and have my dad come bursting through the wall because he’s so excited to be a grandpa,” Danny sniffled a little.
“I’ll be a better parent then they were by miles, but it’s sort of scary to know that love isn’t always enough. People who love you… still hurt you. It’s not fair that the good parts are all tangled up in the bad parts, and the bad parts are to bad to let anywhere near me or the babies, especially with the whole, half ghost thing.”
“Ya, it’s not,” Jason sighed, biting his lip for a moment before clearing his throat. “Before Bruce took me in, before I was an orphan, my mom was an addict. Dad was in prison, it was just the two of us. On her good days she taught me to cook, she sang me lullabies, taught me Spanish.” He trailed off and sighed. “On her bad days she was too high to move, or unconscious. She’s be that way for days until the drugs ran out, I’d make sure she ate, try and keep the place clean, hell I had to help her go to the washroom. And I did it, because I was holding on to that last good day, and hoping for the next one. Even when the good days came less and less often near the end.
“Kids love their parents, even when they don’t deserve it. When the parent loves them too a kid can forgive just about any failing and dismiss all the hurt the parents cause because ‘people who love you wouldn’t hurt you’. Truth is the people who love you can often hurt you the worst, because you let them into your head, and rationalize everything they do. So if they hurt you, that must be what love feels like.”
“What do you think love feels like?” Danny asked, voice soft and vulnerable.
“Well, for me I guess I learned what love really felt like when I moved in with Bruce,” though he was loathed to admit it. “When he’d carry me up to bed even though he knew I was only pretending to be asleep, he’d go slow so he could hold me a bit longer because he knew that’s what I really wanted. When he stayed home from patrol with me because I was sick and I wanted comfort, or remembered where my favourite gargoyle was so he could come find me when I was upset. And Alfred, teaching me to cook his family recipes and making me tea when I woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares, never seeming put out he was losing sleep.
“Love is… warm, and forgiving, willing to give you what you need without resenting it. Of course Bruce wasn’t perfect, stubborn, moralistic, self important bastard.” Danny let out an amused snort as Jason continued. “But… I know he did his best, and he never abandoned me. Even when I was dying I knew he was on his way, it sucked that he didn’t get there in time, but I never believed he abandoned me because I knew he never would.”
“I guess that’s Jazz for me. She’s only two years older than me, but she was always there, she showed me how to do just about everything. I thought it was annoying that she was always after me about doing my homework and stuff, but it means she really cared. Not just when she remembered to, or didn’t have anything better to do.
“I guess I’m a little scared of that too. Now that I have a safe home, and she’s 18, she’s going to go to university and make new friends. She knows I’m safe now, so what if she doesn’t… care as much anymore?” Danny asked.
“That’s not going to happen,” Jason said immediately. “She might be around a bit less, but she won’t care any less. That’s what siblings are like. I should know, I have enough of them,” he joked and Danny gave a wet laugh.
“Ya, she deserves to have her own life anyway,” Danny said, but he seemed calmer. They sat in a comfortable silence, watching the sunset across the lake, it was beautiful.
“Sooo, how do you think you want to decorate the nursery?” Jason asked and saw Danny smile.
“I’ll tell you in a minute, now that it’s dark there’s one more thing I have to do to feel better,” He said sardonically, ducking out from under Jason’s arm and standing. “Cover your ears,” he directed as he walked over to the lake.
Jason was confused, but he did as Danny asked as the other transformed into his ghost form. At the edge of the lake he took a deep breath and Wailed, the water exploded up around him forced back by the sound. Jason clamped his hands over his ears more firmly as the sound ricocheted around his skull, it was such a pure rage, fear, and sorrow he could Feel it bubbling in him as well, like it was more feeling than sound. Jason didn’t know how long it was before Danny stopped, collapsing to his knees and changing back into human form, breathing hard.
Hesitantly Jason uncovered his ears and after a moment Danny took a deep breath and came back over to him, collapsing next to him by the fire. “Okay for the nursery I was thinking of a celestial theme.”
They talked for a long time about what Danny wanted for the nursery at the manor. When Jason worked up the courage to suggest if they were still going strong in a few months they should set up a second nursery in his apartment. So Danny could come visit with the babies more easily once they were born, they moved on to plans for that hypothetical. They decided on a forest theme for that one, Jason was looking forward to it. He loved kids, and ya he and Danny were new but he had a really good feeling about this.
#dc x dp#danny phantom#jason todd#batman#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#trans!Danny#danny is pregnant#tw dysphoria#discussion of parental neglect#tw neglect#character study#dead on main#fanfiction
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down bad | j. potter
summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you
pairing: james potter x reader
warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it
a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x
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"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.
"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.
"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."
You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.
Even if that guy is James Potter.
James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.
Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.
"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.
He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.
He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.
She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.
You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.
You almost let out a sob.
A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?
History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.
You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.
Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.
Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.
Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.
Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.
You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.
That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.
Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.
James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.
It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.
He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.
James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.
You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.
You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.
"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.
"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.
"I will always need you, Y/N."
Somehow he makes it sound genuine.
Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.
Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.
Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?
James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.
You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.
It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.
And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#marauders fanfiction#marauders#taylor swift#ttpd#the tortured poets department
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are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri
oscar piastri x reader
warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]
request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?
note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!
It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.
Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.
By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.
You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.
Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.
“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.
Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.
“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”
Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach.
“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”
Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.
“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.
“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.
Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.
“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”
Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side.
“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.
The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body.
“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”
The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.
y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#f1 one shot#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 blurb#oscar piastri blurb#blurb#writing#fluff#pierregazly's 1.5k celebration
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I was thinking of the calling your boyfriend your husband trend on tiktok and I started thinking about the 141 boys reaction to it, so enjoy 🥰
Simon
It’s completely on accident, you’re checking into a hotel for your anniversary and it slips out, not even aware you’ve introduced him as your husband until the receptionist repeats it back to you.
“Mr. And Mrs. Riley, correct? Here’s your key card.”
Your heart skips a beat, ready to correct her when Simon eagerly takes the thin piece of plastic.
“Appreciate it. Me and the missus have a long day ahead of us.”
Fear turns to surprise, which turns to glee all in the span of seconds. The elevator ride is filled with the sounds of each floor, as well as your racing heartbeat. Simon’s tight lipped as usual, but you notice he seems much more relaxed, compared to your frantic state.
He called you missus. You might have done it on accident but there was no excuse for your boyfriend, you know him well enough to say that with confidence. He’d never joke about something like marriage if he didn’t really mean it.
Simon’s the first one to speak when you enter your room.
“So, husband? That the alias we going for?”
You rack your nerves for anything to say, eyes darting from Simon’s eyes to the floor. He can tell it was an accident, but he can’t help tease you a bit, you’re adorable when you’re shy.
“Far from the worst thing I’ve been called—suppose we keep the nickname after the vacation, yeah?”
Gaz
He gets very proud, if he was a dog his tail would be wagging faster than the eye could see. He wouldn’t doubt his new nickname for a second, loving every minute.
“Husband, yeah?” He says, an infectious smile spreading across his face. “That’s it then?”
“Mm, yes it is,” you reply, barely able to hold back your own amusement.
“Where’s the ring then?”
“I’m sure I could buy you a ring pop—“
The noise of disappointment that leaves him is criminal. “A bloody ring pop? That’s what I’m worth now?”
“Yup,” you answer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Because you’re as sweet as one.”
He huffs indignantly but doesn’t pull away from you, so you keep kissing him until he’s forced to return the favor, lips against yours.
Johnny
He’d be the first one in the relationship to call you his wife. He’d say it was an accident, but then he’d be a liar. The first time it happens is a month after you’ve been dating, he’s talking to a friend on the phone and casually says—
“Yeah, I’ve got the wife cooking me up something nice right now, can’t wait to eat it.”
—to which you turn around, stunned. For a moment you think you heard him wrong, until he turns back to you smiling like the cat who ate the cream.
You don’t question it, but you can’t deny how warm the title makes you feel. His little Freudian slips keep happening over the course of your relationship, and after a year he finally gets the courage to call you his wife—officially, this time.
Price
It comes naturally, John always calls you anything but your name and you having your own assortment of epithets for him. You two were often confused for a married couple with the way you hang off each other, so why not lean into the idea?
You’re greeted with the heavy sound of his footsteps, the jingle of keys outside and then the sight of him fills the doorway.
“Got you the mail darling—bloody junk mailers don’t know when to quit.” He says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His beard tickles your skin as he does—a welcome comfort you’ve become more than used to.
“Mm, thank you baby,” you whisper. “You’re the best husband a girl could ask for.”
“Husband?”
His lips are turned in amusement, while you’re becoming more nervous with each passing moment. You start doubting whether or not he’d be comfortable with the name, confidence waning with each second.
“Boyfriend, I mean,” attempting to backtrack but John doesn’t let you get away that easily.
“No no no, don’t start lying now,” he grins. “Go ahead, say it again for me.”
He thrives off your embarrassment, enjoying the way you hesitate to answer. “Don’t leave me waiting doll.”
“It was an accident,” you sigh in defeat. A lie, of course, one that John sees through immediately.
“Didnt sound like an accident to me,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again. “And suppose I wanted to call you my wife, what then?”
You stammer, unable to answer. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression before leaving you to your own thoughts.
#call of duty#call of duty fluff#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#price x reader#captain price x reader#john mactavish x reader#john price x reader
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Hi! How are you? First of all, I love your way of writing, it's amazing! I wish I had that magic that you have. UwU <3
Can I ask you to write a Bi-Han x Chubby!Afab!Reader?
Where the reader is Liu Kang's apprentice, but since he does not have time to train her, he takes her to Bi-Han and he mocks her for not seeming strong, but when they face each other, things change and for the first time Bi-Han meets He is attracted to her and wants her for himself. But the reader feels insecure, thinking that this was some kind of mockery. There can be a lot of fluff and a possessive Bi-Han. Please :3
Thick Thighs Can Change Lives
Prior notes: Hoi!! I’m doin fine just trying to finish the semester strong. How bout you? And thank you for liking my writing! (´・ω・｀)
Pairing: Bi-Han x Chubby! Afab reader
Warnings ‼️: KICK HIS ASS!!! AHHHH
It’s an honor to be an apprentice to Lord Liu Kang. He treats you well and always saw potential in you no matter what. Your body did not change the fact that you had a fighting spirit. There was strength in you that was hidden. Though others will doubt you they will eventually find out the truth that you are mighty.
If only Bi-Han saw that from the beginning.
You were unsure of Liu Kang’s decision to send you to the Lin Kuei for more training. He apologized profusely for not having enough time to do it himself. You understood since there were many others that he had to train. He trusted Bi-Han to take good care of you during your stay. If only the first interaction was good.
“This is the woman? Are you sure she is capable of fighting?” Bi-Han looked you up and down with a look of uncertainty.
“Trust me, Bi-Han. She is more than capable. There is a reason why she is my apprentice. Do not judge, lest ye be judged.” And he means it.
Bi-Han grumbled at Liu Kang’s response. He thinks the god is foolish for taking you in. You have proportions he hadn’t seen before on a warrior. He expects abs and flat stomachs, not chubby bellies. He circled you, checking you out from all angles and not in a good way. He pokes you to check for any muscles. You keep hearing a disappointed sigh.
“If this task is too hard for you, Bi-Han, I can always have the monks at the Wu Shi train her.”
Liu Kang’s words infuriated Bi-Han. He makes it sound like he can’t train you himself. That this task is impossible for a man like him. Forget it, he’ll take you in.
“No, I will take her in. She will be better than before. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and yanked you before you could even say goodbye to Liu Kang.
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
There were many in the Lin Kuei who questioned their grandmaster’s decisions. You were not like them, that was evident.
He didn’t even work with you at first. After about two days you had to go up to him to ask if he was actually going to train you or not. Clearly it’s not that he’s into training other cause when you found him he was watching all the other Lin Kuei assassins train.
“Grandmaster, when are you going to train me? I thought that was the reason Lord Liu Kang brought me to you.” You reminded him of his purpose.
He groaned as he remembered that you were still here. If he’s going to train he will do it separate from the clan.
“Fine, come with me.”
You followed him to a secluded area of the temple. Your heart was pumping. You were excited to show that you are capable of anything but afraid of failing. Liu Kang’s words echoed in your head telling you to focus on your actions, not the outcome. Give it your best shot and kick his butt!
“Show me what you are capable of. I hope you can show me that you are a worth opponent.” He sounded like he already had little faith in you.
From the start of the fight you were already proving him wrong. You were blocking every attack. Bi-Han was going easy on you for now but seeing as you could at least defend yourself he was hoping you would attack soon.
Hell, you were even dodging his ice attacks. He couldn’t even freeze one of your legs in place. Looks like he was wrong to think that you would be an easier target to hit.
Throughout it all you watched as he grew more and more frustrated. He set the bar too low and seeing that he was wrong was the worst thing he could have expected. Though your special move was probably way worse than having his ego be tampered with.
You finally attacked him. A palm strike to the jaw caused him to fall back. Before he could comprehend what you just did and get himself up you were already above him. You pressed down on him which put one of his legs in an uncomfortable position. You pinned his arm down before swinging your right leg behind his head. With all your strength you managed to flip both of you before locking his head in with your legs. And there you have it, you got him in a triangle choke.
This was just humiliating for Bi-Han. He didn’t think it was possible to lose to you. You had him right when you wanted him. Your legs made him feel like he was being squeezed by a vicious anaconda. The more he struggled the more he lost his breath. It didn’t stop there oh no. You started bending his arm and leg that were trapped between you two. You bent them in directions that would be impossible to achieve unless you broke his bones. His free hand came and slapped your thigh. He tapped out. He couldn’t take it.
You unraveled your legs to set him free. You were panting a bit and felt a bit sweaty. But compared to how he was now you looked like you never even fought him.
“I’m sorry, grandmaster, if that was too much.” You apologized even though you didn’t need to.
Once you were back up on your feet you stuck your hand out to help Bi-Han up. He looked up at you, taking in all your details for once. Maybe he lost too much oxygen when you were chocking him because for some reason you seem so cute right now. Yet he was still upset from being beaten by you. He didn’t take your hand but got up himself and walked away. Not a word was said from him and you were left wondering if you did something wrong.
I can guarantee you didn’t do anything wrong. Bi-Han just needs time to think of where he went wrong and what kind of woman he is attracted to. Looks like he might have an unexpected type.
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
No matter how many breaths of fresh air Bi-Han got his new stance on you didn’t change. He has enough oxygen going into his brain this new liking is not a delusion.
He was wrong but he won’t say it out loud. You have the strength of a warrior with a heart of gold. It was all hidden in that plush body of yours. What a fool he was to doubt you.
Now his eyes are always on you. Without the mindset of you being weak he sees now that there is much more to you.
Why didn’t he see it before! Just look at that cute face of yours, especially your cheeks. He wants to squish that face and not in a skull crushing way. And those legs good heavens! Those thighs could kill a man yet he would gladly put his face between them again. Your chest is a good alternative as well. He won’t deny he noticed that from the beginning but he would remind himself about it constantly. It just took him a while to realize the whole package was enticing. Screw it, let him get his hands on your tummy.
Look, Bi-Han likes his women strong. That’s one thing. But if chubby is the new strong well he won’t hesitate to take it. And don’t tell him that’s wrong he can’t be wrong two times in a row.
You did notice his stare. It was different now. You noticed one of his eyebrows would raise as he looked at you. His eyes wandered up and down. Before he could even walk over to have a word with you, you would start walking away. You were concerned he would insult you about your looks. Why else was he checking you out like that?
No one walks away from the grandmaster. You will listen to what he has to say. Bi-Han walked quickly towards you before yanking you back by your shirt.
“Where do you think you are going? Do you not see that I am trying to talk to you.” He is giving you his gentlest voice but it still feels like he will rip your spine out.
“I’m sorry, grandmaster.” You turned around quickly to look at him.
Suddenly his hands were at your face. He had a good grip on your soft cheeks, pinching and squeezing them. You looked up at him with confusion. You brought your hands up in an effort to remove his hands only for him to quickly slap them away. Bi-Han isn’t done admiring your beauty.
You thought he was being mean to you again. He was taunting you by bringing attention to your round face. This ain’t the first time something like this has happened. The only difference is that Bi-Han seems determined to look at you. He’s not saying anything which confuses you even more.
Yes, yes, she is perfect. She will look perfect standing next to me. No one will dare touch her unless they wish to feel her wrath. if anyone dares to say something negative about her weight I will make them pay for their disrespect. They will be forced to watch their hands lose function when I freeze them-
“Bi-Han, what are you doing to her?” Tomas’ voice rang out.
Bi-Han broke away from his inner monologue. He wasn’t done making plans on making you his. His eyes caught onto the sight of Tomas’ hand reaching out to grab your wrist. You looked at him in desperation as you were so confused by what was happening. But suddenly you were flung over Bi-Han’s shoulder. He did it as if you weighted as much as a kitten. He started walking away but he had something to say to Tomas.
“Mind your business, Tomas.” He snapped at his adopted brother before walking off with you.
You were humiliated by the fact that all of the Lin Kuei were watching their grandmaster carry you away. His arm was wrapped around your thighs. You didn’t see his face but he was satisfied that his arm was squeezing your thick thighs.
“Please…just put me down already. I got it you’re strong enough to pick me up.” Your disappointed voice was muffled by your hands covering your face.
“Silence. I will put you down when I want to.”
Were you silent or were you silenced?
Bi-Han brought you all the way to his office before placing you down on the ground. Don’t think you can catch your breath now because his arms quickly wrap around your waist and pull you onto his lap. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
“What are you doing?! Don’t you think I’m a little too heavy to be sitting on your lap?”
He looked offended by your words. As if you were the one who was calling him heavy. It only made his grip on you grow tighter, making sure you won’t leave now.
“Do you see me as a man who is unable to handle anything? Don’t be so foolish. Just sit here and look pretty for me as I work.” He instructed you.
Pretty? Did he just call you pretty? Maybe you hit him too hard during practice. But right now you don’t feel like disobeying any orders from him now. Even if this is a joke you rather wait to get pushed off than get off yourself and face a possible punishment. So just sit there and look your prettiest. You already are a gorgeous lady so there is no need to push yourself.
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
It’s not a joke anymore. It stopped being a joke a long time ago.
Every day since that weird interaction it’s like Bi-Han can’t keep his hands off you. He would go near you just to squeeze some part of you. It started with your arms which you really hated at first. You thought he was pointing out how he couldn’t feel muscles in that area. Wrong, he just liked the feel of it.
In general he likes the feel of you. But may the gods help anyone who tries to grab at you. Only Bi-Han can do that.
The one and only time you practiced with the others in the Lin Kuei it ended with someone’s face being smashed in and you being dragged away. Hey, he shouldn’t have smacked your stomach and called you names. He was just a sore loser who couldn’t comprehend losing to you. Well now he just lost his face privileges and respect from the grandmaster.
If anyone doubted you they had to face the fury of the Lin Kuei grandmaster. If fact they can’t even look at you at this point. If they looked at you for at least five seconds Bi-Han would start holding onto you like a child who is afraid their favorite toy will get taken away.
Wherever he went, you had to be with him. He needed to keep his eyes on you. In his mind you are already his, there is no arguing about it. You didn’t even know that’s what’s going on. It just happened.
Bi-Han loves to have you on his lap. It shows everyone that you are his now. He loves having his arms wrapped around your waist and squeezing it. Occasionally he would rest his head against your shoulder. That’s the calmest anyone has ever seen him. He would compare his hand size to your thighs. You thought it was another insult before you felt him squeeze them.
Squeezing, poking, squishing, grabbing, holding, secretly loving, that’s all he seemed to do. If you ever asked why, Bi-Han would silence you. You’re not allowed to question his actions nor hint that there was anything wrong with you. The only time you were allowed to have space was when you need to use the bathroom, eat, or sleep. And even getting him to go away so you could sleep was an issue.
You thought your saving grace would come once you heard Liu Kang would be visiting. He wanted to check on your progress and see if you wanted to return to the fire temple. He manages to make more time for you. No matter how much time you were away from him you were still Liu Kang’s apprentice.
Though that depends if Bi-Han will let you go.
One of the clansmen alerted Bi-Han of the god’s presence. Liu Kang soon came walking into the office. He was shocked to see you sitting on Bi-Han’s lap. Clearly it wasn’t fully your decision since you looked shy about it.
“I see you have gotten along with my apprentice. Is there any reason she is sitting on your lap instead of training?” Liu Kang addressed Bi-Han.
“Is there an issue with this. You brought her to me, I make the decision on what she is supposed to be doing right now.”
“I mean, I think I should have been training at this point but you were barely letting me do that.” You talked back, barely caring about what is happening anymore.
Liu Kang’s glowing eyes kept shifting between you and Bi-Han. If what you say is true, which it is, that means the grandmaster has been lacking in his duties. Though to Bi-Han he hasn’t lost anything from this experience.
“If that is the case it might be best to come back with me, my apprentice. Perhaps Bi-Han has other things he would prefer to attend to.” Liu Kang gestured for you to come with him.
The moment you tried to get off, Bi-Han pressed your body against him more. He glared at Liu Kang who looked back in shock. There is no chance in hell that he will let you walk out of this temple. No one will take his strong, chubby woman from him.
You sighed, realizing he will never give up. It dawned on you that he wasn’t making fun of you. He genuinely liked you now that you have shown your potential. You shrugged your shoulders at Liu Kang since you didn’t know what to do now. You would like more training but it might be a whole battle just to get Bi-Han off you. In a way you’re not complaining all that much.
“What is the meaning of this, Bi-Han? You have lacked in your duties to-“
Bi-Han didn’t want to hear anymore from Liu Kang. He carried you in his arms like a princess and walked out of the office. Liu Kang followed close behind him, still scolding him for his actions. All Bi-Han would respond with was a blunt no and continued walking on.
You’re left to think while this madness is going on. There is one thing you are certain you are feeling. Pride. Pride in the fact that you not only beat Bi-Han and proved your worth but proved that you are worth his affection. You changed this man’s perspective and his type. His eyes have been opened to the possibility of having a bigger figure in his arms and in his life. This is the way.
In an effort to get Liu Kang off his back he walked into his bedroom and slammed the door shut before Liu Kang could get another word out. He placed you on the bed before laying down next to you and resting his head on your chest. It’s hopeless, he’s too attached to you. I mean just look at that face. You didn’t think he could unfurrow his eyebrows. This is a moment in history!
“You’re not gonna let me go I’m guessing.” You asked.
“No.” Plain and simple from Bi-Han.
You held yourself back from chuckling. He’s clearly the possessive type. And if he can see that there is beauty in you then you will take it even if you had to beat him up first for him to see that.
“Fine, you win. Just this once.” You said softly.
Are you happy with your prize, Bi-Han?
After notes: Good amount of people don’t expect me to be strong because I’m chubby. A lot of my strength comes from my legs. But I’ve had instances where I have slapped and even punched people by accident. Literally told a story yesterday of how I punched someone I knew by accident and they folded. Anyways I was very happy to get a request like this. I hope you are happy with the outcome I did my best! I’m sorry i didn’t post yesterday I was very tired and mentally drained from all the bs. Hopefully that didn’t affect what I wrote. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#bi han#sub zero x you#sub zero x reader#sub zero#chubby reader
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just read ur gymcrush!rafe jerking off blurb… all i can think about is steamy sauna sex with rafe now 😔
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“is it okay if i join you?” you ask him gently, holding a towel around yourself while giving him the shy smile he loves so much. “huh?” he responds, not wanting to make his previous actions obvious. you point to a spot on the bench next to him, tilting your head to the side. he clears his throat and nods, gaining his composure back. you sit next to him, loosening your grip around the towel and letting it loosely hang around you. “it really does get hot fast doesn’t it?” you point out, trying your best to fill the silence.
rafe snaps himself out of staring at the peek of your chest that he’s getting to answer you. “it’s a sauna, that’s its job.” he says flatly, before noticing how your face falls. you move a little further on the bench, leaning back to stretch your arm out before wincing. “you okay?” he asks immediately. “yeah i think so. i just fucked my shoulder a little bit i think.” you say, reaching a hand behind your back to rub your shoulder. “let me see.” you look at him shocked for a moment, before turning your back to him and moving your hair out of the way. “lemme know if i go too hard.” he mumbles, placing one of his hands on your shoulder blade.
as rafe starts to give you a massage, you can feel the tension leaving your muscle. his fingers dig a little deeper into your body and you let out a soft moan. rafe freezes immediately, replaying the sound over and over in his mind. “are you done?” you ask softly, no clue what’s going on with him. he shakes his head before continuing his movements. “you uh- you distracted me.” he admits, enjoying the way your skin feels underneath his fingers. you giggle softly, looking up at him with doe eyes. “your hands feel really nice.”
“yeah?” rafe grunts, already struggling to keep his cool while watching your towel loosen from around your body. after a few moments, it begins to unravel before you catch it. “is it okay if i just take this off for a minute? i don’t want it to get in your way at all. “im not gonna complain.” he admits, leaning on one of his hands as he watches you. you blush slightly, placing the towel next to you and leaving you in just your undergarments. you turn to face him, tilting your head to the side as you watch his eyes drink in your body. “see something you like?” you joke, trying to stop the heat rising in your body. “yeah, all of it.” rafe moves closer to you as he speaks, not stopping until he’s right next to you. “you know what you’re doing don’t you? you want me just as much as i want you.” he teases, watching the way your thighs squeeze together as he speaks.
“no clue what you’re talking about.” you lie, breath hitching as his hand lightly traces over your thigh. “yea? so you don’t want me to touch you?” he asks, taking his hand away. before he can fully move away, you grab his hand. “maybe..i do want you. if i did, what would happen?” you look at him, still slightly nervous and in disbelief. “if you did, id open these pretty legs and check how wet you are for me. then id play with your pussy, letting you know just how good i am. and then id take you right here to make sure i live up to all your fantasies.” he whispers, trailing his fingers along a wet spot on your underwear.
you shudder, feeling the slight pressure he’s using. he looks at you while hooking a finger underneath the band of your panties and you nod. he pulls them down with a swift motion before using two of his fingers to swipe along your slit. “so fuckin wet for me. you really want it huh?” he teases, leaning you back along the bench as he spreads you out and watches you clench around nothing. rafe uses his thumb and presses light circles into your clit, watching how you begin to squirm underneath him. without stopping, he slips one of his fingers into you, sliding in effortlessly and making you arch your back at the intrusion. he adds another one before he begins slowly pumping his hand into you, causing you to whine loudly. “gonna have to be quieter than that baby.” he teases, speeding his movements up.
“fuck rafe, i need more of you.” you beg, grabbing onto the bench as his thumb presses into you harder. “all you had to do was ask.” he grants your wish, thrusting into you harder as he curls his fingers up slightly. he palms himself through his underwear, his towel long abandoned on the floor. he can feel you clenching around his fingers, squeezing him tightly. “that feel good huh? you like that?” he asks in a teasing tone, loving the way you react. he can feel you getting close and pulls his hand out, ignoring your complaints as he taps his fingers on your mouth, signaling for you to open up. you listen, opening your mouth and letting him shove his fingers into your tongue.
you lick his fingers clean while he uses his free hand to pull his underwear down. rafe wraps his hand around his cock, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and steadying himself by grabbing onto your hip as he lines himself up with your entrance. he stares down as he pushes himself in, drinking in your sweet moans as he stretches you out. “gotta be quieter baby. everyones gonna hear you falling apart on my cock.” you nod, biting on your lip to keep yourself from crying out as he drills into you. you can feel your release quickly approaching, already close from his actions before. “gonna cum rafe!” you moan, making him cover your mouth with one of his hands as he continues to fuck into you.
he can feel his own release catching up to him with the way you’re squeezing around him. “fuck baby. cmon, cum all over my cock. show me how good it is.” he grunts. you arch up against him, body spasming as your release finally hits you. he can feel you practically milking him as you clench around him, your hands scratching along his back as he helps you ride out your high. he can feel his stomach tighten as he spills into you, coating your insides. you both freeze for a moment, the gravity of the situation hitting you before he pulls his hand away from your mouth. “that was better than my fantasies.” you breath out, looking at him with a fucked out grin.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
#mayspeaks! ˚✧₊⁎#rafe cameron#obx x reader#obx#obx smut#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron smut
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gale & karlach
i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.
she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.
not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:
gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb
Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely.
-
Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right?
-
Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?
but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:
act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter
Karlach: Doing all right, Gale?
Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay...
devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it.
Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.
act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb
Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale?
Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely.
Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places.
Karlach: I can only imagine.
i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.
karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:
Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad?
Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms.
Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope.
Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in.
Karlach: What's he going to do?
-
Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it.
Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all.
-
Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it.
Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain.
Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off.
-
Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds.
Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option.
Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms.
-
Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?!
-
Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it.
Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.
i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").
their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:
Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?
Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first.
devnote: Like it's a well-known saying
Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard!
devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale)
Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.
Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again...
Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us.
devnote: Reassuring
Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it?
Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface.
devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore
Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach.
Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage.
devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image
Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.
Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own.
Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like?
Karlach: Yes! I like!
Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.
Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern
Gale: You can read?!
devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it
Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.
devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious
Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep.
devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby)
Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.
even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:
before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra
Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.
she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:
karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped
Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.
once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."
she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#karlach#karlach cliffgate#karlach x gale#gale x karlach#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#ch: gale dekarios#ch: karlach#vg: baldur's gate 3#series: baldur's gate#meta: mybg3#i wanted to focus on a dynamic where a friend/partner focuses on gale#bc from what i see very often#that is neglected entirely#and often focuses more or completely on what gale can do for another#anyhow i love them
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Brand New One Shot - Second Preview
I cooked a little :3c
Warning for masturbation!
You made your way up to his tower, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over in your head. Things were going well, weren’t they? He seemed so apologetic when you told him how you felt. And then he just…disappeared like he always does. You really didn’t mean to push the issue, but perhaps you came on a little strong. Plus your rescue of him was a little more than awkward. Not that you minded the closeness, even if it was fleeting. The picture of his head resting against your chest flashed in your mind repeatedly. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks once more as you were now mere steps from Lucifer’s door.
Focus, you mentally scolded yourself, can’t think about that. It was an accident! It won’t happen again so just…focus. No wonder he ran!
You stood in front of his door now, your knees somehow weaker than they were a moment ago. Those mental images really didn’t help at all. With a deep inhale, you went to knock, but you stopped short when you heard something from beyond the door. You heard your name.
What?, you thought, How…How did he know I was here? Lucifer didn’t sound angry fortunately, but the inflection in his voice made him sound almost sad. And…breathless? You cracked open the door slowly, a little embarrassed at being caught. You went to open your mouth to apologize for the intrusion, but not even a whisper left your lips. Because what you saw in that room left you completely and utterly frozen where you stood.
Lucifer, the great ruler of Hell, was propped up against the obscene amount of pillows on his bed with his pants pooled at his ankles, his very much erect dick in his hand. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen you catch him in this extremely vulnerable state.
Run, run, run, RUN! your mind screamed. Everything in your brain was telling you to shut that door and get out of there as fast as you could. But your body refused to react, you remained motionless. You were completely entranced by the scene before you. You watched as Lucifer stroked his cock, mumbling a number of curse words with your name leaving his lips like a prayer.
“Hnng, G-God damn it-ffffuuuccckk….” Lucifer mumbled, his hand gradually picking up the pace as he stoked his shaft.
You tried to wrap your head around what you were seeing, but you were coming up blank. You couldn't believe this. He’s…He’s touching himself…to me?!? How is this…? Why would he…? Your brain was a jumbled mess at this point. It was really beyond your comprehension. You felt tension pool in your stomach at the sight of him becoming undone at the mere thought of you. The sinful sounds he was making went straight between your thighs, to the point where it became uncomfortable that you weren’t giving yourself any attention. The tiniest bit of you wanted to push open that door and give him what he really desired. But before you even begin to think about acting on your carnal instincts, you watched Lucifer's hips bucked up as he came all over his hand. It took every fiber of your being to hold in a whimper that threatened to escape your throat.
Lucifer’s breathing was labored, you watched him toss his arm over his eyes and throw his head back on the pillows. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" you heard him ask. "Why am I doing this?! It’s been months now and I’ve barely had a normal conversation with her! And of course the only time I’ve really talked to her was after my damn head was forced against her…her…s-shit.” He waved his hand, a tissue appearing between his fingers. You watched as he cleaned himself up, thankful that he still hadn’t looked towards his door. Lucifer kicked himself out of his pant and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low. “And what an absolutely fantastic exit I made! “Sorry, gotta go! My dick is hard as a rock right now because of you!” Great job, Lucifer! No wonder she thinks I don’t want her here!” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t right. I need to stop being a coward and just tell her how she makes me feel…”
A small gasp escaped your lips. Fuck.
Lucifer's head shot up immediately, his panicked eyes fixating on the door. You didn't even close it behind you as you took off sprinting down the hall, praying to anyone who could hear you that he didn't see you. You didn’t stop running til you made it back to your room, slamming the door behind you. Your knees gave out from under you as you dropped to the floor. In that second, it all clicked for you. Why Lucifer seemed to avoid you at every turn, why he tripped over his words when he spoke to you, and why he practically begged you not to leave the hotel.
Lucifer liked you. Lucifer really liked you. That thought alone could have made you scream if you weren’t trying desperately to hold yourself together. And it’s not like you didn’t have passing thoughts about him. He was gorgeous, after all. But not only that, you saw how he acted with the others at the hotel. He was sweet, and silly, and fun, even though you never got to experience it first hand. Now you knew where Charlie had gotten it from.
But of course those thoughts never stayed. He didn’t like you, right? So instead of wallowing in what could never be, you thought it best not to dwell. But now…now those thoughts were coming back in full force. The aching between your legs only grew as the very fresh images of Lucifer naked and moaning in his bed flooded your mind.
There was a knock at the door.
#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer smut#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#BLUE BALL CITY BABY#I wanna post the full thing this weekend hopefully#my writing
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kook!reader and jj, in which reader gets jj a job and country club but the other kooks are pretty mean to him :( .
warnings: light flirting, fighting, rafe is jealous you like jj and not him, name calling
“so how are they treating you here?” you took a seat at the bar where jj was making a round of drinks. “how do you think?” he looked up from under the wisps of his hair. “okay, cool it with the sass. i was just asking.” he shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “look, i appreciate you getting me this job and all, but this shit blows,” jj glanced in the corner where rafe and his friends were dowing their beers, “and those assholes are the worst part of it all.” you turned around, rolling your eyes when rafe blew you a kiss.
“they’re so annoying, just ignore them jayj.” you sighed, eyeing the veins on his arms. “at least you look hot in your uniform.” jj pushed one of those fruity drinks you liked in front of you, leaning in as he did so. “you think so?” you hummed, a smile forming on your lips as he trailed his fingers down the side of your wrist. “yeah, i like-” before you could finish your sentence, a familiar, aggravating voice cut you off. “i see you’re still doing charity work for this piece of trash.” rafe took a seat next to you, fully aware of the way jj was glaring at him.
“how about you run back there to the kitchen and get us something to eat like you’re supposed to, pogue.” rafe spat the last word, his lip curling in disgust before landing his focus back on you. “do you always have to be an ass?” you shrugged him off, silently begging jj not to do what you knew he was fully capable of. “getting food isn’t in my job description, moron. i think you’d know that if you actually filled out an application.” jj winked, making rafe scoff. “why would i when we have people like you who need it more than i ever will?”
“rafe get out of here, seriously.” you shooed him, only for jj to intervene. “people like me? people who don’t have to depend on their daddy still?” you sighed when you saw rafe get up, his friends all somehow making their way over in unison. “let’s not do this, please, let’s just go jay.” you adjusted your little purse on your shoulder, motioning for jj to follow you out. “jay? you have a nickname for this loser?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “you know your parents would never approve of this scumbag.” jj reached over the bar, grabbing rafe by the collar of his shirt.
you stepped in front of rafe’s friends before they could team against jj. “and if her parents knew who you really were, they wouldn’t approve of you either. how does it feel knowing y/n will never choose you?” jj smiled. rafe was seeing red at this point. pulling his fist back, rafe swung and landed a punch square on jj’s cheek. the club then broke out into complete chaos. while rafe and jj were full on fighting with nothing but the bar between them, you were pushing rafe’s friends, telling them to let rafe and jj handle their business alone.
“what the hell is going on here?!” the director of the whole place came rushing in, his face beet red as he glared at jj. “just a little falling out, sir. they’re already done.” you flashed him a sweet smile, hoping he could just drop it. “you let go of that cameron boy right now, young man! his father is a very generous patron here,” rafe smirked as jj shoved him away, “and give me that apron, you’re done.” you sighed, shoulders falling in defeat as jj rounded the corner of the bar. this is officially the third job jj has gotten fired from on figure eight.
you followed jj as he balled up the material, chucking it in the director’s chest. “good, this job fuckin’ sucked.” you gasped, apologizing for him as you two walked out of the country club. “what the fuck?!” you stopped him, pulling his shoulder so he could face you. “look, i’m gonna do my own thing on the cut, and get money how i want to, alright? this shit isn’t for me. if you want to be mad at me for how i reacted towards rafe, fine, but i’m done with figure eight.” you watched him get on his dirt bike, pinching the bridge of your nose as he rode through the flowers.
#‧₊˚✩彡 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒#my first jj maybank post on here!!#leave jj requests <3#outer banks#jj maybank#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x reader#jj obx#jj outer banks#obx#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction
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to hell with it
pairing jung wooyoung x f!reader
word count 5k
genres angst﹒smut﹒teeniest bit of fluff here and there
warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, all lowercase bc she was supposed to be short and vibey and… that just did not happen, mentions and use of weed, very strict parents, lowkey fuckboy wooyoung lol, lots of kissing, marking, scratching, wooyoung has a fascination with reader’s tits lol, nipple play, no real foreplay, unprotected sex, cowgirl and missionary style, dacryphilia, exhibitionism kinda, quite a few references to religious-ish themes, unrequited love in a sense? i got carried away im so sorry
summary you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell.
more ok… like i said… i got carried away oopsie 😝 this was a request from my lovely wife of 20+ years @juyofans <3 i’m sorry if i strayed too far from the original idea,,, it just happened ok 🙇 also a huge thank u to @bro-atz for betaing for me i LOVE U SO MUCH!! that’s all lets keep this note short and sweet :P reblog if u enjoyed!
@atzhouse
“shit.”
the curse slips from your mouth so naturally upon the discovery that your stash is completely finished. you rummage through the drawer one more time in case you might’ve missed something, but alas, you’ve run into the worst possible scenario. no more weed.
it’s not like you were dependent on it. but it was the end of a long week and it happened to be one of those days. an edible, a long rip from your bong, or a hit from a blunt wrapped with your pretty pink rolling paper sounded like fucking heaven right about now.
you still lived at home, though, and your parents had no clue that you dabbled with marijuana, so you had to keep everything hidden in your room. unfortunately, it was just too expensive to get your own place in this day and age. and despite the fear of getting caught deeply instilled in you, you were extremely desperate.
and well, desperate times called for desperate measures…
“hey, wooyoung…” you speak into the receiver.
your relationship with the guy was complicated. it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. he’d been your plug for a couple years now, and his pretty face made it really hard not to develop a crush. every time you bought from him, you always tried to get a lot at once so you could space out how often you saw him to make things easier on your heart.
the two of you went to high school together, and the first time you reached out in regards to your secret habit was awkward. to say the least. all of your friends had purchased something from him at least once or twice, so they assured you that he was the real deal. but you had only ever mooched off of them and didn’t have the faintest idea what you were supposed to say or do. (what with having dictators for parents and the lot.)
you remember sending him a dm in the most cryptic way possible. he laughed it off, thinking about how cute it was that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. but, like every other occasion in which you’d spoken to him, he had a girlfriend at the time. the first time it was haeun, then there was jisu, and it was kind of hard to keep up with the names after that. his patience was endearing, though, and it always left you wanting more out of your conversations. (which is, understandably, what attracted you to the guy.)
he was definitely not a one-partner, commitment type of guy, and that’s all you could ever want out of someone. you thought keeping distance to halt any feelings from growing was the smartest decision. if you didn’t get close to him, it would help squash whatever flame burned beneath your chest.
but now it was time for that little crush to unearth itself, as it does whenever you see him.
“hey, y/n, what’s up?” you can hear the smile in his voice, the one that has your insides melting and your panties nearly dropping to the floor in an instant. it’s almost cocky, like he was expecting your call. and he probably was, all things considered.
“um…“ you stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip, tilting your head back. “are you free to do a drop right now?”
the digital clock on your nightstand read 9:28 PM and your parents wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, having left for the movies a little over an hour ago. (that was the only reason why you were even thinking of pulling something as idiotic as this.)
not even were you just not allowed to have boys over. you weren’t allowed to have people over period, at least not if your parents were out. in spite of being a grown adult, they still managed to enforce strict rules and curfews on you. you were breaking so many by making this fucking phone call.
Do Not Think About Talking To Boys Under Our Roof.
“yeah, actually. i have to do another in the area so that works out perfectly. i can be there in ten.” he answers and that stupid smile pops into your head again.
Absolutely No Strangers Allowed In The House Without Us Present.
“okay cool— wait, you remember my address?” your brow scrunch together, the confusion boiling up inside of you. he snorts, some shifting audible in the background.
No Alcohol Unless We Are Present, Absolutely No Drugs Allowed.
“yeah? why wouldn’t i?” he asks so nonchalantly, you almost miss it. “i’ll be there soon, babe.”
he ends the call before you can even say anything, still holding your phone to your ear. your jaw hangs open and heat begins to bloom behind your cheeks. this was exactly why you were avoiding him as long as possible. jung wooyoung was a natural flirt, and you were very delusional.
this was fine, right? all you had to do was exchange the goods and money, then send him on his way. it would be like nothing ever happened, like no one was ever here. your parents would be none the wiser and you could finally relax. it would be just like when you were sneaking around in high school, having him drop when you didn’t have a car—
fuck.
you could’ve just met him somewhere instead, huh? you didn’t have the issue of being car-less anymore. you could’ve told your parents you were running out to grab some things from the store and hid it in your bags in case they were home before you. could’ve done literally anything else except act this irrational.
This Is An Honest and Trustworthy Household — No Lying Will Be Tolerated.
maybe, subconsciously, you’ve been wanting to see him in this setting again. there was a thrill in breaking your parents rules. you supposed something special, something exciting sparked under your skin all those times you snuck into the backyard to meet with wooyoung through the side gate. but right now, you’re pacing inside your bedroom. this wasn’t the time to get poetic and reminisce about being a schoolgirl with a crush.
you were bulldozing through just about everything on your parents’ list of Do Nots and you feel like you should be more anxious about it. for some reason you’re less afraid of pissing them off. you’re entirely too concerned with looking good for wooyoung, and you don’t even hear the shrill sound of your phone ringing.
wooyoung’s contact lights up the screen, sending all sorts of panic signals to your brain. you severely underestimated how long ten minutes was, and also how long you’d been standing in front of the mirror gawking at yourself like a damn fish out of water. this was embarrassing. you were better than this, god, you were so much better than to lose yourself like this over a man. but jung wooyoung somehow made all rhyme and reason escape you like he was some sexy version of the pied piper.
before you realize it, your feet have carried you down the stairs and to the front door. on the other side stand wooyoung, his backpack slung over his shoulder. he’s dressed in a red zip up hoodies and some baggy jeans. his hair is longer than when you last saw him, long enough to have some of the strands tucked loosely behind his ears. you think you’re entranced by his visuals alone, and then he opens his mouth.
”told ya i remembered.” his words drip with that charisma that sucks you in further, deeper, into the chasm you kept trying to avoid.
”uh— c-come in,” you usher him into your house and up the stairs into your room, just in case. “my parents aren’t home, but i don’t know if my neighbors are watching or something. and just in case they get back earlier, it’s easier to hide you in here than anywhere else.”
wooyoung nods with a snort, eyes wandering around the bedroom you’ve had since you were two years old. he’s never been inside of your house before, much less inside of your room. it’s very you; various posters littering the walls, makeup and skincare products cluttered around your vanity, comfy-looking sheets.
Definitely No Boys Allowed In Your Room.
“you know, y/n, i was pleasantly surprised when you called,” he shrugs off his bag, setting it on the foot of your bed, dragging his finger along the footboard. “i was starting to miss my favorite customer.”
just about everything but standing right here sounded ideal to you. if there were miraculously a sniper stationed on the roof of the house next to yours, you hoped you were in his line of sight and he would take you out. it was as if he knew. he knew exactly what his effect on you was, and that was absolutely perfect, now wasn’t it?
“your— huh?” you’re sure you sound stupid, especially so when he laughs, unzipping his backpack to take out what he was here for. the smell alone practically recalibrates your system and reboots you. wooyoung notices.
”we’ve never smoked together, have we?” he asks, pulling out the tube he was looking for. it’s about an eighth, which is less than what you usually buy from him, but you’re in no position to complain. you shake your head ‘no’ as he hands it to you, before pulling out another and doing the same thing. you raise an eyebrow at him.
”this is—“
”no, i know,” he purses his lips with a nod, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and swiping across the bottom one. “consider it a gift, for being so loyal to me all these years.”
you guffaw in disbelief. what the fuck?
”wooyoung, you can’t possibly—“
”just let me smoke you out this once. that’s all i ask in return,” he seats himself on the edge of your bed. “and we’ll even use my stuff. you can save yours for later. i’ll make it worth your while.”
you would be cutting it really close to the time your parents were supposed to be home. but he was so tempting. and you were so weak. so, so pitifully weak.
”okay…” you let yourself say. you let yourself divulge just this once. “but, remember—“
”yes yes, your parents. do you think this is my first rodeo?” he laughs, pulling out a little plastic baggie that appears to have pre-ground weed in it. almost like… he was anticipating this? when he reaches into his backpack for what you assume is wraps, you jump to grab your pink rolling paper. you’d been so excited to use it, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.
batting your lashes at him is the only way you know how to convince him, though it doesn’t really take much convincing. your rolling skills still weren’t the best, despite doing this as long as you have, so you watch in awe as wooyoung does it. his fingers move expertly, and you have to blink away the thoughts threatening to overthrow the sane ones that have been struggling to keep afloat.
wooyoung fishes for the lighter in his pocket, red like the color of his jacket. he lights the blunt and holds it carefully between his fingers. you think he’s going to take the first hit, but then he’s holding it to your lips, gesturing for you to do it. “ladies first.” he throws in with that obnoxiously attractive laugh of his. you hesitantly follow his lead, sitting beside him, then inhaling and filling your chest.
your exhale isn’t as graceful as you hoped it would be, a couple coughs coming out of you, but it was a strong hit. he rubs his free hand up and down your thigh to soothe you, hitting it himself. he’s definitely a lot more experienced than you, in what he does and how he does it, breathing it out into the atmosphere. your room is a little foggy now and you have half the mind to crack open a window, however, you’re hyper aware of his hand on your thigh. and you don’t want it to go away.
If Any Of These Rules Are Broken, You Risk Being Kicked Out.
it’s calm for a few minutes, just the two of you rotating the blunt in comforting silence, his hand still branding its place on your thigh. and then his thumb starts to move. it circles into your bare skin gently, kneading mindlessly. you almost let out a whine, but you catch yourself, concealing it as a cough instead.
“you like me, don’t you, y/n?” wooyoung asks, puffing out a thick white cloud and pouting. “that’s why you buy a lot from me at once. that’s why i sometimes only see you once a month.”
the question catches you so off guard, you almost grab the pink blunt by the spark. he sets it in your ashtray, conveniently placed on one of your bedposts. you stare at him blankly, because how fucking perceptive do you have to be to figure that out? your crush was probably a little more than obvious, sure, but the avoidant tendency you had couldn’t possibly be linked to that. not unless he truly knew you like the back of his hand.
he leans back onto his palms with a snicker, carding his fingers through his hair. the way he’s positioned allows you to glimpse at a bit more of his chest from the partially unzipped jacket. the only thing you see is that it’s bare, and your brain short circuits. it was already frying itself when he called you out, now there wasn’t a single functioning cell up there.
“i’m high like sixty percent of the time, i see everything. i know everything.” he answers your unspoken inquiry. and well, that may be true, but it’s not like you’re doing much to refute with the way you’re ogling at him. (you were a horny high, unfortunately.)
“what—“ you swallow, suddenly all too aware of how close you’re sitting, of how his grip on your thigh is a little more primal. “what if i said no? what then?”
“i’d think you were a liar,” he smiles, that fucking smile you can picture in your head even through a phone call. “and i don’t like being lied to.”
“so it’s a good thing i haven’t said no yet, right?” you breathe, voice entirely too stable for the situation. his hand rises higher on your thigh, the tip of his index finger brushing under your shorts. you glance down at it, eyes already heavy lidded as they observe the way it drags across your skin. fuck.
“mhm,” he hums, gauging your reaction to his touch. “it’s very good.”
you’re losing your patience the longer you sit there, tortured by wooyoung’s hand searing on your thigh. your heart seems to beat faster and you feel like you can tell with the rise and fall of your chest picking up in speed. his lips on yours is all that you want, all that you need, and under this spell (the intoxication swimming through your bloodstream), you’re willing to accept the consequences that may come with it.
a gasp escapes you when his nail scrapes along the side of your leg with the pressure of a feather. it’s overwhelming, to say the least. you want more and more and more, and then so much more until you can’t take it, but part of you is still insecure that he’ll leave you strung out on a clothesline if you indulge. you’re beyond thinking about the repercussions if you’re caught. you’re focused on the repercussions of being hurt if you give in.
but enough is enough.
placing your hand over his own, you slip it under your t-shirt where you’ve been braless this entire time. wooyoung’s eyes widen and you grab one of his hoodie strings, yanking him closer to you. your noses brush and your eyes meet, a silent ask for permission to finally play into what you’ve both been waiting for.
you don’t really give him a second to rethink it.
your lips connect in a rough, messy kiss that has you believing in the existence of a god. one that’s granted what you’ve been dreaming of for years. maybe after this you’ll start praying before bed again, especially if it always rewards you this well.
his mouth slots against yours like it’s the missing piece of a puzzle, your tongues tangling and your teeth nearly clashing. wooyoung’s hand on your chest regains its own control, squeezing your breast and flicking his thumb over a perked nipple. his other hand grips your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your knees dig into the mattress, hands cupping under his jaw and then entwining in his hair.
you sigh into his kiss, obsessed with this length on him. you’re sure he feels the same when he groans after you tug on it, deepening the kiss if possible. the sigh turns into a moan when he guides your hips into a circular motion, grinding you down on him to create a bit of friction and get the ball rolling.
he knows you don’t have a lot of time, maybe an hour tops, but fuck he wishes he could take his time with you. he wished he could explore your body and learn every single thing you liked and didn’t like, and use it all to his advantage. his senses are heightened so he’s keenly aware of your every sound, of each whine that escapes you.
wooyoung’s mouth travels from your own, along your jaw, and down your throat, nipping and sucking so he leaves his mark on you wherever he can. your lips part with a soft moan when he finds the sensitive spot on your neck. his hand is still in your shirt, kneading and massaging your tits like it was second nature for him.
your high has reached its peak, and you’re starting to get light headed from how good everything feels. if he didn’t touch you where you needed him most soon, you feared you might finish prematurely, and after all that you’ve been through to get to this point, you really cannot handle that tonight. thankfully, he seems to read your mind.
“i would love to make up for lost time, but i don’t think we can right now,” he pants into your skin, hands everywhere but somehow nowhere all at once. “let me just—“
“stop yapping and just fuck me, wooyoung, you’re wasting precious time,” you groan, going straight for the zipper of his jacket. you push the red material off of his shoulders in one go, practically pawing at the button of his jeans. he laughs at your impatience, but knows you’re right.
“well, when you put it like that, i don’t feel bad for the disgusting things i wanna do to you,” he teases, helping you pull your shirt over your head. “gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna wanna see me more than once a month.”
the call out is crazy, but you don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him, head tossing back when he takes one of your tits into his mouth. you scrape your nails down the expanse of his chest and abdomen, a reprieve to the static buzzing throughout your body with wooyoung’s lips all over you. his teeth sink into your collarbone and you nearly lose your sanity. this was it, there was no going back now that you’ve fallen under his spell.
his skilled fingers make quick work removing your shorts and you’re so beyond restless, that he has a bit of trouble getting them down your legs. he stills your hips firmly, practically scolding you when he says, “sit still, pretty, i’m not going anywhere.”
it’s a weird reaffirmation, and in a way it calms your erratic mind. you finally let go of those reservations and allow yourself to submit to these feelings you’ve harbored for years. the heat of wooyoung beneath you is enough to make you squirm again, needing him inside of you before you start crying. (though judging by what he’s said so far, you think he’d like that.)
“god, i need you so bad,” you whine, lips locking with his once more. you speak the words into his mouth and they hold all the subtlety of an excavator, desperation hanging off of each syllable. “please…”
you can feel, rather than see, the conniving smile that graces his features, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he’s dangling your desire in front of you like a ball of yarn with a cat, the bed of his nails dragging along your hips slowly and tortuously. you reach down to cup his erection through his boxers and that’s what spurs him on, dropping his mischievous act in favor of gifting you what you’ve been asking for so nicely.
wooyoung pushes your underwear to the side, kicking off his boxers so he’s bare for you. part of you is way more excited than you should be to fuck him raw, for the first time nonetheless. he leans back slightly and watches as you hover over his cock, sitting on it gently. he’s definitely on the longer side, longer than the other guys you’ve been with— not that there were very many to compare him to. he fills you up just right, tapping that sweet crook of your pussy when he sheathes entirely.
the moan that breaches the sound barrier fights itself from deep in your chest, tickling his ears and forcing out one of his own. his grip on your hips tightens as you begin to move. it’s more of him moving your body for you, not that you’re complaining at all. less work for you.
with each bounce on his cock, your bed squeaks and it wouldn’t be such a problem if you didn’t also hear the front door open downstairs. your eyes widen almost comically, meeting wooyoung’s with a fear so intense that it nearly scares him too. gratefully, he’s been in this situation before. he holds a finger up to his lips to shush you, simultaneously flipping the two of you so your back is flat on the bed and his feet are planted on the floor.
you’re glad you had the clear mind to lock your door when you came up to your room. you don’t know if it’s because it’s wooyoung, or maybe you’re just into it, but you feel yourself getting more turned on as he continues to fuck you despite your parents being home. he covers your mouth with his hand, rocking his hips into yours with a purpose. his free hand slithers between the two of you, thumb rubbing calculated circles into your clit.
”take it,” he rasps into your ear, nipping the lobe softly; a contrast to what’s tumbling out of his mouth. “take it like the good girl you are.”
at that same moment, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. wooyoung doesn’t stop, in fact, he speeds up his pace, pushing your thigh to your chest so he plunges deeper into your cunt. he’s evil, pure evil.
”y/n, are you in there?” your mother asks.
”y-yes,” you gasp, willing your voice to stay steady. “i was getting ready to go to s-sleep.”
“you sound off… are you feeling okay?” she expresses her concern and you look to wooyoung for help.
you bite down harshly on your lower lip when he leans down to suck on one of your tits instead, still very roughly snapping into you. he urges you to say something anyway, so you can at least get them to leave you alone. “y-yes! i’m fine! i was just looking f-for my pajamas!”
he laughs lowly so only you can hear, gazing at you through his lashes and whispering, “should we tell her they’re on your floor?”
your mother doesn’t question you any further. ”okay… goodnight, sweetheart.”
”goodnight!”
her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from your door. the shit-eating grin on wooyoung’s face contributes to the growing ache in the pit of your stomach more than it pisses you off. unfortunately he just had that effect on you. it was hard to be mad at him when he made you feel like you were lit ablaze, fire burning all the way to the tips of your fingers.
“look at you, sweetheart,” you hate that the pet name has you clenching around his length. his lips trail down your body, worshiping it like you were his own personal goddess. “you’re taking my cock so perfectly.”
if you could scream, you would. you’d be as loud as possible so your whole block knew who was fucking you this good. you’d chant his name like a prayer, which was ironic considering he was, in a sense, more like an incubus. you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell. the way he lures you in, like the serpent with eve in the garden of eden. he has you turning your back on all forms of reason.
but this inebriation, this sweet poison coursing through your bloodstream as applies practiced pressure to your clit, has your whole being soaring. you could care less about the trouble that comes with it, especially when it has your back arching off of your mattress and into his chest.
your lips pry open in a silent moan when he presses up against that same spongy nook in your pussy. tears well in your eyes as they roll back, spilling down the sides of your cheeks. wooyoung kisses them away and fucks into you harder, inching closer and closer towards what you’re already on the precipice of.
having gone nonverbal after nearly getting caught, it requires so much energy for you to croak out, “‘m so close, woo, so so close…”
he hums approvingly, back at your mouth now. his lips mold with yours so smoothly and your fingers tangle in his hair so easily. you want this forever, to be his in more ways than one. but after tonight, you don’t know how likely that is to happen, and you’ll let yourself be satiated by this one time.
you’re lost in the sensation of his kiss, disappearing in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your cunt without restriction. and maybe this would’ve been so different had you not been high. maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all had you been sober. your vision is hazy and your head is clouded, but you’ve never felt so liberated.
wooyoung grazes his nose against yours, a stark contrast in the behavior he’s exhibited tonight. even as he does so, his lower half is still pounding into you without mercy. and for some reason, that tenderness is what has you slipping through the cracks. your orgasm washes over you with no warning, crashing and colliding into your being almost violently.
the fluttering of your walls around his cock has wooyoung finishing right behind you, lashes skimming the tops of your cheeks in butterfly kisses that prolong the climax of your release. it’s much more intimate than you expected, your heart swelling and your body shivering with its implications. he slows his pace to something steady, something that just metaphorically holds your hand through your orgasm.
as you recover from the weight of it all, you realize that you’re still crying. wooyoung attempts to swipe away your tears with his thumbs, but when he notices that they aren’t stopping, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. he slides out of you and back into his boxers, scouring your bedroom floor for your t-shirt. he sits you up gently and cups your jaw in his hand.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, uncharacteristically serious. you’re used to him being playful and joking about everything, so for him to show genuine concern about your emotions means a lot. a lot.
“i’m okay— i’m fine, i’m just being weird.” you dismiss his worries though, since it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything and you don’t want to guilt him into anything just because your crush is a little heavier than the schoolgirl crush he’s made it out to be. he shakes his head. he’s not having any of that.
”no, you’re upset about something. don’t water yourself down like that.” you don’t like that this is fueling your delusions, don’t like that you want him so much more than you thought you could. and maybe you could’ve stopped yourself, had you not looked at him. your gaze traces from the beauty mark under his eye to the way his hair frames his face.
“i want something i can’t have,” is what you settle on, swallowing down that bitter pill that you’ve been avoiding tonight. “and i think i’m finally coming to terms with it.”
wooyoung searches your expression for thicker substance, as if that will hint towards a clearer answer than what you’ve given him. he finds it in that painfully sad smile of yours. he finds it in the heartache swirling in the pools of your irises. you know he didn’t mean to lead you on. it’s not his fault, really. you understood what you were getting yourself into. none of the blame can be placed in his hold, because it doesn’t belong to him.
”i should go,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “before either of us get into any trouble.”
you watch as he dresses himself quickly and exits through the window, taking your heart along with him. but it would be okay. you wouldn’t have to see him for another month anyways.
at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you reignite the blunt sitting in your ashtray.
© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#atzhouse#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez wooyoung#ateez jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung x reader#jung wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung smut#yunhoszn
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