#this is in my walking to work playlist and i don’t know how to show emotion when not in conversation
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Was It Something I Said?
Part 5 of the "Anyone Else But You" series
Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader
Summary: It gets harder and harder for you and Kai to pretend like there isn't something going on between the two of you.
Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst, stylist!reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni!!!!), reader is insecure, miscommunication, alcohol, injuries
A/N: ahhh this series is almost over!!! i'm gonna miss it so much, but there's still plenty to come :-)
FIC INSPIRED PLAYLIST <3
“Did I fuck it up again?
Are we destined to be friends?
I wanna give you more than that”
—Be Around Me, Will Joseph Cook
Kai and the boys have been in Japan for two days now, but with the amount of times that he has you on the phone, it feels like he never even left. Even if he refuses to talk about what happened at the album party, things are going pretty well between you and him.
You’re about to head out the door when your phone rings. You don’t even need to check the caller ID.
“Y/N, you didn’t call! The show’s about to start and you didn’t call!” Kai’s voice rings out of your phone’s speaker. While you can tell he’s mostly joking, he’s also a little worked up.
“Kai, we just talked, like, two hours ago. You know I have that date tonight.” Oh, he knows.
“Yeah, but I like when you call right before I’m about to go on stage. You’re my good luck charm.”
“You’re just being superstitious.”
“I wish you could see me pouting right now.” His sad puppy dog visuals pop into your head.
“Ugh, fine,” you relent. “You’re going to do amazing, Hyuka. Fighting!”
“That’s my girl!” he laughs, immediately ready to give his all on the stage. “I miss you so much.”
His affection catches you off guard and you go quiet.
“Hello?” he asks. “Y/N, are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Call me back so I can know how it went, okay?”
“You know I will,” he assures you. There’s obvious disappointment in his voice.
“Hueningie, it’s time to go!” you hear Taehyun call in the background.
“I have to go. Bye. Have fun on your date!”
“Bye,” you say. He ends the call and you feel an ache in your stomach. You miss him too, so why couldn’t you have just said it back?
When you finally get out the front doors of your building, Seongjin’s already waiting for you, flowers in hand. You note his outfit, something similar to what you have pinned on your “boyfriend manifestation” moodboard.
“Hey,” he says, holding the bouquet out to you. “These are for you.”
“They’re lovely,” you smile, bringing them to your nose to sniff them. You love the smell of roses. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”
“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Seongjin’s hand finds its way into yours. He’s bold and romantic, even dressing exactly how you’d like him to. He’s checking off all of your boxes, and yet something feels off.
As the two of you walk towards the city’s center, you actually have no clue what he’s planned for tonight until he stops outside of a restaurant that you’ve had on your bucket list for years now.
“You’re joking!” you say in disbelief. “You have to get a reservation months in advance to eat here, and even then it’s impossible.”
“I called in a few favors,” he grins, holding the door open for you. You blush, wondering what you’ve done to deserve even a fraction of the effort he’s gone through.
The dinner’s going okay. There’s just something about the way that Seongjin’s meticulously planned everything, even his responses to your small talk, that makes you suspicious. He feels too perfect, almost unreal.
You find yourself focusing more on the delicious food than on any of what he’s been saying.
“You know,” he starts, “I only went to that album party because I knew you’d be there.”
The hint of Seongjin speaking in a less rehearsed way grabs your attention. You look up to see him grinning.
“No, you didn’t,” you laugh, dismissing him. “You probably didn’t even know who I was before Yeonjun introduced us.”
“Of course I did. I’ve thought you were cute for a while now. The way you’re always running around with your arms full of clothes. I can’t wait to debut so you can dress me up.”
You can’t believe that anybody had even noticed you around the building, let alone taken a romantic interest. If only somebody else felt that way.
“Well, does that mean you’re not a big fan of TXT?” you ask, sipping your wine. You’re mostly joking, but also curious what his honest opinion of the group is.
“I mean, obviously, I think my uncle makes great songs for them. But besides Yeonjun, I don’t think they’re the kind of guys I’d really hang out with, you know?”
Your face heats up at his answer and your energy shifts. “No, I don’t know. Care to explain?”
“The other guys just seem so dorky. Not to mention half of them were wasted at a work event. Like that Huening kid whose outburst interrupted our conversation. What was that about anyway?”
“It’s none of your business,” you scoff, setting your silverware down. “And he’s not a kid. He’s almost twenty-two.”
“Look, Y/N, I know you’re close with them. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”
“You’re right, we don’t,” you say, standing up and gathering your things. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
On your way home, you start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake blowing off someone so well connected, but the way he talked about your friends makes your blood boil.
Then again, things had been going just fine before then. Maybe you should’ve just smiled and nodded like you usually do. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get asked on another date again, let alone one that was planned so well.
Suddenly, your phone rings and for some reason, you answer. “What do you want now, Kai?!” you snap into the speaker.
“Whoa,” an unexpected voice replies, dragging out the word. “Actually, it’s Yeonjun.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you groan, embarrassed at your attitude. “Hi, Jun.”
“So, I’m guessing your date didn’t go very well?”
“I think I’m going to get fired,” you huff, finally reaching your building again.
“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know. He’s handsome and thoughtful and everything I could ask for really, but there wasn’t any sort of spark. Plus he called everyone in the group except you dorky, and that’s when I just got up, thanked him, and left.”
“Everyone else is dorky, Y/N. You really couldn’t wait until the end of dinner because of that?”
“Fine, it’s stupid when I say it out loud. But the damage is already done,” you sigh, digging through your purse for your keys.
“I’m sure he’d reconsider if you apologize,” he reasons with you. You’re not sure that you actually have anything to be sorry about.
“I shouldn’t have to! He was making fun of Kai!” That’s it, you realize. That’s the reason you’re so upset. Of course this is somehow about him.
“Ah, I see now,” Yeonjun says, dropping the issue. “Well, hopefully you won’t run into him at work much.”
“Hopefully,” you agree. “How was the show?”
“It was amazing,” he muses. “I really played off the crowd’s energy, and they loved my solo stage.”
“That’s awesome, Jun,” you smile back. Ever since you and Kai have grown closer, it’s felt like Yeonjun has taken a backseat. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Soobin tried to do the Water challenge,” he laughs. “We all ran to cover him up, though. Beomgyu played the guitar, and MOA kept mentioning how Taehyun looked like Ash Ketchum.”
“Maybe you guys need to do a Pokémon concept,” you think out loud. You don’t fail to notice that Yeonjun has conveniently left out Kai from his recap, as if he’s testing to see whether you’ll bring him up first.
“Would I get to be a fire type trainer?” Yeonjun asks. So, he really isn’t going to mention how Kai did tonight. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to ask about him.
“Yes, of course. I think Soobin would be water, Beomgyu grass, and Taehyun psychic. Actually, wait. Maybe Beomgyu would have fairy types.”
“And Kai?” Yeonjun finally relents. You breathe out in relief at the mention of him.
“He’d be electric,” you decide. “Or normal. Whichever ones are the cutest, really.”
“You wanna know how the concert went for him, don’t you?” he asks.
“No, it’s okay, Jun,” you brush him off. “We can talk about whatever you want.”
“Y/N. It’s cool. I’ve just been messing with you.” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone.
“Oh,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Well, yes, then tell me how he did.”
Yeonjun sucks in a breath. “First off, I don’t want you to get worried.”
“Okay? Why would I be worried?”
Yeonjun hesitates before answering you. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Your stomach drops.
“What?! Is that what you were hiding from me?”
“I knew it would make you upset, Y/N. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably just a sprain, alright?”
“But he’s hurt,” you sigh. “Is that the reason you called me and not him?”
“Can’t I just want to hear my dear friend’s voice and ask how her date went?”
“Mhmm, sure.” You side eye him through the phone, plopping down onto your bed. You’re too tired to change out of your date clothes.
“Okay, fine,” he continues. “Kai did ask me to call you while the doctor checks him out. He knew it would probably be all over social media and didn’t want you to worry.”
“It’s probably my fault he injured himself,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “I hope it’s not too bad.”
“Y/N, he’s fine,” Yeonjun assures you. “And how could it possibly be your fault? We aren’t even in the same country right now. The stage was probably just wet because of the rain from earlier.”
“I think I made him upset right before you guys went on stage. He said he missed me and I didn’t say it back, but I think he wanted me to.”
“Hmm, I guess he did seem a little down now that you mention it.”
“Well, tell him I said sorry.” Knowing that he was noticeably off tonight because of you makes you feel horrible. If you had just said it back, he probably could’ve focused on the show better.
“I mean, if you want to wait and tell him yourself, he’ll probably be back any second now.”
“I don’t really feel like talking anymore. Night, Jun. I’ll see you later.” Before Yeonjun can say bye, you’ve already hung up. You’ve never been more confused over your emotions than tonight.
Throwing a pillow over your head, you scream into it. Your love life is in shambles and all you can think about is Huening Kai’s stupid, possibly-sprained ankle.
—————-
When Kai’s plane lands, you’re the first person he wants to see. Before he even left, he made sure that you had a key to the apartment, something Yeonjun was always too lazy to do.
You haven’t brought up the disaster of a date you went on while he was away, and to your relief, he hasn’t asked about it either. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that it happened.
Getting him to agree to watch the new Mean Girls remake for your weekly movie night was much easier than you expected. You had even prepared a whole speech for why he should relent even though it was supposed to be his choice tonight.
“It’s a musical,” you reasoned. “You’ll like it!”
You were very, very wrong. The movie was horrible, but at least that meant that the two of you could hate-watch it together.
“Those lyrics…” he starts, rubbing his temples as the closing credits played.
“And the costumes!” They were not going to age well.
“That was really bad,” he laughs. “That’s the last time I’m letting you pick when it’s my turn.”
“I have a feeling I’ll still be able to charm you in the future,” you say, batting your eyelashes.
“That is so not fair.” He crosses his arms. “Why are you so cute?”
“It’s my superpower,” you say, grinning. A few months ago, you would’ve never said something like that, but Kai makes you feel so much better about yourself.
The way you’re looking at him makes him blush, and he glances away hoping you haven’t noticed. His gaze focuses on the clock on the wall.
“Oh, Y/N, it’s past two.” Kai says. Time always seems to disappear when you’re together. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
Thunder booms outside the window and you can hear raindrops hitting the roof.
“That might be a bad idea. I can just call a car,” you say, grabbing your phone. He stops you.
“Just stay here,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You can’t sleep on the couch,” you disagree. “Yeonjun will think we’re mad at each other.”
“Well, if we sleep in here together, he’ll probably start planning our wedding.”
“I guess we’re losers in this game, huh?” you say, immediately cringing at the pun. The two of you exchange glances before cracking up.
Kai always takes longer to stop laughing than you. “Okay, how about this. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says, still giddy.
“But it’s your bed! I can sleep on the floor.”
“I am not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re my guest.”
“This is stupid, Kai. Yeonjun doesn’t know the difference whether one of us sleeps on the floor or in the bed. We might as well just share.”
“But you snore, remember?”
“There’s actually no real evidence to that claim,” you refute.
“Well, it’s a twin sized bed. I might crush you.”
“I don’t need that much space. We can even sleep head to toe, if you want.”
“My feet stink. Your feet stink.” The effort he was going through to not share a bed with you was eating away at you. You’re sure he’s slept with his group mates plenty of times before, so what difference did it make?
“Oh my god! Fine, sleep on the floor.” You throw a pillow and one of his many plushies his way, turning on your side to face the wall.
“Are you mad at me?” he asks from behind, his voice now quiet and careful. To be honest, you’re not quite sure whether you’re being serious or not.
You turn over to look at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, petting the plushie’s head.
“Kai,” you sit up. “Kai, look, I’m sorry. I’m not mad.”
“I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m around you.”
“You’re not. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t want to.” You cup his cheek, running your thumb over one of his moles. “I promise.”
Yeonjun isn’t afraid to check you when you’re in the wrong, but Kai is too sweet to deal with any sort of confrontation. It’s something you’ve been having to adjust to lately.
“We can share the bed. I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was a bad thing,” he says. Sometimes you think he can read your mind.
“Okay,” you say, making room for him. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to you, making sure to leave a big enough gap so he doesn’t touch you. Even in the dark, it’s obvious that he’s lying halfway off the mattress.
“You can come closer,” you say. God forbid he falls onto the floor in the middle of the night and it’s your fault for hogging all of the bed.
He moves inward, your faces so close that your noses are nearly touching. You could probably count his freckles from here.
Sure, every once in a while, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder or he’ll lay his in your lap, but this is much more intimate. Suddenly, your heartbeat feels too fast to fall asleep anymore.
“Y/N,” Kai whispers, although he already has your full attention. You like the way he says your name. His fingers grip your waist under the sheets, bringing you even closer.
You tremble under his touch, his eyes locked on yours. This is a dangerous game.
In seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours, desperate and hungry. You’ve been kissed by boys before, but never like this. You can’t get enough of him.
You run your fingers through his hair, still soft even after several sessions of bleach. Like that night in the cab, you feel him hard against you, except now it’s intentional. It feels good.
Kai climbs on top of you, finding his way between your legs without breaking the kiss. You wonder how often he’s done this.
“We shouldn’t,” you breathe as he presses kisses along your collarbone, although it’s lost between your heavy sighs.
His hand grazes the waistband of your shorts. Visions of him doing the same with other girls—specifically the one from that morning—pop into your head. Panicking, you pull away from his kiss, using all of your strength to push him off of you.
“Y/N?” he asks, his lips puffy and his brows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go,” you say, tugging down the hemline of your t-shirt, which had ridden up during the exchange. You hop off the bed and attempt to find your sneakers in the dark.
“Please don’t go,” he pleads with you, grabbing onto your wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was stupid.”
You turn back to him, tears welling up in your eyes. “It was stupid?”
“No! That’s not what I meant. I just—I don’t want to do anything that could ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how much I wanted to and no matter how good it felt.”
“It felt good?” you say, stepping towards him. It’s a relief to know he at least enjoyed it as much as you did.
“Really good,” Kai admits. “But it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t risk losing you.”
“Right.” It’s a really good point. “I don’t want to lose you either.”
“So… no kissing.”
“No kissing,” you agree.
“Anything else off the table?” He asks this in a way that you can’t tell if he’s flirting with you or not. You decide to take the risk and step closer to him.
“I think cuddling is fair game. It would be too great a loss to our friendship.” You hold his hand.
“Mhmm, definitely.” He helps you climb back onto the bed before following suit, pressing his chest to your back, enveloping you in his warmth.
“You know, if I had you around in the wintertime, I’d save a lot on my heating bill,” you point out.
“Go to sleep, silly,” Kai laughs, nuzzling his head into the nook above your shoulder.
“Fine. Goodnight,” you yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispers, although you’re already sound asleep, your soft snores filling the room.
—————-
When you wake up, Kai is gone. He’s left a note on the bedside table that reads: Went to get breakfast. Be back soon :-)
You stumble into the living room, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streams through the balcony doors. Yeonjun sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and watching footage from the group’s latest dance rehearsal.
“Be honest, did you and Huening fuck last night?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Come on, Y/N. I heard some suspicious shit when I went to the kitchen to grab water and unless he’s doing some magical switcharoo, you’ve been the only girl around for the last few months.”
“Is this some weird cross examination? Are you going to compare my story to his?” You try not to smile at the notion that Kai has stopped seeing other girls, but it makes you giddy.
“I wish. He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Yeonjun huffs.
“Well, if you must know, we made out for a few minutes. I panicked. He panicked. We both agreed to never do it again. End of story.”
“That’s no fun.”
“It’s not, but it prevents us from doing something we might regret and breaking up the entire friend group.”
“Do you like him like that?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“It kind of does, Y/N. I’m pretty sure that boy is head over heels in love with you.”
The thought of Huening Kai being in love with you stops you dead in your tracks. Your Kai, secretly pining for your affection? You decide that it’s nothing more than a fantasy.
“That’s impossible,” you shrug. “It was just a moment of weakness between two friends. Nothing more, okay?”
Before you can discuss this any further, Kai is walking through the front door, coffee and pastries in hand.
“Y/N, you’re awake! I was scared I’d have to get you out of bed myself. Yeonjun was warning me how grumpy you are in the mornings.”
“She’s a monster,” Yeonjun says. You flick him on the side of the head. “Ouchie.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he giggles, unpacking enough doughnuts to feed an army. “I didn’t know which one you wanted, Y/N, so I just tried to pick ones I thought you’d like.”
“I love honeydew, so you picked well,” you say, taking a bite of one with bright green filling. “Mmm! Where’d you get these?”
“Old Ferry Donut. It’s across town, but totally worth the trip. I go with my sisters all the time. You should come with us next time.”
“Ooh, introducing Y/N to the family. It’s getting serious,” Yeonjun teases. Kai shoots him a dirty look. He takes the hint, grabbing a couple of doughnuts on the way back to his bedroom.
“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Kai sighs.
“Yes, but he’s our dick,” you insist, trying not to let him ruin the moment.
“I suppose that’s true,” he laughs. It always makes you feel good about yourself whenever you manage to cheer him up. Usually, that’s his job with you. “I’d really like for Lea and Hiyyih to meet you, though. I think you’d all get along super well.”
“Then let’s set something up. I’m free all day,��� you say, your mouth full of food.
“Really, Y/N?” Kai asks. You nod in agreement and his eyes light up at your enthusiasm. “This is awesome! I’ll text them right now!”
Maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.
—————-
Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis
P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3
#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai#huening txt#txt#tomorrow x together#txt imagines#txt fic#txt hyuka#hyuka x reader#txt x reader#txt fluff#txt angst#hueningkai fluff#hueningkai angst#hueningkai imagines#hueningkai smut
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more than friends ; lando norris + part ten
In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.
masterlist - playlist
fem!y/n x lando norris
warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.
requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things
part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine
“You’re insane,” Oscar tells his teammate when he sees you walking towards Lando and him. “Actually insane,” he mutters when he gets an even closer look on you. When you feel Oscar his eyes on you, you know for sure what he’s looking at. He looks at the same thing that everyone else is looking at when they see you. Lando his love bites. Why did he even leave them so out in the open? You tried to cover them up with make up, but it didn’t work. If you brought a turtle neck with you, you would have worn it for sure right now. But since you’re in another hot country, you only have summer clothes with low necklines. Which means that everyone can see the marks on your skin that Lando made two days earlier. You curse him for leaving them on this place, but you continue to walk closer to him.
“Insane?” Lando asks Oscar. He notices the way his teammate looks at you.
“Is this to show Pierre that she’s taken or something stupid like that?” Oscar continues to scold Lando. He didn’t even think about it like that, but now that he does… The hickeys might help with Pierre backing off a bit. “You can’t claim something you don’t own,” Oscar sighs, “just remember that before you do more stupid shit.”
Before Lando can say anything to Oscar, you’re already standing in front of them. He notices the way you try to cover the hickeys with you hair, but he stills sees the red love bites. Now that he thinks about it, let everyone see them - maybe then everyone will figure out that you belong to him.
“Hey baby,” Lando greets you.
“Don’t baby me, I’m mad at you,” you sigh, “I should have brought a turtleneck with me. Everyone is looking at me.”
“Sorry,” Lando jokes. He watches around you and notices the way people are watching at you. You’re right. Everyone is paying attention to you. He notices some press workers as well. Normally the track isn’t busy on Wednesdays, but today seems different. He hears cameras clicking. Are people taking pictures of you? He starts to stress a bit. Lando pulls you closer to himself and drapes his arm around your shoulder, using it to hide your hickeys a bit more.
“I might have a crewneck sweater laying here somewhere,” Lando tells you.
You nod at Lando. Together you walk inside the McLaren motorhome. You notice the way even some mechanics are watching you. You’re going to kill Lando. This is all his fault. Lando doesn’t pay attention to them, he takes your hand and pulls you with him the his drivers room. There you finally get his sweater. You’re quick to put it on. Happily you watch in the mirror, almost no love bite is still visible now. The sweater is way too hot, but you rather become sweaty then have people look at you for the whole day. You can only hope they’ll fade away quickly. In silence the two of you walk back to the track.
Together with Lando you’re strolling on the track. It’s relaxing to walk around with him like this. Lando is holding your hand. You like the peaceful silence between you two right now. It feels comfortable and relaxing. You realize that you don’t feel like this around other people. Lando has always been your safe place. It reminds you about how special things are between Lando and you, but it reminds you most about how you can’t fuck things up between you two.
Your feelings are already coming in the way. They have always done, but since you have been experiencing the sexual stuff with him it has become worse. Maybe it’s because you have a tiny bit of hope that Lando also feels something for you. It’s the first time you have ever had that hope. Partly because of his jealousy, that must mean something right? But still, you wonder if it’s worth it if it can also ruin your friendship? What if you’re wrong and Lando doesn’t feel the same?
When Lando grabs your hand, he pulls you out of your thoughts. “Don’t look to fast,” he says, “but I think Pierre is coming this way.” Fuck. You’re not in the mood for that. Slowly you watch around you, it doesn’t take you long to see that Lando is right. Pierre is walking towards the two of you. In only a couple seconds he’s standing in front of you.
“You could have told me,” Pierre says to Lando without any context.
“Told you what?” Lando asks confused.
“Come on,” Pierre sighs, “All the gossip accounts are full with it. The two of you are dating.”
“Sorry?” You ask confused, “Are gossip accounts stating that we’re dating?”
“Yes!”
You let out a sigh. Gossip accounts have always been a thing. They always suspect that there’s something going on between Lando and you, but they never had any proof. You drop Lando his hand. This is a mess. You don’t even want to see your socials right now, they’re probably full with hate. Fuck.
“Since when do you believe gossip accounts?” Lando asks Pierre.
“Since she has been spotted with hickeys all over her and she’s now wearing one of your crewneck sweaters,” Pierre answers annoyed, “I don’t get it why you didn’t tell me. I made a fool of myself by asking her on a date. You could have said something.”
“I told you that you weren’t her type.”
Lando continues to argue with Pierre. You on the other hand can only wonder when the gossip accounts are going to share the pictures of your love bites. Fuck, what are ‘fans’ going to do then? You grab your phone and look at the way your notifications are already blowing up. Reactions keep coming, you read a couple of them. Most of them are calling you a slut. Whenever you see a nice one, there are more negative ones beneath them. You search on a gossip page, wondering what they already posted. Then you see one of the pictures.
It’s you in your former outfit. The hickeys on your neck and collar are hard to miss. Suddenly you start to feel watched. It feels like everyone around you is looking at you.
“You should have told me that you two are dating,” Pierre scoffs angrily.
“We’re not,” you sigh. It’s the first time that you’re saying something again. “And even if we were, it’s none of your business. Can you take me back to the motorhome Lando?”
When you’re finally back in Lando his drivers room, you grab your phone again. Your notifications are blowing up. It seems like everyone is talking about Lando and you dating. You have never gotten this many comments under a Instagram post, you’re above a thousand now on your most recent post. You try to read as many as you can, but a lot of them are the same. People are calling you a slut for “parading” around the track with the hickeys. Others are saying that Lando deserves better, that you’re only with him for the fame. As if you weren’t with him before he even started in Formula One. Sometimes you read a positive comment. Some people seem to like it that Lando and you are “finally” together, not that it’s true. Some people are even reacting about the true love between you two. All of it makes you sad. You don’t even notice the tears that are falling down on your cheeks, until Lando wipes a couple of them away.
Lando doesn’t know how to act. He takes you into his arms and tries to comfort you as much as he can manage. He doesn’t know what is wrong, but he can guess. When Pierre said something about the gossip accounts, he didn’t even think about the consequences for you from those accounts, but now he remembers. Every time they post about you, your notifications are blowing up. People know how to find your Instagram and how to leave horrible comments. He doesn’t even want to read it.
“Nothing of what they’re saying is true babygirl,” Lando shushes. You let out a soft sob. “Everyone thinks I’m a slut,” you tell him, “or a gold digger or just an awful person.”
“You’re not.” He presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most wonderful person I know,” he continues, “So stop letting this get to you babygirl, they’re not worth it.”
“Lan?” You ask softly. He nods and waits for you to continue. “This is all your fault,” you softly joke, “fucking hickeys.” Lando lets out a soft laugh.
+++
“Fuck, babygirl,” Lando grunts when you lower your body onto his. He feels himself enter you. “You feel so fucking good.”
You’re sitting on top of Lando. He’s not even more then ten minutes back from the second free practice. It didn’t went like he wanted to. When he got out of the car, he let everyone know about that. The moment he started to scold multiple mechanics you were quick to intervene. Normally you don’t, but Lando kept going on and on. It was getting too much. He really lost his temper this time. You wonder why, normally he’s rather patient.
Slowly you move your body on top of Lando. This position makes you feel more fulled up then the first time. With slow movements you fuck him. When you let out a soft moan, Lando shows you a small smile. His hands are all over your body. He kneads your boobs while pressing his lips against your collarbone. Softly placing kisses all over it.
You didn’t know what got into you when you grabbed Lando his hand while he acted rude to his team. He gave you a surprised look and even shut his mouth for a bit. When you stood on your toes to reach his ear, he turned all of his attention to you. “If you stop whining,” you whisper, “I’ll have sex with you in your drivers room.” Lando shut in within seconds. He even apologized to his crew before taking your hand and almost running towards his drivers room with you. Undressing you as soon as he turned the door behind him. When your dress was all up and his pants were down and he was ready to enter you, you surprised him one more time. “I want to be on top.”
Lando can’t stop himself from letting out multiple moans when you increase your pace. Faster then before you move yourself on top of him. He grabs your neck and moves your face closer towards himself so he can kiss you properly. His hands are still busy kneading your boobs. He gives your nipples a bit more attention by softly pulling on them.
“Fuck Lan,” you whine when he pulls back from the kiss. He chuckles and let his hands slide down on your body. His lips are attached to your neck. “No more visible marks,” you instruct half jokingly, half serous. Lando grunts but moves his mouth a bit lower, making sure his new marks can be covered with summer clothes.
You’re surprised when you feel Lando put his finger on your clitoris. He shows you a small smile when he notices your surprised look. Slowly he traces circles on the sensitive bud, making you feel all kind of things. You let out a loud moan. Lando adds a bit more pressure. You try to increase your pace as well, but you start to feel worn out. Lando helps you, effortless he moves himself inside of you. Picking up a fast pace. It causes you to let out more moans.
“Fucking insane how good you feel,” Lando groans. He feels himself coming close to his orgasm, but he wants to feel you cum on his dick first. He increases his pace on both fucking you as on playing with your sensitive bud. Stimulating you as much as he can.
“Are you going to cum for me?” Lando asks you, “Let me feel how good it feels to have your pussy clenching around my cock.” You don’t react verbally. Lando keeps talking dirty to you. “So fucking tight.” “Such a good girl.”
“I’m close Lan,” you suddenly tell him, “Can I cum?”
Lando increases his pace as much as he can. “Please do babygirl,” he tells you. When he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, he lets go as well. When his cum enters your body, Lando tells you one more thing. “My good girl.” It makes you all flustered.
+++
Days are going by quickly. Before you know it, it’s already Sunday - meaning it’s race day again. This is the last race of the triple header, meaning that after this Lando and you will go back home. You don’t know how to feel about that. Last weeks you have spent al your time with Lando, sleeping in his hotel rooms and being together almost every moment of the day. It has been extremely nice. You like living with Lando like this. That’s maybe why you don’t like going back home tomorrow. Then you’ll be alone in your own apartment again, without Lando laying next to you in the bed every night.
“Good luck kiss?” Lando asks you. He holds his helmet. He’s almost ready to get into his car and to start with the race. You show him a small nod and press the standard ‘good luck kiss’ against his cheek. Like you always do when you’re with him at races. “Don’t know if that will bring me enough luck,” Lando jokes.
You show Lando a confused look. What does he mean? Before you can ask about it, Lando presses his lips on your for a small moment of time. It can’t have lasted longer then a second, but it was long enough to wake up the butterflies in your stomach. You look around you. Did anyone see it? It can’t be. You don’t more negative comments on your socials. Now that you think about it, what did just happen? Since when is Lando kissing you in public places?
Lando doesn’t say anything else, he walks off to his car. He can only think about what he just did. He realizes that if anyone saw, it will mean that you’ll get more hate. Maybe he should say something about it on his socials? He needs some help from his PR team. He wonders what’s going on with him. He just kissed you in a public place, practically on his work, where everyone could see. Since when are you doing that? If someone saw and shares it, the madhouse will be complete. He wonders what would happen if he would date you and share it online. People have been shipping the two of you for a long time, so some of them might be happy. But there are always so many haters. When he takes place in his car, he looks at the Alpine motorhome. He remembers Pierre his statements from earlier this week. Finally someone who understands that you’re not for him to take.
He really should solve this problem and make you his.
Then he remembers something else. Didn’t you have a date planned with some guy for after the triple header? He tries to forgot about it and focus on the upcoming race, but that seems to be hard form him right now. He can’t stop thinking about the guy who’s taking you on a date. Who is it? Will you fall in love with him? When he lines up to the start, he’s still thinking about the guy you’re going on a date with.
You watch Lando race. All of your focus is on him, nothing new now that you think about it. Only this time it doesn’t feel like it normally does. It’s because of some weird feeling that you can’t seem to shake off. It almost feels like something is going to happen. Something bad. It feels off. You don’t know why you’re thinking like this right now, but you can’t seem to stop. You can’t take your eyes off the screen which shows Lando his car all the time. Multiple mechanics are watching the fight for second place, but you can only focus on Lando. Even the way he races feels off. It’s hard to say without any knowledge about it, but he almost seems unfocused.
Then you see the reason behind your feeling. Lando misses his braking point. Within seconds he’s spinning into the wall. You let out a loud scream when it happens. Quickly you stand up and walk closer to the screen. All the attention of everyone in the motorhome is on the screen as well now. Everyone is waiting for Lando to say something. To let them know he’s okay.
You need to hear Lando say something. You need to know if he’s okay. The crash didn’t look massive, but still bad. It doesn’t take long for a safety car to show up on the grid, leading the drivers. Many drivers are coming into the pit to change their tires. You don’t notice any of it, you just keep waiting for Lando to say something. The stress doesn’t leave your body.
“I’m ok.”
You feel how you let out a lot of air at once with a relieved sigh. Thank god, Lando is okay. You watch how he climbs out of his car. It seems like he has no trouble with walking away from the track to get back to the motorhome. Within a couple minutes you see Lando showing up at the motorhome. The medical team is following him inside, you hear some talks about medical checks but you don’t follow it. All of your attention is on Lando.
While walking to Lando you almost trip over your own feet. “Fuck Lan,” you stammer while rushing yourself into his arms. Lando doesn’t react verbally, he just wraps his arms around your body and holds you closely to himself. You don’t even notice that you’re making his race suit wet with your tears. “Are you hurt?” You ask him.
“We would have known if he joined us for his medical checks,” someone tells you with an annoyed tone in her voice. You let go of Lando and look around you, only to see that the whole medical team is gathered around you.
“You didn’t have your check up yet?” You ask Lando confused. “No,” he replies. “Fucking hell Lan,” you mutter, “Go with them you idiot.” Lando shows you a boyish grin, “Sorry babygirl, I wanted to see you first.”
Lando and you are rejoined only a small hour later. He is still laying in a hospital bed. The medical team decided that he needed some rest before getting back out of there. The crash wasn’t hard and didn’t left much damage across for a few bruises and painful spots on his body. They gave him some pain medication, which causes him to feel a bit loopy. You’re sitting next to him, waiting until he wakes up. You have seen him on medication like this before, the Grand Prix in Las Vegas showed you how loopy and careless Lando can act with medication like this. You wonder how he will act this time.
When Lando wakes up, he’s happy to see sitting right next to him. He is quick to remember the way he crashed during the race. He feels ashamed when he realizes why he lost his concentration and how it ended his race, such a rookie mistake. And probably easy to fix if he finally gets the nerve to tell you about his feelings. He feels himself getting mad at himself. Before he can think about it any longer you’re already taking to him.
“How are you feeling Lan?” You ask him.
“Not great,” Lando sighs honestly.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you confess, “what happened?”
He can’t exactly tell you that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the date you’re going on as soon you’re back in Monaco. That would be stupid. Although it is the real reason. Lando wants to make up some sort of excuse, but he is already talking again. Those fucking pain meds.
“Couldn’t focus,” he confesses, “I kept thinking about something.” He can barely stop himself on time from telling you that he was thinking about you and your date.
“About what?” You ask confused.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lando quickly says before he can say anything stupid again. He needs to stop himself from confessing even more. “Okay Lan,” you softly say. You grab his hand and draw some figures on it. There’s a comfortable silence between you two. Lando enjoys your soft touches on your hand. He feels himself getting calm and almost falling asleep again. But right before he falls asleep, he can’t stop himself from saying something stupid again. He cam blame the pain meds, but he knows that he means every word.
“Babygirl?” He asks. “Yeah Lan?”
“Please don’t get a boyfriend,” he says. “And please don’t go on a date when you’re back in Monaco with anyone else then me.”
Fuck. Did he really just say that? How on earth will he fix this? Lando closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep instead of thinking what he just did. Lando doesn’t notice the way you have a small smile laying on your lips and how good you feel because of his words.
“I already cancelled that date,” you confess to Lando, “After we fucked I decided that it might be a better idea to practice a bit more.”
Lando opens his eyes and shows you a happy grin. “I don’t think you need a lot of practice,” he says, “but I’m happy to help.”
“That’s a deal.”
“My good girl,” Lando mutters before falling asleep.
part eleven
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#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris imagine#ln4#formula one#f1#lando norris imagines#lando norris smut
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#this is in my walking to work playlist and i don’t know how to show emotion when not in conversation#also i own and use similar headphones every day#shuggie otis#Spotify
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡
Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist
Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter
chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.
word count: 7.4k
warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.
a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.
"I need some sleep
It can't go on like this
I tried counting sheep
But there's one I always miss"
“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”
Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.
“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?”
“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment. The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time.
As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea.
“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.
“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter.
You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.
You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this.
“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck.
“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence.
“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely.
Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.
“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against the counter on the opposite side of him.
The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories.
After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”
You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job, but I do miss it.”
“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture.
You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”
“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant.
“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?”
Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits, I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”
“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.”
Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”
“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”
He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.”
“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet.
“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”
You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it.
“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”
You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him.
“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.
He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture.
“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator.
The atmosphere hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach.
“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.
Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off.
You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.
Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you.
You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette.
You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.
For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.
The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”
You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you.
“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.”
Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.
You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders.
The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes.
You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose.
“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative.
You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up.
The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.
Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you.
You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.
With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing.
With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here.
You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned.
Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink.
You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.
· · · · ·
Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.
He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult.
“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays a hint of eagerness.
“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.
“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.
He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now.
And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff.
“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on.
Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.
“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels.
“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman.
“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest.
“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter.
“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.
The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.”
“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration.
“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.”
Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed…
“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”
“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman.
“He doesn’t look dead.”
“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod.
“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”
“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request.
“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest.
“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.
“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively.
Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.
Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant.
“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office.
“Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.
“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused.
“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains.
Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”
“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .
“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.
“Suspended license.”
“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out.
Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business.
Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!”
“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”
He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.
“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening. “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here.
“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.
“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.
“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased.
“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.
“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains.
The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”
Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.
“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.
“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.
“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie
The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”
“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes.
“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore
“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .
“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.
“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.
A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head.
“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat.
“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!”
“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving.
Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well.
“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.
“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step.
“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion.
“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses.
“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.
“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”
“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”
“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.
“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”
This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”
“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance.
“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”
“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head.
Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.
He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…
Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low. His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.
“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.
“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”
“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.
Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.
“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling.
“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.
“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.
As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over.
He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.
· · · · ·
You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing.
Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it.
“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night.
You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.
You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know, and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.
But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come.
“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-”
“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone.
“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”
You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through.
“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”
Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”
You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry
“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.”
You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.”
You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow.
“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out.
“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you.
Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.
As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.
The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.
Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡
@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto
#springtyme writes#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x f!reader#carmy x you#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#the bear x reader#the bear fic#the bear fandom#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto imagine#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#carmy berzatto#jeremy allen white#tw cigarettes#tw smoking
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Date night.♡
Fluff! light nsfw joke.
connie is just a gentleman.
When connie asked you to be his valentine, you knew he would not disappoint. 2 days prior he’d give you the money to book your hair, nail and wax appointment. He love his girl to look and especially feel pretty on the romantic day. He felt like valentine’s day was the day to show the world how much he loved his girl. So when valentine’s day finally rolled around he was ready. He already told you that you two would be going somewhere special at 7pm which is why you were getting ready 2 hours before.
After taking your everything shower, you moisturized your body and went to your closet. You wanted to dress classy but still wanted to show some skin. After calling 2 friends and going back and fourth between tiktok and pinterest, you decide on a simple silk black dress that hugged your curves perfectly. You pair it with a bracelet that connie got you for your first anniversary and you felt like it was perfect. You felt like a bad bitch. Sitting down at your vanity you open up an inspiration picture for your makeup and began putting in work with your beauty blender.
Now playing : HISS BY MEGAN THEE STALLION.
Being so into your makeup and your playlist, you don’t notice the sound of an unlocking door. Closing your eyes and spraying your setting spray you open your eyes and see connie in the mirror. Nearly jumping out of your chair you let out a loud scream. “Connie! you need to stop doing that”
You softly hit him as he leans over to see what you were doing. Perfectly dressed in a jet black suit which precisely matched your dress. Part of his tattoo could be seen and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. “i’m sorry pretty, i wanted to surprise you“ You giggle as you stand up from your vanity and admire your dress from the mirror. “You look so fuckin’ good.” Connie’s hand wraps around your waist, massaging your hip and kissing your neck. “might fuck around and stay here..” He muttered into your ear. “thank you baby” You kiss his cheek, leaving some of your lip gloss on it. To your surprise he doesn’t wipe it off but instead leaves it there to dry.
“you ready to go mama?“
”yes let me grab my bag”
Connie grabs your soft manicured hand as you two make your way out of your small apartment.
He walks to the passenger side of the car and opens it for you. “Here you go princesa” As you throw him a smile you turn to the seat and see the biggest bouquet of pink roses you’ve ever seen. Along with some heart balloons with a pretty pink envelope.
Your mouth fall open looking at the things in front of you. “con..” He smiled Your eyes fill with warm tears that threaten to fall as you lifted your head to look him in the eyes. “all for you mama, i love you”. He muttered as your arms instantly grab his face to smother him into a wet and sloppy kiss completely forgetting about your lip combo that you’d had just applied. Softly grazing your acrylics over his cheek made his heart jump. Connie was tremendously obsessed with you. Everything about you fascinated him. From your toes ,that he always paid for to get done, to the pink bonnet you’d wear to sleep. He loved you and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
“thank you connie,seriously. i love you ”
“anything for you. now get in the car before we end up late” He moved the flowers and the balloons to the backseat for you. Sitting down in his car, the aroma of vanilla musk ran through your nose. His car smelled exactly like him. As he began to pull out of the driveway, you decided to open the envelope. It was two 500 dollar gift cards to target. Definitely not self indulgent. “Connie!!! you spent a whole band on gift cards? are you crazy?” He rolled his eyes as he payed attention to the road. “You know you like it.” Pouting your lips you put the gift cards back into the card and pull out your phone. Taking a few selfies before you two reached the destination. A fancy italian restaurant which connie knew you loved your pasta.
Connie hurried to the opposite side of the car to open your door. Holding your hand and helping you out of the car. Almost tripping from your choice of heals, you walk into the restaurant together. Instantly greeted by a waiter you both are seated in a booth closest to a window. As you sat down you looked out of the window and saw the sunset. You and connie talked it up until it was time to order. When you were done ordering you made sure to order yourself an alcoholic drink—because you deserved it.
A kind waiter brought out your drink and you took it to the head. Finishing it in 5 minutes.
After 30 minutes, your food came out. You were starting to feel the drink set in as you began to eat your food. Slurping up your creamy noodles from your alfredo ,the sauce getting all over your lips.
“that’s exactly how you look when you-“
You put your hand over his mouth as you roll your eyes. Connie didn’t move your hand and just chuckled. Licking the sauce off of your lips you finish your food. Of course connie has the bill and tips the waitress well. Holding his muscular arm as you make your way back to the car. Sitting back in the car you lean over to stare at your man. Your man that seemed to not have any flaws and kept a smile on your face.
“connie you staying over right?”
“of course ma.”
He pulls out of the driveway and makes his way back to your apartment.
Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated! ♡
#connie x black reader#connie x reader#aot connie#connie springer#aot x black reader#aot x y/n#black reader#connie x black y/n#connie x you#fluff#aot fluff
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DRUNKEN’ NIGHTS
dom!joel miller x dad!male reader
genre: neighbor joel, no outbreak au, explicit, minors dni
summary: an opportunity to have a guy's night with your daughter’s best friend’s dad turns into a heart-to-heart into an unforgettable night to remember
warnings: strong language, infidelity, joel is 40, reader is 38, unprotected P in A, dirty talk, angsty thoughts, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, fingering, creampies,
word count: 4.9k
a/n: gif by @shirks-all-responsibilities
a/n: dividers by @firefly-graphics
a/n: italics = thoughts
official playlist
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YOUR DAUGHTER, MARIGOLD, WAS CLOSE TO SARAH, JOEL’S AND ADALINE’S DAUGHTER.
You remember the first time you met Sarah, it was a late night at work and you came home to see your daughter laughing at a TV Show that she and Sarah were both watching, and they were a little nervous and surprised to see you.
You reassured Sarah saying that your home is open to her.
You met Sarah’s parents; Joel and Adaline after Sarah invited them to have dinner with you, Marigold and Sarah. You remember that you noticed how distant/close Joel and Adaline were during the whole dinner.
It was like they weren’t present as a couple but as a couple of friends. Of course they did their best to hide it but sometimes they slipped through the cracks.
Later that night, you learned from your daughter, Marigold, that Joel and Adaline weren’t as close as they were before they were married — Adaline travels a lot for work, so the relationship wasn’t as strong as they hoped.
After that night, you noticed that inviting Joel and Adaline for hangouts, activities, game nights, and movie nights always had Joel come over with Sarah by himself, and Adaline always worked.
That concluded, you and Joel were always hanging out, drinking together while your daughters had their fun.
This was one of those nights where it would just be you and Joel at his house, with Sarah and Marigold hanging out at yours to have their privacy.
You bought a bottle of rum you were never gonna finish all by yourself and you thought this would be the best time to get rid of the bottle that's been eyeing you for the past 10 years.
You already knew the girls were over at your house. Marigold’s bedroom held the sound of giggling and hushed whispers. You shook your head as you had the neck of the rum bottle in your clammy palm.
You were walking across the cul-de-sac in the already warm orange sky to Joel’s front door, bringing your free hand and knocking on the wooden door in front of you.
You hear shuffling getting closer and closer to the door, and then Joel opens the door, and you smile, and Joel shoots one back.
“Hey, man, what’s our poison for tonight?” Joel asks, leaning on the doorframe.
You held the bottle in your hand and showed to Joel.
“A wedding gift that’s been sitting in my cabinet for ten years, she and me never opened it.”
Joel knew you were divorced but never knew the reason behind it. It wasn't like you never told him. He just never asked.
“You sure you wanna drink this, man?” Joel asks, taking the bottle from your hand.
“Wedding gifts are unique. I know you're divorced and everything but —”
“It's fine, It cluttered the cabinet. Good excuse to clean out my cabinet,” You shrugged.
“Okay, let's get to drinkin’,” Joel smirked, getting off the door frame.
You walked behind him and close the door behind you. You sit on the brown couch in front of the TV — seeing that it's on, you can't take your eyes away from the bright screen. It was a movie that Joel must have been watching before you knocked on the door.
Glancing towards the kitchen, you notice Joel walking back toward you with two glasses in his hands; you fix your position on the couch as Joel sits beside you.
“Here we go,” Joel states, handing you a glass.
“Thank you, cowboy,” You smile, taking the glass from Joel’s hand.
“I can't believe you call me that,” Joel chuckles.
“I’m just glad you don’t call me city boy.”
“I might have to start.”
You place the glass on Joel’s coffee table and unscrew the rum bottle cap, putting the bottle cap on the table.
“Let’s get to drinkin’ then.”
“Let’s get to drinking then,” You smile.
You grab your cup and pour some rum into Joel’s glass and then some into your glass, placing the glass bottle on the coffee table.
“To gettin’ drunk,” Joel nods, holding his rum-filled glass near you.
“We sound like alcoholics — but, to getting drunk,” You laugh.
You and Joel clink your glasses together, and you both knock back a sip of the rum before you start coughing.
The rum made your throat feel like it was burning, and it stayed for a couple of seconds while you were coughing; Joel couldn't help but start chuckling, watching your pain endure.
“Okay, you brought this, and your actin’ like it already killed you,” Joel laughed.
“Look, Mr. Drinker, I’m not much of a drinker; I only act like I am, so you don't judge, city boy, over here,” You countered.
“Aww, is city boy a baby?” Joel pouted.
You shove him. “You suck,” You laugh.
You and Joel probably drank ten or eleven drinks, but it was apparent; you both were drunk like never before. The night sky came rushing in through his large windows.
“Okay, wait, you and Tommy rode motorcycles for his birthday?” You laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, and it was so fuckin’ fun; the adrenaline rush was high that day; I miss it.”
You and Joel were laughing together like lifelong friends. Two dads who were just getting irresponsibly drunk while their daughters did their own thing.
Leaning your head on the backrest of the couch, from the corner of your eye, you can see Joel smiling and leaning back on the sofa, his arm outstretched on top of the couch.
You could tell Joel was hiding something behind that smile, though, as he was looking at the now-muted TV; you could tell something was on his mind.
“Joel,” You state, closing your eyes.
“Yeah, city boy?”
“I can tell something’s on your mind.”
“How? Your eyes are closed,” He reported.
You open your eyes slowly and turn your head to look at him. “Thanks for noticing, detective.”
He chuckled at that nickname.
“But, is there legitimately something on your mind?”
He took a long extended breath and spoke.
“Why did you get a divorce?”
You knew that question would come up eventually; you couldn't dodge the question any more than you wanted to. At this point, you felt like you could tell Joel the real reason.
It could have been the rum messing with your mind, but you acted like you knew Joel for more than ten years when in reality, you only knew him less than five months.
You inhaled and then exhaled before answering Joel.
“I’m gay, no other reason,” You spoke.
Joel couldn't tell where his emotions were in his drunken mind. He wanted to sympathize, comfort, and let you rant about what was on your mind. But in his drunk-filled head, he thought you needed a distraction.
“Do you wanna know how Adaline and I met?”
You nod your head slowly.
“Back in high school, I was this star athlete and shit. She was a wannabe journalist at that point,” Joel started.
“So she wants to interview me because I was this great athlete and shit, we go back to my house, my folks don't come home until later that night. As we're talking, I don't think she’s listening at this point — and she grabs my bulge.”
“What?” You question fixing your position.
“Yeah! I was surprised at it, too; she was now next to me, rubbing, then she unzips my fly, and she’s now rubbing my cock. Her hands are so fuckin’ warm, she’s rubbing and rubbing, and then she stops and walks out with my cock throbbing.”
You could tell with Joel’s feeble attempt at a distraction he was hard himself. He was rubbing his aching cock on top of his jeans.
He was breathing through his nose to the point you could hear every inhale and exhale coming from his nose.
“Your hard, aren't you?”
Joel was nodding his head in between breaths.
“Yeah,” Joel breathed.
Joel stopped rubbing his cock and placed his hands on the sides of him.
Sober, you would have just sat in the uncomfortable silence in the room, but drunk, you did something you would be scared to do if sober.
You place your hand over Joel’s cock; you can feel it throb in your palm.
“W-what are you doing?” Joel exclaimed.
“Helping you out,” You answered.
You knew that this was wrong to do this, your mind was screaming at you to stop, but your actions were speaking louder than your head.
You unzipped Joel’s jeans and placed your hand in between his zipper, and started rubbing his cock on top of his boxer-briefs.
He threw his head back in pleasure and lust.
“Damn, city boy, you know what you're doing,” Joel chuckles.
You didn't hear his statement, you were dick-whipped, and you wanted more. You unbuckled his belt and jeans; then you see his cock bounce up with his boxers, making a tent.
“My cock isn't gonna take care of itself, is it?”
You fix Joel’s cock so his cock can go through the hole in his boxers.
His thick cock was throbbing right before you as you took the tip of his dick in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the slit of his dick as he was moaning with pleasure.
“Oh — fuck, yes.” Joel moaned.
You wrapped your hand around his length as you were taking his size in your mouth.
He was throwing his head back and sucking his teeth as you were pleasuring him to the point that he would explode. Joel hadn't felt something this fantastic in so long; he had forgotten what it felt like.
This feeling he yearned for it once again after so many years; he missed it, the way his body betrayed him showing him that he was enjoying this too well.
The men you gave oral pleasure to in the past can never compare to Joel’s length, and you were addicted to him. You mouth was taking his length with anticipation like a prize you always wanted.
“Such a good fuckin’ cock sucker, city boy,” Joel grunted.
He places his hand onto your head ands pushing down as you were going down on his dick. He was making you speed up a bit.
But going your own pace, you knew he would enjoy it, his dick is sleek in your mouth, almost like a piece of ice in your mouth. You feel his thumb rubbing your head as you take his length.
You take your mouth away from his cock as his dick throbs like a spring.
A line of saliva connect from your mouth to Joel’s cock. Joel’s now having full body breathes, he can’t control the adrenaline and lust coursing through his entire body at this point.
Joel stands up and takes his pants off along with his boxers, you watch as he drops them around his ankle. You can tell Joel is writhing in anticipation, but he’s hiding it.
“Work your magic, city boy.”
With that, Joel shoots a wink as you slide off the couch and kneel on the wooden floor below you. He was standing — towering over you with his hands on his hips.
“No! What are you thinking? He’s married,” You thought.
Ignoring your head again, you take Joel’s cock in your mouth as moans escape his lips. He’s starting to tremble as your head moves, almost bobbing even. You take his cock out of your mouth, and you start stroking his thick, sleek cock. Looking up at him, he gives you an almost weak smile.
“How’s that?” You ask.
“Better — than I — could ever imagine.”
“Wait, he’s imagined this before — Stop! That does not excuse this!”
You place your tongue under his cock, at the base of his balls, and start licking and sucking on his balls.
Joel’s moans kept escaping his lips; it was like music to your ears. Your heart was pumping, hearing Joel moan like he didn't have a care in the world.
“Damn, baby. You so fuckin’ good at that,” Joel exclaimed.
He places his hand on the side of your head.
“Get on the fuckin’ couch,” Joel commands.
“What?” You ask, swallowing your spit.
“I said, take off your fuckin’ clothes and get on the damn couch; I’m going to fuck the shit out of you like no man has before,” Joel commanded.
You stood at the man before you, undoing your pants, taking your shoes off, leaving your socks on, and then taking your shirt off.
Joel had already tossed his boots, jeans, and boxers to the side, with his flannel unbuttoned but hanging on his shoulders. He was a mighty 6’2 compared to your height. You were intimidated a bit in your sober mind. But being drunk, you weren't scared; you were standing your ground.
“Look’s like your cock is happy to see me,” Joel breathed.
Before you can answer, Joel takes your cock in his hands and starts to stroke it; you gasp at his movement as you grip his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over.
You never received this type of pleasure from anyone else but yourself before. Joel stroking your cock made you replace your moans with breathing — heaving breathing. You didn't want to show Joel that you were touched-starved at this point.
“C’mon, city boy, if you can make me moan — I should return the favor at the least,” Joel grinned.
He was stroking your cock faster now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and moan with pleasure. Your nails were going to make half-crescent moon shapes on Joel’s shoulders.
“Ack, Joel —breath— damn this, so fucking amazing,” You breathed.
Joel smiles as you moan his name like that; he can hear the lust radiating from your lips. He knew you were on the brink of feeling satisfaction just by him stroking you right here.
He knew he had to treat you right, he stopped stroking you, and you placed your head in the crook of his neck and acted breathless right there.
“It’s okay, baby,” Joel reassured.
“You need to stop now!”
You get away from the spot in Joel’s neck and back up from him. Joel smiles at you and sits down on the couch; he pats his thigh, indicating for you to ride him. It was intoxicating how he was manspreading and how he patted his thigh.
“You can walk out of here, grab your clothes and walk out!”
You straddle Joel wasting no time acting like he was going to run away.
You could feel the tip of his dick press up against your ass; Joel puts his fingers in your mouth as you drunkenly suck on them.
“Damn, baby, I don't need to tell you anything.”
He takes his fingers away from your mouth and fingers your ass with his spit-covered fingers.
You exclaim with a moan escaping your lips; your nails had dug into the couch material as Joel kept fingering you.
“So fuckin’ tight, baby boy. Have you ever been fingered before?” Joel questioned.
You shook your head and Joel gives you a smirk.
He was enjoying making you squirm under his intoxicating actions. Your moans became quick with efficiency, like you wanted him inside you already.
His fingers were sleek, going inside you and out fast; your knuckles were almost bone white at this point, and your moans kept passing through your teeth like water; Joel’s grin meant he was enjoying every sound you made for him.
He knew that these sounds for him could only be heard by him, considering he was the first person to make you feel this way: overstimulated.
“You like this, city boy?”
“Y-y-ye-yes,” You moaned.
His fingers slipped out of your, and his hands were on your ass.
“You want this cock inside you, baby boy?”
“No!”
“Yes,” You breathed.
“Yes, what?” Joel grunted, smacking your ass.
You yelped as he smacked your ass.
“Yes, Joel, I want your cock inside of me,” You groaned.
Joel’s shit-eating grin meant he’s heard what he’s always wanted to hear.
You waste no time having your ass hover over Joel’s aching cock, mentally preparing yourself, but your mind decides to take over.
“You seriously can not be thinking about doing this, right? What you are committing is an act in which you are going to lie to everyone about how horrible you felt when in reality, you enjoyed every minute of —”
Your mind goes blank as you feel Joel’s cock enter you slowly, intoxicating and rich but slow. You spat a moan out in retaliation for Joel’s dick inside you.
In those enticing, agonizing seconds, Your ass meets the base of his cock, and Joel’s hands make loud contact with your ass.
“God, damn, that's tight, city boy.”
His hands reach your hips like a puzzle piece you lost. Joel lifts you up and slowly goes back down; your moans escape your teeth, your clenched teeth, until Joel rocks his hips up and down. That's when you feel him hit that same spot.
Joel’s hands feel rough as they feel like they were sewn onto your waist, with how tight he grabbed you. His hips felt like they had a mind of their own.
His face had a look of rage and determination all in one; his breaths were quick and through his teeth as he pumped his cock inside you.
“Take this dick, city boy,”
“You know this is wrong. You can't keep doing this!” You thought.
You couldn't contain your moans with every pump Joel delivered; it was addicting.
“Fuck, Joel, I think you're gonna break me,” You exclaim.
“Not yet, baby, soon enough.”
Your hands were on the back of the couch, gripping the fabric. You could tear it off by how your hands were grabbing this.
You yelp again as his hands make contact — hard contact to your ass.
“You’re taking it like such a good boy, baby,” Joel grunted.
“Such a good boy.”
“No! No! No! You are not a good boy!”
Joel’s pace was so fast that his cock, slipped out of you.
Both of your breaths were heavy and difficult; you were looking into each other's eyes and saw the same thing: satisfaction.
“Holy shit, your tight little pussy, almost made me cum, city boy!” Joel chuckles.
“Turn around, baby.”
You complied with what Joel told you to do; you got off Joel’s lap and turned around; you didn't need to listen to your head right now. All you knew was that your ass was hovering over Joel’s thick, throbbing cock.
Joel grabbed the base of his cock and started slapping it against your ass. “You want this dick, city boy?” Joel questioned.
Surprising Joel, you shoved Joel’s cock inside your ass hole. Joel was taken aback.
“OOOOH, GOOD BOY!” Joel exclaimed.
You slowly started to fuck yourself on Joel’s cock. It was thrilling, adrenaline-inducing. You were on the brink of exploding.
“C’mere baby,” Joel stated.
Joel wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closest to his. His hips were rocking up and down, and his pace was fast. His hands were wrapped around your chest, feeling your body as he enjoyed bringing you immense pleasure.
Your feet were on Joel’s bare, sweaty knees. His was hitting your G-spot again, and it felt indescribable. The feeling you never felt before would go away soon, and you hated that, at this moment, you felt suitable for the first time in so long.
“Who’s my good boy?” Joel growls in your ear.
“Me, Joel. I AM,” You hiss between your teeth.
One of his hands found its way to your throat, lightly choking you.
“You love this big dick inside you? Huh, baby?”
“I love it so much, Joel.”
That's when Joel wanted to go rough with you some more. He removes his hand from your throat and grips your thighs, and lifts them so that your back connects with his slightly covered — sweaty chest.
His dick would hurt when you woke up in the morning, but for now, you were feeling pleasure.
Joel was rough, and he knew that your face was close to his, and you could see the rage and determination, and it turned you on even more.
Your cock was slapping against your navel, and your pre cum string was slapping against your stomach. Your left hand gripped Joel’s covered shoulder while your right hand was on the back of the couch.
You could feel Joel’s cock pulsating inside you. You could think that he was close.
“Your so needy, city boy, feelin’ my bulge like that,” Joel grunted.
“Shut up. . .” You thought
“You're taking this thick cock so well,” Joel growled.
“Please, Joel, stop talking; I won't control myself if you keep talking.”
“You love this cock inside of you, don't you?Pounding that tight little pussy of yours.
“YESSS,” You spat.
“You're a filthy whore!”
“Joel! JOEL!” You exclaimed.
“FILTHY WHORES NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
That's when you listened to your head and did the unthinkable. You kissed Joel Miller.
A married Joel Miller, not a simple peck on this lips too—a sloppy, slobbery, open-mouth kiss. Joel slipped his tongue in your mouth as the kiss got rough and passionate. You can feel Joel pumping his cock inside of you faster as he takes his mouth off yours.
“Joel, you’re going to make me cum!” You moaned.
“Cum for me, baby!” Joel breathed.
Joel’s hands made your legs spread apart, and he was pumping his cock rough and slow.
“I’m going to cum, in that tight pussy of yours, city boy,” Joel growled.
“Yes, Joel, fuck —mpfm—, I want that load inside me!”
Joel started to get faster again. As he was, you were about to cum; Joel’s hips were on the brink of exploding if he didn't cum soon. This feeling, this experience, would end with a lust-filled bang.
“I’m cumming, I’M CUMMING!!” You exclaim as white lines of cum shoot out on your stomach.
“FFF— FUCK, ME TOO!” Joel growled.
You could feel his cum inside of you slowly start falling out of you, and Joel’s body started to jolt.
Joel kissed your lips with more passion than hunger like before. You both were drenched in sweat, spit, and now cum. This night was something you didn't want to forget.
You feel your body raised from Joel’s hard chest. Then you notice Joel is picking you up bridal style.
“Not yet, city boy, we’re not done yet,” Joel growled. His eyes turn dark as he walks upstairs with you in his arms.
Joel pushes the bedroom door with his foot; once he sees the bed, he places you down on the bed — on your back.
He’s in between your legs with a grin spread across his face, which shows he has more ways to pleasure you. With your ass hanging over the edge of the bed, Joel places tender kisses on your thighs.
Your spine shivered with how soft his kisses felt on your legs, your calves feeling cold to Joel’s warm lips kissing them. He trailed the kisses down towards the back of your knees, down to your thighs.
Your mind was going into shock at how soft Joel was being. A few minutes ago, he was fucking your brains out, and now he’s tenderly kissing your legs. And now you didn't know what to —
You gasped in awe and enjoyment as Joel’s mouth reached your hole. His tongue was swirling around like he was licking a lollipop. You gripped the gray bedsheets next to you and tried your best to hide your moans.
“Mmmhm, city boy, If I knew you’d tasted this good, I would’ve eaten you out sooner,” Joel exclaimed.
Your hands found their way to your face. You wanted to moan but this would validate that you were ready for him but you wanted to see what —
You yelped as a hard and fast slap came to your balls; you knew Joel was trying to force a moan out of you with his rules.
“C’mon, city boy, I can tell you're enjoying this. Moan for me, baby,” Joel breathed.
Your body betrayed you, and you moaned per Joel’s command. Your body was on overdrive, and it felt immensely addicting.
“That's right, baby; moan for me.”
Your moans kept slipping from your lips, and you enjoyed every second of it. Joel’s hands traveled all over your knees, thighs, and stomach.
His touch felt devilish, addicting. It felt like you depended on his hands, mouth, and cock to fill this overstimulating you had.
“You ready for this cock again, city boy?” Joel asked.
You nodded, and your breaths came out as moans prepared for his cock once again.
Joel stood up from his knees, and that's when you see Joel’s cock. Throbbing, pre cum leaking from the slit. Minutes ago, that cock had cum shooting inside you; it should’ve been soft at that moment.
But his cock looked like it was before the whole situation started; hard, throbbing, begging to cum.
Joel catches your eyes as your are shocked at his massive length.
“Impressive, huh?”
You reflexively nod your head in hunger, his cock will be inside you again, and you can't wait.
Joel lowers his face to kiss you. His hand travels to your throat as he lightly tightens his grip around your neck. You gasp, and Joel sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel’s moans were quiet, but you could hear them, even with the shuffling of sheets.
“You ready for round two, city boy?”
He kisses you before you get to answer.
“Yes, yes, Joel, I am.”
Joel backs up from your face, and you crawl backward to have your head on top of the pillows below you.
Joel shrugs his flannel off his shoulder and crawls over you. His face inches from yours, his tanned bare chest hovering away from your bare chest.
He adjusts his cock, and you can feel it press up against your hole. Joel slowly slides his cock inside you. You exclaim in pain, but you can't help but feel pleasure all at the same time.
Your legs are over Joel’s shoulder as he starts slow and then goes faster. Your moans were bouncing over the bedroom that Joel and Adaline shared.
This feeling was unbearable, but you didn't care. The pleasure was worth it.
“How do you get so fuckin’ tight, baby boy,” Joel growled.
Joel’s eyes darkened; that same look of rage and determination was back on his face. Heavily breathing through his teeth and you gripping his shoulders so hard, you could make crescent moon shapes on his shoulders.
“Joel! Oh my fucking god, I love this so much!” You yelled.
“I love it when you talk dirty, city boy.”
“Your tight pussy doesn't want to let go of my cock. I’m fuckin’ obsessed with it,” Joel breathed.
Joel wraps his forearms around your legs, making your calves close to his ears. You exclaim in pleasure as he’s fucking you this rough again.
This feeling: It was more than an addiction, a sense; it was indescribable. This immense pleasure you’ve never felt before, and you loved everything.
“J-Joel, slow down; you not gonna last if you go so fast,” You breathed.
“I can't help it, city boy. This tight ass needs my cock. I can tell you need it; I’m going crazy, baby.”
“I- love it, Joel. Just slow down for a second.”
With that, Joel’s hips started to slow down, he was on the brink of coming, but he didn't care. He just wanted you to feel something: Good, lustful, ecstatic, wanted.
He closed his eyes and kissed you as he could feel your heart almost exploding. He let go of your calves as Joel’s hands were beside your head.
His hips started the pace again. He was pumping like he was on a mission. He didn't want to stop this time; he wanted to cum, inside you to show you that you were his, no one else's.
“Ugh, fuck Joel, your seriously going to break me!” You clenched your teeth.
“That’d be the idea, baby. Your mine, no one else’s,” Joel growled.
You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol in your system or just your mind, but you understood when Joel said you were his and no one else’s.
You hated/loved how much that turned you on.
“City boy, I’m going to cum, again. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Joel, pump your hot cum inside of me.”
Joel clenched his teeth so hard one could out from his gums. His hands were gripping your thighs; they could cause bruising.
Your mind was blanking out as Joel was speeding the pace in his hips even more.”
“Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” Joel yelled.
With one thrust, two, and three thrusts, Joel’s cum shot inside you again. You could feel the warm liquid sit inside you. Joel’s forehead had beads of sweat covering it. He leaned down and kissed your lips softly.
“You’re gonna stay the night, and I don't want anyone to see the pleasure I gave you tonight. That’s for my eyes only.”
You nodded, having no other words to say. Joel slips his cock out of you and lays down next to you, breathing heavily. Your head finds his chest, over his heart. You can hear how fast his heart is pumping. You were so exhausted that you fell asleep on Joel’s sweaty chest.
tags: @evans55 @odetodilfs @jrrmint <would lose it @groggygrogu @ihugpedro @strang3lov3 <would lose it
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#joel miller#joel miller x male reader#joel the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x male reader#forbidden romance#romance#joel miller smut#pedro pascal smut#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#x male reader#joel tlou#tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou#joel fic#joel smut#joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader
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“my arm is going to lose circulation if you keep doing that.”
tsukishima glares—or attempts to—at you and scoffs. of course you won’t budge. “it’s not going anywhere, can you let go please?”
you pout, displeased with your boyfriend’s comment. you haven’t seen him all day and only 30 minutes ago had you entered his apartment. needless to say, you currently cling to him like a koala.
he wrangles himself free of your grasp, relieved for his lungs and limbs. walking over to your shared closet—really just his clothes you steal—he rummages before finding something and tossing it your way. “here’s a sweatshirt. that make you feel better?”
you feel your frustration spill over and look at him with a frown. “that’s not the same thing!” you cry, tossing the clothing aside, “why would i want that when you’re right here?”
he blinks, glaring at the sight of your small tantrum. “hey, chill out.” he flicks your forehead before kissing the very spot.
he becomes silent, knowing he can’t argue with your logic. for once, you actually have a very valid point. and maybe, just maybe tsukishima likes when you’re clingy.
you sniffle, watching him settle back at his desk. you’re prepared to go and slip the sweatshirt on but you’re stopped when he softly calls your name.
“come here.” he scoots his chair back and pats his lap.
you stare at him with wide eyes, and wait for someone to pinch you. to wake you up from your dream.
tsukishima blushes a light red, the color spreading through his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “i’m going to retract my offer in a minute if you don’t hurry up.” he threatens, and you can tell he’s flustered by the way he awkwardly has his arms open.
you practically leap into his lap, and he grunts softly at the impact. another blush creeps up his neck and you plant several kisses on his skin. he adjusts you so your legs wrap around his waist as he sits in the chair.
“is that better now?” he asks, his voice rumbling against you at a frequency you know and love.
you curl impossibly further into him. “much better now.” a pleased hum leaves you and you smile.
you hear kei humming a song you recognize as one from your shared playlist and you become elated. he’s not the best singer, but he only really ever hums or sings when he’s around you, and nothing can beat the feeling of being special.
one of kei’s hand slip up your lower back and he rubs small circles up your spine. the gesture makes you drowsy, and you feel yourself begin to fall asleep.
when kei feels the weight of your head on his chest, he almost says your name before he looks down. his heart swells when he sees you fast asleep, hands gripping onto his t-shirt. you look so…peaceful in his hold and he’s glad that no one else but him can hold you like this. see you like this. never in a million years would he want to see you in someone else’s arms.
he smiles, carefully shifting you in his hold so that he can still work. his large hand cradles the back of your head before he presses several kisses to your forehead, his silent way of showing how grateful he is for you. of being able to have you and cherish you and love you like he should.
after awhile he decides to take a break. he picks you in his arms before he moves to your shared bed. he hears you call his name, your voice small and confused.
kei carefully slides in next to you, hushing you quietly. “it’s okay. you’re okay, sweet girl. just go back to sleep. i’m right here.” he says softly, pulling you on top of his chest.
“m‘kay.” you mumble, closing your eyes again.
and you’re sure you’re not hallucinating but if you weren’t so drowsy, you could clearly hear kei mumble ‘love you’ before you fall back asleep.
do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though! (c) 2022 hyeque
#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x you#tsukishima drabble#tsukishima kei drabble#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima kei fluff#tsukki fluff#tsukki x reader#tsukki x you#haikyu fluff#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq#hq x reader#hq drabble#hq fluff#tsukishima headcanons
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ace
sex on fire chapter six
this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply
pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader
summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing
word count: 9.7k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
“Good girl. He there?”
The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.
“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.
“He watching?”
“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.
“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”
The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.
You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.
It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?
You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.
That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.
But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.
As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.
“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.
“It was an endearin’ whistle.”
“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”
He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”
“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”
You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.
“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”
You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.
In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”
You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.
You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”
It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.
There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.
No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.
Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.
“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”
You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.
Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.
You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.
“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”
You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.
Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.
“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”
Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.
“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”
The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.
“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”
“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.
He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”
“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”
You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”
Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.
“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”
“We’re going golfing?”
Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.
“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.
His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.
Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.
You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.
She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.
“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”
“And I’m coming – why?”
“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”
Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.
“And I want you there with me.”
Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.
That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.
To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:
“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”
“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.
“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”
“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”
“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”
My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.
You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.
“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.
Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”
You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.
Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.
“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”
You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”
She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”
----------
Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.
On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.
Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.
You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.
“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.
“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”
You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”
She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”
“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”
“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”
“Mhm.”
“Any…dress code?”
“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”
She laughs. “Alright.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”
“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”
“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”
You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.
“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”
“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”
Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”
“Not – a date,” you repeat.
You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”
You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.
“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”
“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”
You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”
Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”
“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”
“He’s aware.”
“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”
“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”
She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”
“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”
“Riley’s pregnant.”
Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”
Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”
“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”
“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”
“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”
“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”
“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”
You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.
Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.
But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.
Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.
You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”
The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.
It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.
His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.
And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.
----------
Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.
“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.
You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”
He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.
He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.
----------
When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.
A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.
You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.
“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”
You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”
He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”
You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.
“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”
“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”
“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.
“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.
“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”
He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”
You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”
“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”
You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.
“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.
You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.
“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”
“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”
Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”
You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”
“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”
He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.
“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”
“I know,” he affirms.
“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”
“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”
----------
Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.
You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?
He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.
“What?” he asks, smiling.
“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”
“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”
He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.
The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.
You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.
Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.
You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.
Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.
“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?
Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”
You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”
“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.
You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.
“Total beginner,” you admit.
Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”
Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.
The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.
“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”
Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.
“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”
Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.
Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”
Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.
“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”
You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”
Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.
Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.
----------
There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.
Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.
Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.
Joel nudges your elbow.
“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.
He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”
“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”
“Hm.”
The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.
When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.
And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.
Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.
His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.
He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.
You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.
“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.
You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.
“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.
“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.
“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”
You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.
“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”
The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.
“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”
“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.
He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.
“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”
You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.
“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.
“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”
He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”
----------
You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.
“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.
“Last time, promise.”
Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.
“Your round, asshole.”
Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.
“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.
“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”
“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.
He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”
“Me, too,” you admit.
Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.
“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.
You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.
“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”
He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –
“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.
You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.
“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”
You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”
He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”
Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”
He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.
You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.
You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.
“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”
Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.
“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”
Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”
You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.
He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.
“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”
He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”
“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”
Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”
His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.
You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”
“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”
You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.
“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”
You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.
“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”
“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”
He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.
He isn’t given the option.
Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”
Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.
“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.
The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.
You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.
Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.
You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.
“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.
You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”
“And did you want to go?”
Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”
“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”
You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.
Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.
But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.
Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.
And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.
When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.
“You wanna go?”
You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”
He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.
Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.
The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.
“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.
“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”
He snorts. “Office, Joel?”
“Office, Rand.”
As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.
And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.
“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”
Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”
You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”
And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”
Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.
“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.
You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”
And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.
It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.
You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.
Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.
“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.
Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.
Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.
He’s hard. Already.
“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.
He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.
“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”
“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.
Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.
“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.
You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.
You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.
His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.
You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.
“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.
“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.
“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”
You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.
And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.
Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.
“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”
You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”
Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”
He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.
Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.
You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”
You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.
“Baby?”
It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.
Fuck it. Right?
“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.
Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”
You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.
“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”
“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”
“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”
“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.
“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.
“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.
“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”
By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.
Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.
“Good girl. He there?”
The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.
“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.
“He watching?”
“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.
“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”
You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.
Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.
“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.
Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.
His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”
Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”
“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.
You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.
Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.
“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.
You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.
“Just y-you, daddy.”
And you both fall.
You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.
You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.
Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.
You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.
“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.
His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.
“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”
He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.
When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.
Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”
You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”
Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.
You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.
“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.
“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”
He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”
You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”
His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”
The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.
“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.
“Excuse me?” she yells back.
He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”
“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.
You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.
“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”
You lift your brows and nod along.
“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”
----------
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Just Like That — h.joshua
» seventeen masterlist «
playlist: fever — enhypen; light a flame — seventeen; sexuality — taemin
➮ incubus!Joshua × f!reader
wc: 16k
summary: fantasizing about her handsome and sweet coworker has some unintended consequences for Y/N when an incubus shows up in her home after unintentionally summoning him with what she thought was just gibberish.
genres/themes/au: angst, one sided pining, smut; religious themes, supernatural themes, demonic themes; non idol au, demon au
warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!
permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @deadgirlwalking3
seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @drunk-on-dk @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @98-0603 @briannabk22 @vampiirose @plants-w0rld @dementedaly @generic-teez-127 @sweetlylemon
unable to tag: @prestineaugstine @imwhoever @lunaryoongie
join my taglists: main
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a/n: this is just pure filth and I won't apologize lol I did this to torture the bestie. It was supposed to be a timestamps lol and it turned into 16k. Thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.
A huge thank you to @kpop-stories-21 & @anyamaris for sprinting with me back to back and essentially keeping me company while I worked on this 💕
Translation notes: Cur curritis is google translate latin for ‘why are you running?’ disclaimer: I do not know latin so this could be wildly inaccurate because it’s google translate. Likewise, Mortalem te interro- gavi is what I got for ‘i asked you a question, mortal.’ Again, I don’t know latin. I just used google translate. I’m not going for accuracy here lol. The incantation, Te invoco a profundus inferni is from Supernatural lol
smut warnings: unprotected sex (pls use protection), tentacles, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, doll, angel, slut, etc), marking (f receiving), spanking (f receiving) , spitting, choking (f receiving) , fingering (f receiving), slight somnophilia, rough sex, anal, double penetration, multiple orgasms (f receiving), creampie, breeding kink, big d!ck!Joshua being a menace to my sanity, dom!Shua, sub!Reader, and I think that's everything but of course, let me know if I missed something!
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Autumn was in the air. The mornings had become chilly, frosty dew covered grass crunching underfoot that gave way to cool days, the sun warming just enough but not burning. The scent of the holidays hung in the air as you noticed decor going up on your way to work in the mornings.
The only coffee shop in town had finally put up their fall menu and despite how much flack you got for it, you were excited that the pumpkin cakes and warm vanilla chai lattes with a sprinkle of cinnamon and Halloween themed foam designs were back. On your days off, you could enjoy a steaming mug, adoring the jack-o-lantern face staring back at you from atop your drink.
On days like today, you opted for the to-go version of your favorite vanilla latte, grabbing an americano as well as two slices of pumpkin cake, topped with chopped candied walnuts. The bell rang, the sound crystal clear as you exited the shop and headed down the sidewalk littered with fallen leaves in various shades of browns, oranges, and yellows.
Children hurried on by, on their way to school as you walked, rounding the corner and heading for the end of the block where the antique shop you worked at stood, the old brick building stood. It was a much older building than the ones that stood around it, the brick darker and more weatherworn.
You let out a sigh, breath hanging briefly in the cool air as you looked at the storefront. White and black striped awnings hung over the large windows, gold lettering adorning the glass in a curly script that read ‘Pandora’s Box’. You crossed the cobblestone street, heading for the old wooden door and pressed down on the handle. It turned under your hand and allowed you to enter the shop.
A soft bell rang out and immediately you could hear shuffling coming from the back of the shop.
“Sorry!” a voice called out. “We’re closed!” You ignored the voice as you moved around behind the front counter and set down both coffees and the paper bag with the pumpkin cake. You were taking off your coat when your coworker and owner of the voice appeared and glanced over at you.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, perking up and straightening his tan colored apron. You fought the urge to giggle as he walked over to the door and peered outside the window before turning the lock and looking over at you. “Thought I locked that when I came in,” he said as you removed your scarf and hung it up with your coat on the hook behind your seat.
“What’s this?” Joshua asked, looking down at the two coffees. You picked yours up and took a sip before picking the second one up and held it out for him. “You got me coffee?” he asked, taking the cup gently from you. “Hot americano, extra cream,” you answered, setting your cup down. “I also got us some-” you were interrupted by a sharp knocking at the window of the door.
Both you and Joshua turned to look and saw an older woman standing at the door. It was the elderly woman that lived out on Broome street. “Isn’t that the cat lady?” Joshua whispered, turning his head to look at you as he set his cup down. “Mrs. Briggs,” you reminded him.
Joshua moved to the door and unlocked it, opening the door and no doubt giving the grumpy old woman a pleasant smile. “How can I help you Mrs. Briggs?” he asked in his sweet voice. The old woman wore a very old fur coat that was a bit ratty, almost as if it hadn’t been taken proper care of.
Under the brown fur, she wore a mustard yellow turtleneck sweater with a long brown skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Under she had brown stockings and some brown low heels. She had all of her gray hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun complete with a yellow scrunchie. In her hands she carried a basket full of different knick knacks and trinkets.
“I need to drop these off,” she said in a gruff voice as she attempted to push past Joshua who blocked her path. She looked up at him, lips parted in a look of pure shock. “Who are you?” she demanded. Joshua gave her his famous smile. The one that had all the girls in the coffee shop swooning or the high school girls giggling as he passed by.
Joshua had only lived in this town for a few years now. He moved into the space above the shop which was owned by his aunt. His uncle had originally run the shop but after his uncle got sick and passed away, Joshua moved in to help his aunt out. He was only supposed to be in town for a short time but he decided to stay after a year.
Joshua smiled at Mrs. Briggs. “It’s Joshua, Mrs. Briggs,” he reminded her. She looked positively outraged. “Well where is Bill?” she demanded angrily. “Uncle Bill passed away three years ago, Miriam,” you said, moving from behind the counter and approaching the door.
Upon seeing you, Mrs. Briggs looked much calmer. “Y/N!” she said desperately. You sent a subtle wink Joshua’s way and took over, keeping the old woman at the door. “I need to drop this off. I can’t have it in the house anymore,” she said, holding out the basket. You nodded, looking down and back up.
“Okay, Miriam. Let me just get my pad of paper and we’ll take care of it,” you said, turning to grab the pad from the counter. In your momentary lapse, Mrs. Briggs had managed to push the door open. Joshua moved forward but you waved him off. “I got this,” you mouthed as the woman set her basket on the counter. Joshua nodded and started to head to the back when you called him back, holding out his coffee and the paper sack.
He took them from you and you told him you’d eat your pumpkin cake later.
It took all of ten minutes to check in all the items Mrs. Briggs had brought in and when you were done, you gently ushered her to the door and waved her off before shutting and locking the door. Joshua reappeared, peering around. “You think after three years, she’d know who I am,” he said, moving to lean on the counter as you finished adding the items to the store’s inventory.
“She’s got Alzheimer’s,” you said softly as you worked. Joshua said nothing, watching you write instead. When you finished the line you were on, he finally spoke. “Sorry,” he whispered. You glanced up as you capped the pen and smiled at him. “It’s okay,” you responded, setting the pen aside and flipping the page to a new sheet. “She’s a mean old lady, even before her diagnosis. Very pushy and rude,” you replied as you started to place the items back in the basket.
Joshua moved to help you. “Did she want the basket back?” he asked as you worked together. You shook your head. “No,” you said with a chuckle. “The only thing Mrs. Briggs has more than cats are baskets. I don’t think she’ll be missing this one.” You gave him a wink and made to grab the handles. He stopped you, taking the basket himself. “I got this,” he said and nodded towards the back.
“Your slice of pumpkin cake is in the back. I’ll finish opening up, you go eat.”
You smiled, thanking him before heading to the break room in the back. It wasn’t so much a room as it was an area blocked off. There was a small kitchenette with a mini fridge, microwave, and a sink. In the middle of the space was a small round table with three wooden chairs. Sitting on the table was the paper sack. You washed your hands quickly and took a seat, opening the bag.
The pumpkin cake was delicious as always and you savored each bite. As you were finishing it, Joshua’s voice rang out from the front. “I’m going to open the shop!” he called. You stuffed the last bite of cake in your mouth and got up, tossing the paper sack in the bin and washed your hands, chewing hastily as you dried your hands and hurried back to the front.
Joshua stood behind the counter and looked up as you approached. “You didn’t have to come up here,” he chuckled as you grabbed your own apron from under the counter and put it on. “I was finished anyway,” you replied, attempting to tie your apron strings. Joshua laughed softly and moved to stand behind you. “Here,” he said softly, taking the ties from you and carefully tying them.
“It’s a lot easier when you have help,” he said, his voice soft and breath hitting the back of your neck.
Your cheeks burned and you were thankful he couldn’t see the way you drew your bottom lip between your teeth or hear the way your heart hammered in your chest or feel the heat rush to your core.
“There,” he said simply and moved to grab the paper he’d been reading. “All set.”
You forced a smile, turning your head before moving to your usual spot behind the counter and taking a seat on the stool.
It wasn’t the first time you’d had this reaction to Joshua and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
You weren’t proud to admit it, but you’d had more than one fantasy about your coworker. It was his fault really for being so nice and polite and sweet. Not to mention incredibly handsome and when he pushed his sleeves up, exposing his forearms, you could feel your panties stick to you every time he did something so effortlessly.
It was no secret half the women in town found Joshua attractive and you were one of them. Unfortunately for you, he was your coworker and although Bill wasn’t around anymore, Joshua seemed to adhere to the strict no dating coworkers policy Bill had. Of course, Bill was married and he was usually the only one in the shop until you joined.
You weren’t in the habit of dating bosses so you never cared much about the policy but now it was driving you mad. Especially during the times it felt like Joshua was flirting with you though you never truly knew for sure if he was serious or just being playful. It was hard to tell with him.
The morning flew by after opening the shop. It wasn’t like you were busy. Most of the customers that came in only wanted to look around and very few ever bought anything. Sometimes you’d have town residents come by and drop off their old things. Most of your job was cashiering and inventory.
Joshua did most of the restoration work that came with old furniture as well as other physical tasks like carrying the larger items out to customers’ cars or moving large furniture items to make space for new items. When you weren't busy ringing someone up or filling out an inventory sheet, you’d find yourself watching Joshua work, admiring the way he lifted things with ease. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater hours ago, exposing his forearms and the veins that peeked out whenever he exerted any force.
You tried not to make it obvious you were staring but sometimes he’d glance over and catch you, prompting you to turn your gaze back to the crossword puzzle you were absentmindedly filling out with bogus answers in pencil. When you looked away, you missed the way Joshua’s smile turned into more of a smirk. He knew you were watching him and he knew he had an effect on you to some extent.
But not the full extent.
He didn’t know how you sometimes thought about him late at night as you teased yourself with your fingers or how you imagined it was his fingers as you pushed them into your aching heat. He didn’t know it was him that you dreamed about riding or that you wondered how his cock tasted.
And he never would.
The sun had started to set when Joshua finally locked the front door. You stretched your arms above your head, letting out the tiniest of squeaks as he walked over. “You can head home,” he said, leaning against the counter, resting his palms against the surface.
“I can close up here,” he added. You shook your head. “It’s okay, you answered. “I don’t have any plans.” Joshua tilted his head, trying to hold back a smirk. “No exciting hot dates?” he asked as you opened the register. You snorted, shaking your head. “No,” you replied.
“Why not?” he asked as you started to count the bills in the till. You looked up to meet his gaze. You hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “Uh…” you trailed off as you stopped counting. “I guess I just haven’t met someone,” you answered. Joshua’s head tilted the opposite way at that.
“You haven’t?” he pressed. It seemed like he was trying to make a point but you weren’t sure what he expected you to say. You shook your head. “Well,” you continued. “Not anyone that’s available,” you added softly, turning your gaze back down to continue counting.
You finished counting the bills and moved onto the change as Joshua watched you. When you finished and wrote down the total, adding it to the records book, Joshua finally spoke. “How about we finish up here and then go get dinner,” he offered. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you turned away from the shelf where you stored the records book.
Turning to look at him, you found him already looking at you, a smile and expectant look.
“O-okay,” you said softly, mentally cursing yourself for stammering. Joshua smiled and turned away before heading to the back of the shop to make sure everything was locked up while you pulled out the profits from the register and placed them into a bank bag and headed for the back where you found Joshua grabbing the broom. “Here,” you said, holding out the bank bag.
He looked up as he separated the dustpan from the broom. He nodded towards the door that led upstairs. “Just set it up on the counter up there,” he said as he moved past you for the door back into the shop. “What?” you asked, turning as he stopped at the door. “Just put it on the kitchen counter up here,” he said with a smile. You glanced at the door to the stairs and then back at Joshua.
“You mean in your apartment?”
He nodded, the smile spreading. “Yeah,” he answered. “Here.” You watched as he reached into his pocket and fished out his keys before tossing them to you. “Just let yourself in.”
With that, he disappeared into the front and left you standing in the break area. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the door and took hold of the knob. ‘You got this Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘It’s just his apartment.’
You turned the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked softly as you peered into the dimly lit hall. The bottom landing was small and immediately went into the staircase. You shut the door behind you and started up the stairs, each step creaking under foot.
At the top, you managed to pick out the right key and unlocked the door before pushing it open.
Whatever you’d been expecting, it was not this. You’d only ever seen this space once and it was a mostly empty space with a few furniture items stored up here. It was dusty, dark save for the large glass windows at the back of the space that looked out into a small courtyard that backed up to a wooded area. The space had been transformed into a functional studio apartment.
A kitchen had been installed, brown counters with white quartz tops lined the wall against the stairs. A kitchen island separated the kitchen space from the living space. Facing a brick wall was a comfortable looking sofa with a low table between it and a media stand where a large flatscreen stood.
You walked further into the apartment, shutting the door behind you as you continued to look around.
The media stand held numerous DVDs and knick knacks. A knitted blanket lay folded over the arm of the cream colored couch with warm brown accent pillows. On the coffee table sat a small mirrored tray with a gold rim. In the middle was a small tv remote and a couple candles.
Against the wall under the windows stood a side table running the length of one of the windows. It had doors with small brass knobs and most likely held an assortment of different things. ‘Probably storage,’ you told yourself as you turned away from the living room.
Behind the couch was a partition wall that didn’t reach the ceiling. It was made of bamboo and straight geometric shapes with a sheer material on one side to create a separate bedroom space.
The bed was a large king size, wooden frame with clawed feet. You recognized it as one of the pieces that had been stored up here before. Joshua must have cleaned and restored it because the last time you saw it, the wood was dull and coated with a thick layer of dust.
At the end of the bed was a small bench with a folded blanket and a space to sit. Oh either side of the bed were matching nightstands in matching wood to the bed frame. The bed linens were creams and browns, both neutral but cozy and inviting.
Next to the bedroom space at the end of the kitchen was a small folding door housing what you assumed was a pantry and next to that was another door which you could only assume led to a bathroom.
Between the bed and the bathroom stood a large armoire with double doors. It was another piece that you recognized being stored in the space and just like the bed frame, Joshua cleaned and restored it so it was almost unrecognizable.
Next to the armoire in the corner was a full length mirror leaning against the wall. The top was decorated with postcards and a few pictures. Before you had a chance to move closer and take a look, you heard the door behind you open and spun around to find Joshua entering the apartment.
The two of you stared at one another for a moment before he spoke. “I’m done downstairs,” he commented. “Thought you might have gotten lost,” he added with a smirk. You shook your head, still holding the bank bag. Joshua nodded towards it. “You gonna hold onto that?” he asked, amused when you quickly set it down on the kitchen island.
“Shall we then?” he asked, nodding towards the door. You nodded without another word and headed for the door quickly, much to his amusement. Joshua stopped you with his hand on your arm gently. You looked down at his hand and up to meet his gaze. He held out his other hand.
“Keys?” he asked simply. You dropped them in his hand and headed down the stairs as he chuckled to himself, closing the door and locking it before following you.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as you reached the landing. You nodded again. “Yeah,” you managed to say as he led the way into the front of the shop. “How does Italian sound?” he asked as you grabbed your things, pulling on your coat and scarf. You nodded, heading for the door as he followed.
“Italian sounds fine.”
Once the shop was locked up, the walk to the Italian restaurant didn’t take much time at all. It was a small place with only about 5 tables and a small bar. It was nestled between a bakery and butcher shop, all owned by the same family. Joshua held the door for you with a smile as you thanked him and stepped inside.
You’d been to this place maybe once or twice in the whole time you’d lived in this town. It had been owned by the same family for generations and was currently being run by the grandchildren of the original owner. A young girl at the host stand smiled as you entered the building.
“Just two?” she asked. Joshua nodded as she gathered the menus and silverware, rolled up into black cloth napkins. She tucked the menus and silverware into her arm and picked up a pen, jotting something down on a piece of paper on the host stand before smiling at the two of you. “Right this way!”
She led you to a smaller table in the corner meant for couples. All the tables were round, most seating about four patrons. There was a small room off the main dining area with a much larger table meant for bigger parties. Along the wall were smaller tables with two chairs each and at the back was the bar. A long window allowed a look into the kitchen where you could catch glimpses of workers passing by.
A door at the far corner opposite your table allowed workers in and out of the kitchen. You removed your coat, laying it across the back of your chair and sat down as Joshua did the same and the hostess set the menus and silverware down on the table. “What can I get you started to drink?” she asked as you both settled into your seats.
“Just water,” you answered, not in the mood for soda or coffee. Joshua smiled at the hostess as he glanced over the drink menu. “A glass of cabernet, please,” he said politely. He turned to look at you. “You sure you just want water?” he asked, tilting his head. You looked down at the menu, eyes scanning before finding something that sounded good. “I’ll just have a limoncello martini,” you said, looking up at the hostess who smiled and nodded. “I’ll go put those in and your server will be by soon,” she chirped.
“And I’ll still bring you that water,” she added with a wink your way before heading off.
You looked down at the menu, flipping it over to look at the entrees. The menu wasn’t huge but they had a lot of options to choose from. As your eyes scanned, you could feel eyes on you and glanced up through your lashes to find Joshua already doing the same. He glanced back down, a smirk tugging at his lips. You looked back down, trying to finalize your decision.
“I can’t choose,” you heard him say softly. “I’m stuck between the tuscan-grilled sirloin or the mezzaluna,” he added, glancing up to meet your gaze. “Well they have an option to do both,” you offered, looking over the combinations. “You could get a 7 oz sirloin and a half order of mezzaluna,” you read off the menu. “That way you don’t have to choose.”
Joshua nodded as he looked at the menu. “What are you getting?” he asked softly, looking up once more. “The chicken,” you answered, setting your menu down as the host returned, setting two glasses of water down. You thanked her and picked it up, taking a sip. “Which chicken?” Joshua asked as he lifted his own glass, keeping his eyes trained on you.
Before you could answer, the server arrived. She was around the same age as the hostess and looked like she could be an older sister. “Hey,” she said breathlessly and you could only assume she’d been running all over the restaurant, serving multiple tables. “Your drinks should be coming from the bar in just a moment,” she said as she pulled out a pad and a pen. “Would you like to start with an appetizer?” she asked, looking between the two of you.
Before you could say anything, Joshua answered.
I’d actually like to get an order of the cozze in bianco,” he said without even looking at the menu. “I’ve tried just about every other starter but I haven’t tried the mussels,” he added. The server smiled as she jotted that down. “They’re really good,” she answered. “I’m not just saying that cause I work here,” she continued. “They’re genuinely delicious. It’s my grandma’s recipe,” she added.
You looked up, intrigue written across your face. “You’re part of the family?” you asked. She nodded with a proud smile. “Fourth generation,” she clarified. “My great grandparents started the place. My grandparents just retired and now my uncle and dad are running the place,” she explained, pointing at two men behind the bar.
“My sister is one of the hosts,” she added, pointing to the host stand where the hostess who had seated you stood. “I thought you might be related,” you said with a triumphant smile. It felt good knowing your instincts were spot on. “Yeah!” the server said. “Anyway, I’ll get this in,” she said, tapping the pad with her pen. “Then I’ll grab your drinks and come back to take your meal order,” she added with a smile and an “I’ll be right back.”
Once she left, Joshua turned to look at you. “I guess it really is a family business,” he said with an amused tone. You nodded, uncertain of what to say. Silence fell over the two of you as you waited for the server to return. You glanced up from the menu to find Joshua reading over the list of wines. “So,” you said softly, drawing his attention away from the paper.
“You’ve been here a lot?” you asked. Joshua smiled, setting the wine list down. “Been here? Sort of,” he answered. “This place is right around the corner from the shop,” he started to explain as you took another sip of water. “It’s perfect for getting carryout,” he added. “I’ll just call and place an order and then come pick it up and take it home.”
You listened patiently as he explained. “I don’t go out much,” he continued. You tilted your head as he spoke. “How come?” Joshua looked up from the table, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know many people,” he admitted softly. “So you just stay in your apartment?” you questioned.
He nodded slowly. “Sometimes I go visit my aunt but my cousin recently moved back in with her and we don’t exactly…” he trailed off, thinking of the right words. “Get along.” Before you could ask any more, the server returned with your drinks, setting the wine in front of Joshua and the cocktail in front of you.
“So,” she said with a smile as she pulled out her notepad and pen. “What can I get you?”
After ordering, your conversation with Joshua shifted to other things. You talked about what he did in his spare time, discussing his taste in movies, books, and more. It was the most you’d ever gotten the chance to speak to him but it was nice to learn more about the man you spent half your day with four days a week. You wanted to consider Joshua a friend and hoped he could do the same.
The food was amazing. The mussels were cooked to perfection and though you were never big on them, Joshua got you to try at least one and you were surprised by how good it was. Your meals arrived just as you were finishing the last of your appetizers.
His steak looked incredible and he’d asked for marsala sauce on top. Your chicken was juicy and tender and the lemon butter sauce was perfect. You were glad you decided to forgo the capers in the end. The portions were just right and you were left feeling full but not stuffed at the end.
As your server took your empty dishes, she asked if you had saved room for dessert. Joshua glanced at you. “We’ll look over the menu,” he said and she nodded, moving to take your empty plates away. Joshua looked over the dessert menu. “I don’t think I could any more,” you commented. “Not without hating myself afterwards.” Joshua snorted and handed the menu to you.
“We could always split something,” he offered.
You looked over the page, eyes scanning the sheet. There were staples like tiramisu and cannolis but there were also unique twists on traditional pieces like a cannoli cake. You spotted a chocolate cake as well as cheesecake. “I’m not sure,” you said softly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth before handing the menu back. “You decide. I’m sure whatever you pick will be delicious,” you added.
Joshua looked over the menu as the server returned. “Made a decision?” she asked to which Joshua nodded. “One slice of the cannoli cake,” he answered, handing her the menu. “We’ll take it to go,” he added and she nodded, moving to put in the order and bring the check. You moved to open your bag but Joshua stopped you. “This is on me,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.
“No, it’s okay!” you said as you pulled your own wallet out. Joshua shook his head. “I insist,” he said more firmly. “I asked you to join me. It’s my treat,” he continued. Sensing you weren’t going to win this argument, you let him have his victory.
When the server returned with the check, Joshua immediately handed her his card and she walked away. While she was gone, you replaced your wallet in your bag and looked up to meet Joshua’s gaze. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For dinner.” Joshua returned the smile as the server returned with his card and the cannoli cake slice already bagged up.
Joshua signed the slip as the server smiled at you. “How was everything?” she asked.
“Oh it was amazing,” you answered as you finished your cocktail. “Better than I remembered,” you added. “Thank you so much,” Joshua said as he slipped a couple bills out of his wallet and tucked them behind the signed slip and handed them to the server. “The food and the service was incredible as always,” he added. The server thanked both of you before walking away.
Joshua stood up and grabbed his coat. You stood up quickly, gathering your things as he grabbed the togo bag and led the way to the door.
Outside, the sun had fully set behind the trees and the streetlamps outside had turned on. You pulled your coat on, noticing the chill that had set in. Joshua had already pulled his coat on and was watching as you slung your scarf around your neck. “Well, I should get home,” you said breathlessly.
Joshua gave you a peculiar look. “Don’t you want to come up and try this?” he asked, holding up the to-go bag. “We got it to split,” he reminded you.
Although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you agreed and followed Joshua down the sidewalk and around the corner. The shop loomed over the both of you in the darkness, only one dim streetlamp illuminating the space in front of it as Joshua reached the door and pulled out his keys.
He unlocked the door and stepped in, allowing you to enter after him. As he shut the door your eye fell on the basket on the counter. You were almost one hundred percent certain that hadn’t been there when you both left earlier. “Uh… what’s that?” you asked as Joshua closed and locked the door.
He looked to where you were pointing, setting the bag on the counter and moving to the basket.
“It almost looks like Mrs. Briggs basket,” he said as he grabbed the handle and pulled it towards him. “But the items are different.” You watched as he sifted through the items. “Could you uh…” he asked, turning to look at you. “I hate to ask since we’ve already closed up and it is pretty late, but could you inventory this for me?,” he continued.
“I really should learn how to do it myself.”
You nodded, moving around the counter to grab your pad and pen. You watched as he pulled each item out and set them on the counter. “None of these items are the same as the ones Mrs. Briggs brought earlier,” you said softly as you started to write down the items and the descriptions.
Your eyes fell onto a small statuette and you set your pen down before grabbing it and looking at it.
In the low light you could tell it was very old. It was a small animal statue. The material you couldn’t discern but it almost felt ceramic. It was a cute little calico kitty. You looked it over but couldn’t find any manufacturer or name. “Huh,” you huffed as you set it down, drawing Joshua’s attention.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. You looked up at him. “This little statue,” you replied, gesturing to the cat. Joshua picked it up and turned it to face him. “What about it?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know actually,” you said softly. “It just caught my eye.”
Joshua glanced up at you and back to the figurine in his hand. He set it back down in front of you. “Tell you what,” he said softly. “You can have it.” You looked up from the notepad, eyes wide. “What? Really?” you asked. He nodded and shrugged. “It’s just a little cat figurine,” he added. “Keep it,” he said.
You thanked him and went back to finishing inventorying all the items. When you were done and the basket packed back up save for your little calico figure, you followed Joshua up to his apartment where he started to unpack the slice of cake. The two of you stood around the kitchen island. “Here,” Joshua said, handing you a fork and using his own to take a bite.
You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, sighing in contentment. “That’s really good,” he murmured, turning to find you watching him. “Try it,” he urged, pushing the plate towards you. You gently stabbed your fork into the cake and brought a piece up to your mouth, fully aware Joshua was watching you intently. It felt oddly intimate, having him watch you so keenly.
Once you tasted the cake, however, his interest in watching you was made clear.
“Wow,” you said through a mouthful of cake, covering your mouth with your hand and looking up to meet his gaze. “That’s really good!” Joshua smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I know!” he exclaimed, taking another bite. The two of you continued to take bites of the cake until there was one little piece left.
You held your hands up and moved to the kitchen sink, rinsing your fork and placing it with the other dishes. “I’m done!” you said as Joshua turned. “The last bite is yours though,” he said with a frown. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “I’m good. You can have it.”
Joshua shook his head, moving to stand beside you. “No,” he replied, holding the piece for you. “It’s yours.” You looked from the piece of cake up to his face. He was waiting patiently for you to take the bite and although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you took the plunge anyway.
His eyes never left your face as you pulled back, chewing and swallowing the last bite of cake. “Okay,” you said, looking up. “Now I’m-”
Your words were cut short by Joshua pulling you in, lips crashing against yours. You moaned into the kiss as his lips parted yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. All you tasted was cake and saliva. He’d abandoned the plate the second you accepted his advances, discarding it on the counter behind you as one hand moved to your hip, the other staying put on the back of your neck.
Joshua guided your body away from the sink and against the kitchen island. You groaned as the counter dug into your back, a sound that Joshua swallowed as he deepened the kiss. “Fuck,” you hissed as his lips left yours, trailing over your cheek and down the side of your neck.
Without warning, he pulled back, spinning you to face the rest of the room, pushing you against the counter as he grinded against you, allowing you to feel his hard cock. “You have no idea how crazy you drive me,” he growled, one arm wrapping around your chest and holding you against him as he rutted against you. You let out a feeble moan, hands moving up to grab his arm as your legs threatened to give out under you. “J-Joshua,” you whimpered.
Your voice must have snapped him back to reality and just as quickly as it started, Joshua pushed away from you, facing the sink and gripping the sides as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.” You turned to face his back, hands on the counter behind you as you steadied yourself. “Wh-what just happened?” you panted.
Joshua shook his head and when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “I think you should go.”
Your brows knit together in confusion. Was he… kicking you out? After all that?
“What?” you whispered. Joshua raised his head but still didn’t turn to look at you.
“You should go home,” he said, his voice still strained. “This is wrong.”
You stared at the back of his head incredulously. He practically jumped you at the sink and almost bent you over the island of his kitchen and now he was backpedaling? You said nothing, instead grabbing your coat and scarf from the seat you left them on and headed for the door, yanking it open before stepping out onto the landing and slamming the door behind you.
Your footsteps were loud, echoing as you ran down the old wooden steps and into the back room of the shop.
Up front you reached the door in record time but stopped as something caught your eye. The little cat figurine was sitting on the counter, staring back at you. In a split second decision, you grabbed it. He had said you could keep it after all.
The bell rang softly as you exited the shop, slamming the door behind you and hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath before continuing on.
It was late. Really late you noticed as you walked in the direction of your home. The shops and restaurants had all closed for the night and there wasn’t a soul to be found as you walked down the deserted street.
The shops to your left were all dark, only a couple with running lights on in the back of the shop. On the right side, across the street was the park. It covered a good portion of the town, stretching for several blocks. The park was home to the playground, a pond, a dog park, and lots of walking trails.
It was covered in trees and lots of shrubbery. It was a lovely place to walk and visit all year round but right now it felt menacing and looming. You tried not to focus on it as you continued down the path before you, clutching the cat statue tightly in your hands.
It didn’t take long for you to finally reach your home, ignoring the chilly breeze that followed as you let yourself in and shutting the door behind you. It was an older home, built back before the town grew up. It was a family home, one you inherited from your parents after their passing. It was a cute craftsman style home with four bedrooms. You’d closed off the bedrooms upstairs, taking up residence in the master bedroom on the main floor.
You locked the door, listening for the click of the lock as it engaged before finally settling and feeling relieved. You shrugged your coat off and pulled the scarf from around your neck, hanging both up by the door before kicking your shoes off and heading into the living area.
You set the cat statue on the kitchen counter and moved to your fridge to grab some water. You always kept a few bottles of water in the fridge. Turning as you uncapped the bottle and started to sip, you jumped slightly at the glowing eyes peering in at you from the back window.
Once you realized it was only a cat, you berated yourself for overreacting and downed some more water before moving to the bedroom but only after making sure the doors and windows were locked.
In the safety of your room, you drew the blinds and curtains, quickly undressing and pulling on your pajamas. Your bed was all but calling your name as you pulled back the covers and climbed in, settling under the comforter as the exhaustion of the day weighed down on you.
You fell into a deep slumber, one you didn’t even remember falling into.
Your alarm woke you up at 630 on the dot and you groaned, lifting your head to peek at the red numbers. You really did not want to get out of bed. Mostly because you were comfortable in your warm cocoon and because the events of last night were flooding back in and you weren’t sure if you could even face Joshua after that.
You knew staying in bed and wallowing in your misery wasn’t going to help so as much as you didn’t want to, you turned your alarm off, threw the covers off your body and started to pull yourself from the depths of your bed.
As you sat up, you grabbed your phone sitting on the nightstand beside your half empty bottle of water.
Unlocking the screen you found you had a text waiting for you. From Joshua.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you tapped on the icon to read what he had to say.
Joshua: hey, don’t worry about coming in today. The shop is closed for some repairs. You’ll still get paid so don’t worry about that either. I’ll see you Monday
Your stomach dropped into your lap as you read his messages. So he couldn’t face you either? You weren’t sure what kind of repairs the shop could need. There wasn’t anything you noticed in the last few days. You chose to avoid deciphering what he meant and instead to use the day to get things done.
As you got up and started your morning, you took a shower and changed into clean clothes, opting for a light caramel colored sweater and light denim jeans. You gathered up your dirty clothes and took them to the small laundry room off your kitchen, setting a load and going about the rest of the house, cleaning and putting things back where they belonged.
Time ticked by as you worked, stopping briefly to take a lunch break when you realized you were low on groceries. Deciding to swap your washed clothes over to the dryer first, you set out from the house, donning your cream colored long coat but forgoing the scarf. Today was much warmer than the previous day.
Your walk from your neighborhood to the market only took a couple minutes and you greeted the cashier at the front as you entered and grabbed a bright yellow shopping trolley. You wheeled your cart through the aisles, grabbing items from your list off the shelves and crossing them off as they landed in the basket. You had just turned into the cereal aisle when you stopped dead in your tracks.
Halfway down the aisle was Joshua. He was smiling as he handed a box from the top shelf to an elderly woman. You couldn’t see her face so you didn’t know which resident it was. You tried to back up and head for another aisle but in your haste, you bumped into the display next to you, knocking a few cans of beans off the shelves.
Joshua and the woman heard the commotion and looked in your direction. ‘Oh brilliant,’ you thought to yourself as you knelt down to pick up the stray cans that rolled across the tile. As you stood up, Joshua and the woman had parted ways and he was currently walking in your direction.
You turned away as he approached, setting up the cans and trying to mimic the display they’d been in before.
“Hey,” you heard Joshua say softly. You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “Hey,” you mimicked.
The two of you said nothing, instead standing awkwardly before one another, looking anywhere that wasn’t the other person. ‘Why is this so awkward? Why are you even still standing here? Just walk away!’ You cleared your throat and forced another smile, laughing awkwardly as you took the handle of your trolley. “Well, I gotta go,” you said, your voice much higher pitched than before.
Joshua’s eyebrows shot up as you started to turn your cart and push it past him. He was quick, grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him, backing you up against the shelf of canned beans. Your breath caught in your throat as Joshua looked at you, eyes studying your face.
You saw them briefly look down to your lips and back up. Finally he spoke.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me.” you shook your head quickly. “It’s fine,” you squeaked. “Alcohol does that sometimes,” you added after clearing your throat. Joshua nodded, eyes still fixated on your lips as you spoke. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you continued.
The shift in his expression was unmistakable but you couldn’t tell what emotion he was conveying. “It… doesn’t?” he asked softly. You shimmied out of his grip, straightening your coat as you heard voices enter the aisle you were currently standing in. “No,” you replied. “It doesn’t.”
Joshua opened his mouth to respond but you stopped him. “Don’t worry about it,” you added. “Let’s just forget it. I’ll see you on Monday.”
You didn’t let him speak as you hurried away, pushing your cart into the next aisle to finish your shopping. You were grateful he didn’t attempt to follow you and luckily you didn’t see him again, which allowed you to return to the cereal aisle and grab a box of your favorite brand.
After visiting the dairy section, you headed to the front to check out. The next stop was the butchershop where you grabbed your usual cuts of chicken, pork, and beef before heading home to stock your fridge as well as fold and put away your clean laundry.
The task took longer than you were expecting and by the time the last towel was neatly tucked and folded, you saw that it was getting close to dinner time. You sighed, glancing at your fridge upon realizing you hadn’t prepared anything you bought yet.
You got up and walked over to the fridge and opened the door, looking at the contents and settled on one of the flank steaks you’d bought earlier. You grabbed the package and pulled it from the fridge as well as a couple other items and started with rinsing the vegetables you selected.
As you set the items on the counter, the small kitten figure caught your eye. You’d yet to find it a home in your place and moved to pick it up. As you did, a small portion of the bottom fell off onto the counter with a soft clatter and you cursed under your breath. It seemed as if the statuette had a small seal on the bottom that had seemingly come loose.
You turned the figure upside down and your eye caught the end of something shoved into the tiny space inside the ceramic figure. You carefully removed what turned out to be a rolled up piece of paper and set the figure down to start unrolling the paper.
Blackish text written in what you could only assume was a dark red ink adorned one side of the paper. You weren’t sure what it said but you could tell it was a different language. Possibly latin. Your brows furrowed as you read the words in your head before trying to sound them out.
“Te invoco a profundus inferni,” you read off in what you could only assume was terrible latin. You studied the paper for a moment longer before shrugging and turning to your trash bin, crumbling up the paper and tossing it away.
‘Out of sight, out of mind.’
Once rinsed, you started to prepare the potatoes, slicing them thinly before adding them to a glass baking dish. You worked over the dish and the stove simultaneously, making a cream sauce to add to the potatoes before sprinkling some cheese and panko over the top and putting in the oven.
While that baked, you poured yourself a glass of wine and turned on some music on your phone. The bottle was a new one you picked up earlier. While sipping on the wine, you prepared the steak for cooking, seasoning both sides since you didn’t have time to marinate it.
Soft jazzy tunes floated through the air as you went about the kitchen, heating a skillet before adding the steak which started sizzling immediately. You sipped on some more wine as you waited to flip the steak over. Your mind wandered as you waited, wondering what Joshua was up to before you forced the thought out of your head.
‘Stop thinking about him!’
You continued to listen to the music as your steak cooked, sizzling again when you flipped it onto the uncooked side. Once the steak was cooked to your liking, you pulled it from the pan and set it aside to rest while you checked your potatoes and added the chopped veggies to the hot pan, drizzling them with some oil. It was something you learned from your mother.
Once you were sure your veggies were done, the timer for the oven went off and you made a plate for yourself, sitting down at the kitchen island to eat. You had a dining room but as you lived alone, you saw no point in using the table. You could just eat at the island instead.
Just as you were cutting into the steak, you heard the doorbell ring and turned to look at the front door which you could just see from your spot. You waited for a moment before it rang again and you got up quickly, moving to answer it.
Pushing the curtain covering the window beside the door aside, you peered out onto the front step but saw no one. You contemplated opening the door but decided against it and instead looked through the peephole.
Again, you saw no one standing on the other side.
You took a step back, staring at the door in confusion until your thoughts were interrupted by three sharp knocks. You stared at the door and moved quickly back to peer through the hole. Again, the front step was empty. You moved to peer through the curtain but still saw nothing. You turned the deadbolt and backed away from the door, staring at it for a few moments more.
When nothing happened, you turned to head back to the kitchen to finish your dinner.
Just as you crossed the threshold into the living room, three loud knocks rang out from the door, causing you to whip around and head back to the door. This time you unlocked and opened the wooden door, leaving the metal storm door securely closed and locked.
Outside, just as you suspected, was no one. The street was deserted as the sun set behind the trees, casting everything in a bluish glow. The twilight glow. You peered out at your front porch, looking from side to side but not opening the outside door.
Seeing no one, you stepped back and shut the door, locking it once more before stepping back and waiting to see if someone knocked again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, you hadn’t seen anyone before so why would you see anyone this time?
As you were wondering, you heard something different. Loud, heavy footfalls on the steps outside, almost like someone stomping up the steps to your porch. Before you could move to throw open the door to confront the trickster, three loud pounds sounded at the door, the strength of it shaking the floor of your vestibule.
Your eyes widened, heart hammering in your chest as you backed away. Another three pounding slams sounded on the other side of your door. Followed by three more. You rushed to the door and as soon as your hand fell on the handle it all stopped.
You didn’t dare open the door this time. Instead, you made sure the front door was locked before going around the rest of the first floor to make sure all the doors and windows were secured and properly locked. When you were certain they were, you headed upstairs to check the windows and attic door.
Upon reaching the landing, you were horrified to see that the attic door was cracked open. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door, unmoving. You felt a cold chill run up your spine. Although you couldn’t see anything, you knew someone was looking back at you from the darkness.
You watched in horror as the cracked attic door slowly shut on its own. You blew off your sweep of the second floor of your home before running downstairs and grabbing your phone to call the police. As you waited for the operator to pick up you felt a breeze and looked to see your back door was open.
‘I just locked that!’ You were certain you’d locked that before going upstairs. You’d even done the tug test on it. The line clicked and you were greeted with the sound of breathing.
“Hello?” you asked into the receiver frantically. When no one answered but the breathing started to turn into distorted voices and then a deep rumbling growl you hung up and dropped your phone onto the counter next to your plate.
The corners of your eyes burned as you wandered cautiously towards the open door. You peered out the door into the dark and in an instant, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Your breathing sped up as you tried in vain not to hyperventilate.
Standing outside your door, just beyond the reach of the back porch light was a dark figure. There were no distinguishing features, no eyes, nothing to tell you anything other than the fact that someone… or something, was standing outside your door.
Without thinking, you rushed the door and slammed it shut, turning the lock before backing away.
The shrill tone of your phone sounded out and you rushed to pick it up without checking the screen.
“Hello?” you all but shouted. “Ma’am this is [xxx]. We received a call from this number moments ago. Do you have an emergency?” relief flooded your body as you almost passed out from the stress.
“Yes!” you said quickly. “I think someone is in my attic,” you answered. No sooner than you said those words, you heard a loud crash from upstairs. “He might have left the attic and is in the house,” you whispered, your body starting to shake.
“Can you give me your address?” “It’s Y/N,” you said quickly before giving your address. The town was small and the police station wasn’t far from your home. You knew an officer would be by in no time. “Okay Y/N,” the dispatcher said. “I have two officers enroute. In the meantime, can you find a weapon and a place to hide?”
Your eyes landed on the huge knife you’d used to cut your steak earlier and grabbed it quickly. “I have a knife,” you announced softly to the dispatcher who commended you. “Now you need to find a place to hide. Can you do that?” he asked. You tiptoed softly towards your bedroom, keeping your eyes on the bottom of the stairs before finally reaching the threshold and closing your bedroom door.
You turned the lock and made for your closet, squeezing in and sliding the door shut.
“I’m in the closet in my bedroom,” you whispered to the dispatcher. “Where is your bedroom located?” he asked. “Ground floor, back of the house behind the kitchen,” you whispered back. “Please tell them to hurry!”
You listened as the sounds of slow heavy footsteps pounded across the floor above you, heading for the stairs. “I think they’re coming downstairs!” you hissed. “Okay, Y/N,” the dispatcher said calmly. “The officers are almost there. I’m going to stay on the line but you need to be quiet for me, can you do that?”
You nodded and hummed in the affirmative as the heavy steps made their way down the stairs, one step at a time. Each slam had you jumping. You were shaking as you listened, keeping the knife ready to lash out. To your horror, the steps started to walk through the first floor and sounded like they were making a beeline for your room.
You tried to control your breathing as the steps stopped just outside your bedroom door.
You waited for there to be banging or for the door to fly open but neither happened. Instead, there was a rapid knocking at your front door followed by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling out “police!” you waited for the bedroom door to open and the closet door to slide aside as a light was shown in. “I found her,” the holder of the light said as you held up your hands.
The knife was taken from you and the officer helped you up. After they escorted you out of the house, one officer spoke while another two searched the house bottom to top, clearing each room and even going up into the attic. While the officers searched your home, you gave your statement to the officer who wrote down everything you said.
“And you’re sure you locked all the doors?” he asked, looking up from the notepad. You nodded again. “It’s just that when we arrived, both front doors were unlocked,” he explained. You stared at him blankly. “That’s not possible,” you replied. “I know I locked that door. Multiple times,” you explained.
“Someone was ringing and then kept knocking but each time I checked, there was no one there. I thought it was just kids getting into the Halloween spirit and being a nuisance. Until the pounding,” you continued. The officer narrowed his eyes. “Pounding?” he asked. You nodded as the two officers exited you home.
“Y-yeah,” you answered. “It started as light knocking but when I refused to open the door or come out onto the porch, it turned into pounding. I heard loud stomping up the steps but when I checked, I still saw nothing.”
The officer nodded as he jotted that down while one of the two officers came over.
“We found no sign of forced entry,” she started to explain. “We found a stack of boxes in the attic had fallen over. That was probably the loud crash you heard,” she continued. “Your back door was also unlocked.” Your jaw dropped. “I know I locked that!” you exclaimed. When I came downstairs to call you, the back door was open and when I walked over, I saw someone standing outside-”
“You saw someone outside?” the officer originally taking your statement asked. You nodded quickly as he started writing down more notes. “What did they look like?” You sighed heavily.
“I-I didn’t get a good look.”
Both officers exchanged looks as you rushed to explain further.
“They were standing just outside the light field,” you explained. “But they were tall. Maybe around 1.8 meters,” you explained. “Everything else was just black. There were no distinguishing features at all,” you added. The officers nodded. “Ma’am,” the woman started and you turned to her.
“We noticed an open bottle of wine in the fridge,” she stated and you knew where she was going. “I just opened it,” you explained. “I hadn’t even finished a glass yet,” you added. She nodded and the other officer quickly jotted that down as well.
“Well, other than the boxes in the attic,” she started. “There are no signs of anyone inside the home. Since the points of entry were unlocked, they must have gone out that way before we got here.”
You shook your head silently. “I heard them walk up to the bedroom but I never heard footsteps leave.”
The officers exchanged looks before the woman spoke again. “We’ll have a patrol car in the area for the night and if anything else happens, call us immediately,” she explained as she pulled a card out of a little pouch on her belt. “You can call me directly,” she added. “I’m on duty all night.”
The female officer walked you to your door where you thanked her and watched as both cars pulled away and headed down the street. A chilly breeze blew through the front porch followed by a distant flash of lightning and you quickly retreated inside, making sure your doors were locked before heading to the back door to do the same.
Once you were fully satisfied your doors were locked, you returned to the kitchen to clean up your dinner, putting the uneaten portions in a glass container and putting it in the fridge. You downed the rest of your wine and started to rinse your dishes, placing them in the dishwasher before turning off the lights and heading upstairs to make sure all the lights were off, windows closed and locked.
Before heading back down, you turned back to look at the attic door which was firmly shut. You headed down the steps carefully, turning off the light at the bottom landing before heading to your bedroom where you checked your windows.
Once you were sure everything was secure, you changed and got ready for bed.
Climbing under the covers, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep but exhaustion took over and you were out within minutes of crawling into bed.
You were in the midst of a really good dream when you were startled awake by a loud crash and sudden burst of wind. Sitting up, you looked around the dark room and saw one of your windows had sprang open. ‘How the hell did that open?’
You threw the covers off your legs and got up, moving around the bed ro quickly shut the window, clicking your tongue as you stepped in a wet puddle on the wood floor.
The crash you had heard was thunder and a full blown storm was raging outside. You groaned and turned back towards the room as a flash of lightning illuminated the space causing you to stop in your tracks. In the corner by the door stood a tall, dark shadow.
Your heart hammered in your chest, beating almost up into your throat as it closed, your ability to scream being ripped from you. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘This can’t be happening.’
You glanced at the door but knew deep in your heart that you’d never make it to the door, not with the shadow standing right beside it. Maybe you could climb out the window? Damn! You should have left it open! If only you’d seen the shadow before closing the window!
As you weighed your options, a deep, gravelly voice spoke.
“C̸̫͕̿̀̎̈́̈ͅȗ̶̠̳͉̽ṟ̴͖͛̈́̂̓͠ ̶̞͈̈́̌̄̋͂c̵̪̱̆͂̃u̵̡̪̜̠̣͗͒ř̵̤̠͕͈̉r̵̺̙͙͍̦͂̐i̸͈̜͕͙͐́̑̾t̸̨̩͖̣͖̀̑i̵̯͖̼̓͌͛̑s̴̭̐̍̚̚͠ ?”
You stared at the shadow in the corner. Did… did it just speak?
Uncertain if you heard correctly, you waited for it to speak again, although you had no idea what it said.
“M̶̳̞͖̓ͅỏ̷̮̲̯̚r̴̭̹̈͋̀̎t̶͓̩̪̟̿̉̒́̅a̴͓͐̽͊l̸̲̰̯͛͛͠e̴̝͝m̵͕̱̾͋ ̸̫̩̾͜t̸̪͚͔͋e̴͕̠̘̖̅̍͊ ̶̝̞̌i̵̯̺̯̋̉̄ͅn̶̺̳͚̟̟̊́͆̀t̵̫͗̌̎̕͝e̸̗̋̚ṝ̴̺͇̉͗͗͠r̸̺̭̫͈̖̅̉o̷̟͙̥̱͗͌-̴̮̇ ̷͓́g̷̰̪͋͛̕͝ā̸̙͊̍v̴̭̙̜͋̾̊̚i̶̦̟͌͋̈́͛ .”
Your lips parted as it addressed you, still in the same language.
“I-I don’t understand,” you whispered. The shadow didn’t move but instead, in the same gravelly voice it spoke again, this time in English. “I asked you why you keep running away from me.”
Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass. Whatever this was, it was sentient. “Wh-who are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The shadow figure chuckled. Actually fucking chuckled. The sound was distorted and unsettling.
“I am Tarrunach,” it answered. Your brain tried to wrap around the name. It was unlike anything you’d heard before. “T-Tarrunach?” you repeated. The figure said nothing and stayed perfectly still, another flash of lightning illuminating the room but still the shadow stayed black, a stark contrast with its surroundings.
“What do you want?” you asked softly, shifting your weight as your hand slowly reached behind you for the window latch. The shadow figure tilted its head before speaking in its rough voice.
“You summoned me.”
Your eyebrows shot up. ‘Summoned?’
You shook your head, halting your movements. “N-no I didn’t,” you answered. There was another flash of light and a clap of thunder. As soon as darkness returned to the room, the shadow figure shifted. Eyes appeared and it took all your willpower not to scream in terror at the sight of glowing red eyes.
“Is that the game you want to play?” it asked, voice scratchy and low. “You summoned me. Do you not remember the incantation?”
As you opened your mouth to say no, a memory played in your head, almost like a movie reel. The cat figure with the roll of paper inside. The strange words written in dark red ink.
‘Te invoco a profundus inferni,’ Your eyes widened as the realization hit you.
You knew it was latin but you didn’t know latin. Had you…
Had you accidentally summoned a demon?
You looked back up and noticed the shadow figure had moved and was now standing in front of the door. You leaned back against the window, fingers searching for the latch to open them.
“I-” you trailed off. “I didn’t know that was an incantation,” you admitted. “I thought it was gibberish.”
The figure laughed again. “Are you in the practice of reciting gibberish often?”
You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Not particularly. I don’t see gibberish very often.”
You were stalling but the figure was moving closer. The flat black shadowy figure had taken on a more corporeal look, instead of blurry appendages, you could make out a curve in the arms by its side. Your fingers brushed against the latch but didn’t manage to catch on.
Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, throwing your room in a cast of bright white allowing you to see the figure in full. Your eyes widened, a scream forming in your throat.
Before you stood a blackened figure. The skin looked almost charred. The red eyes looked back at you from a charred face, the lips pulled back into a menacing smile with rows of sharp teeth. The figure was slim and androgynous in appearance. You saw nothing that would distinguish it as either sexually male or female. It was like one of the Ken dolls you’d had as a child.
Before the scream building in your throat could escape, your fingers managed to grab hold of the window latch and you pulled, opening the window. Instantly the wind blew in, the sound of rain intensifying and blowing into the open space. You tried to turn and climb out the window but the figure moved at an impossible speed.
The window was shut, all wind gone as the figure slammed you against the wall beside the window, hand closed around your throat. “This isn’t a game,” it growled in your face, breath hot against your skin. “You summoned me, whether intentional or not,” it hissed. “And I’ve come to collect.”
‘Collect?’
Fear filled your senses, spreading throughout your body and to the tips of your fingers and toes.
“C-collect?” you gasped, clawing at the hand around your neck. “Yes,” the figure snapped. Without warning, it tossed you onto the bed easily and was on top of you as you bounced on the mattress.
“C-collect what?” you coughed. “My soul?”
The demon tilted its head again only this time much faster, so fast you barely registered it except for the cracking sound that accompanied it. “I don’t want your soul,” it growled. You winced as it leaned in, sniffing your cheek before you felt its warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up the side of your face. You tried to push it away but the demon was much stronger.
“You can’t fight me off,” he laughed cruelly.
You felt your throat close up, tears burning at the corners of your eyes as the monster pinned you against the bed. “Please,” you whimpered. “What do you want from me?”
The demon chuckled again, the sound just as jarring. “I want your energy,” it answered.
You turned your face to look up at it in the dark, it’s red eyes boring into yours. “Energ-gy?”
“Your sexual energy,” it added. Your stomach churned at the thought. ‘No way. Absolutely not.’
You shook your head in agreement with your thoughts. “No,” you said defiantly.
The demon laughed, caging you in with its arms against the mattress. “I figured you’d say that,” it said, taking your face in its clawed hand. You stared up, raw fear pumping in your veins as your eyes met. You watched in both shock and horror as the charred skin of the demon melted away to reveal an all too familiar face.
You managed to push the demon off you and scramble off the bed towards the window as the demon stood up. You cowered away, your back up against the wall. “J-Joshua?”
The figure standing in your bedroom smiled at you, flashing a pair of perfect teeth. “Wh-what the hell?”
The demon started to pace back and forth, keeping its eyes trained on you. “What do you think?” it asked. “Looks just like him, right?” You stared in awe. “Or would you believe me if I told you I am Joshua?”
You shook your head quickly. “That’s not possible,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. the demon laughed and instead of the cruel, jarring sound, it was Joshua’s laugh. The one you’d heard countless times in Pandora’s Box as you told him a joke. The smile was the same one he gave you when he caught you staring at him from across the shop.
The same knowing smirk.
You shook your head again. “You’re not Joshua,” you answered. “You’re just messing with me!”
The demon tilted its head again. “That’s where you’re wrong,” it said in a low, menacing tone.
“Let me show you something,” it said, raising one hand and with a snap of its fingers, the lamps in your room came on. You looked around quickly before your eyes landed back on the demon.
“Is that it?” you asked. “I thought you were going to like, snap us to the shop or something,” you added.
The demon’s smile fell and its eyes narrowed.
“You want to go to the shop?” it asked. You nodded. “That’s where he lives,” you said. “The real Joshua!”
The demon sighed and rolled its eyes before standing up straight. “Get dressed,” it said, moving towards the door. You hesitated as it opened the bedroom door. Sensing you weren’t going to move, the demon stopped. “Get dressed,” it ordered again. “I’ll prove it to you.”
You pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading out of your bedroom. It was surreal to see the demon masquerading as Joshua in your living room. You slowed to a stop as it walked around, looking around your house. “Nice place,” it said with a smirk. “How come you’ve never invited me here before?” he asked with a mocking tone. You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.
Taking that as a cue you weren’t going to talk, the demon led the way to the door. “Shoes,” it said as it unlocked the deadbolt and looked at you. “We’re going to the shop.”
The walk down the deserted streets at night was eerie enough but the fact that a demon masquerading as your coworker was walking beside you as if nothing was wrong made it even more uncanny. The walk to the shop took no time at all and soon, you were walking up to the front door.
The demon produced a set identical to Joshua’s keys and unlocked the door. You led the way to the back where the door leading up to the steps was already open. You hurried up the steps to the top landing but before you could knock, the door opened and you fell into Joshua’s arms.
“Close the door!” you gasped, scrambling to shut the door behind you and lock it.
You looked up into the concerned brown eyes of your coworker. “Y/N,what’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s storming.” You glanced down to find your clothes were indeed wet but on your walk, you didn’t remember it raining. Though you did remember it raining when you were back in your bedroom.
“Here,” Joshua said, letting go of you and heading to the wardrobe that stood between the bathroom and the nightstand. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
You followed him, glancing around quickly. Nothing seemed out of place in the apartment. Joshua pulled out some clothes, holding up the large tee shirt. “This should fit,” he said softly. “It’s not my size.” He pulled out a pair or shorts as well, holding them up to inspect.
Once he’d found something that might fit, he handed them to you and directed you to the bathroom where you changed quickly. Out in the other room, Joshua was heating up a pot of water. He looked up as you approached. “Let me throw these in the dryer,” he offered, taking your clothes from you.
Once he put them in the dryer and poured you a hot cup of tea, you sat at the kitchen island, trying to come up with an explanation as to why you were there. What reason could you possibly have for coming to his place in the middle of the night.
‘I accidentally summoned a demon that wants to collect my sexual energy and it looks just like you.’
He’d call the cops faster than you could finish getting the words out.
Frustrated, you lowered your head and fought the urge to cry, your shoulders shaking. Joshua rounded the island and sat next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” You turned to face him, startling him.
“No one is safe,” you said softly. Joshua’s eyes searched your face. “What?” he said quietly.
“There’s…” your voice quivered as you hesitated. “There’s a demon.”
As soon as the words left your lips, the serious look on Joshua’s face morphed into a smile. “Oh Y/N, please,” he scoffed. “You know, you really are something,” he said, getting to his feet. You watched as he walked back around to his empty cup and moved to put it in the sink.
You got up and ran over to him. “Please, Joshua,” you pleaded. “I’m not messing around!”
When he didn’t respond, you tried to grab his hand. The moment your skin touched his you jerked back with a yelp. Almost like you’d been burned. ‘What the…’
You looked up from his hand to his profile. He slowly turned his head, eyes boring into yours. The brown eyes you’d looked into before were replaced with yellow irises, the sclera no longer white but red. The same eyes you’d seen in your bedroom. Your heart sank as Joshua slowly advanced on you.
“No,” you whimpered, a soft sob escaping you. You tried to run but the demon was quick, grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the counter, trapping you between its body and the kitchen island. “Stop!” you screamed, pushing against its hard chest. “Let me go!”
“I told you,” it said in the voice of Joshua. “I told you I am Joshua.”
You shook your head. “It’s not possible,” you sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks.
The demon took your face in both its hands gently. “I wasn’t lying. I am Joshua. Joshua is me.”
You glanced up to meet the fiery gaze once more. Behind the yellow and red eyes was a sincerity you hadn’t expected to see. The demon wasn’t trying to trick you. “H-how?” you hiccuped.
“How what?” he asked. “Did you not find it odd that I seemingly haunted every dream and waking thought of yours?” he asked. “Or how Mrs. Briggs didn’t recognize me?” You looked up at him. “Are you even related to Bill?” you asked softly. Joshua chuckled and shook his head. “Bill doesn’t have any siblings,” he answered.
“Why are you here?” you asked suddenly. “In this town. Why are you here?”
Joshua tilted his head. “Do you remember the night Bill passed away?” he asked, nodding when you shook your head. “It was a couple days before Halloween,” Joshua started to explain. “A couple of teenagers were out at the old covered bridge messing around with a ouija board.”
You listened as he told the story of the teens and how they inadvertently summoned him, bringing him to the town. That night, after they summoned the demon, they ran, leaving behind the Ouija board. Bill was driving home from the shop and had to cross that old wooden bridge.
As he started to cross, Joshua explained how he appeared, causing Bill to swerve and plow through the side of the bridge and down into the ditch below. It wasn’t full but because there had been a lot of rain the past few nights, the ditch had been flooded more than usual and because Bill’s car landed upside down, he drowned.
As Joshua finished his tale, you covered your mouth in shock.
“And that little figure you took home,” he continued. “Why would I give you a random gift like that?” he asked. “I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to find the incantation. I wanted you to say it, knowing you were curious and had a proclivity for reading out random words you see,” he added.
Everything he was saying so far added up. Your dreams about him, your fantasies, your attraction, everything was caused by him. “Why did you need an incantation?” you asked suddenly, looking up to meet his gaze. “I wanted you before that.”
Joshua shook his head. “I’m a demon,” he explained. “I have rules and rituals to abide by.”
The realization dawned on you.
“That’s why you stopped the other night,” you said softly as it all fell into place. “Because you can’t just have sex with whoever you want?” Joshua nodded. “There has to be a binding incantation,” he explained. “Which is what you read off tonight.”
You swallowed thickly. “Which means…”
You felt one of his hands moved to your hip. “Which means, we have to have sex,” you continued.
Joshua nodded, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek. “Exactly,” he said in a low, husky voice. “But if we have sex,” you said suddenly, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back. “Doesn’t that mean you have to leave?”
Joshua tilted his head questioningly. “Why would I leave?” he asked softly.
“When I have a shop to run.”
Without letting you say another word, Joshua took your lips in a searing kiss, his free hand moving up your back and pulling you into him. “I said that incantation binds me to you,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your skin. “I never said anything about having to leave. I’m bound to you now.”
Your knees almost buckled as you felt his teeth graze against the skin of your neck. “I’m yours,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And after tonight,” he continued, trailing kissing back up until his lips were against your ear. “You’ll be mine.”
You pulled him in for a heated kiss, leaning against the counter as one of your legs moved to wrap around his waist. Joshua leaned into the kiss, parting your lips and sliding his hot tongue into your mouth, muffling your moans.
You whined as he pulled away, slowly kissing down your neck to your collar before taking the hem of the shirt you were currently wearing and tugging it up, pulling the shirt off over your head. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking in your topless form.
His hands were back on you in a second, lips trailing kisses down your collar and between your breasts. As he lowered himself to his knees, he made quick work of the shorts you were wearing, pulling them along with your panties down your legs before taking one of your thighs and lifting it over his shoulder.
You watched as he planted light kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your aching heat. One of your hands braced yourself against the counter, the other moving down to tangle in his hair as he placed a kiss just above your clit before shifting between your thighs, pushing them further apart.
Your head fell back as you slipped to rest your forearm against the counter again as you felt Joshua’s tongue glide through your folds, brushing your clit lightly. Light teasing licks turned into heavy laps until he pulled back, his chin already covered in your essence. “Bed,” was the only word he uttered.
You were there faster than you could process, your head spinning with arousal as you leaned back against the sheets. Joshua had stripped himself of his shirt in the short distance from the kitchen to the bed and was lowering himself to kneel as you parted your thighs.
He fell onto the mattress, arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your pussy closer to his face.
You moaned, head falling into the pillows as you felt his tongue back on your clit. He teased and toyed with the bud, not really falling into a rhythm. Instead he was merely taking his time and learning your body. Twice you felt the tip of his tongue dip down to your hole, pushing into it as his nose bumped against your clit. You felt the vibration of his groans against your sex, your walls tightening around the end of his tongue.
Just when you thought he was going to pull away, it was as if his tongue grew, entering you fully and filling your cunt. “Oh shit,” you cursed, fingers tightening in his hair as your free hand gripped the sheets beneath you tightly.
He only pushed his tongue into you a few times before pulling back. You raised your head wearily to see him licking his lips. “Already so fucked out?” he asked with a chuckle. He didn’t give you the opportunity to respond as he pushed two fingers into your cunt, watching your face as your lips parted in a silent moan.
Your eyes rolled back as he started to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you.
“That’s it,” he cooed as he curled his fingers, brushing against the soft spongy spot that had your toes curling. “You like that?” he asked, mildly amused by the response you were giving him despite him doing the bare minimum. “Yes!” you gasped as he continued to finger you. “F-fuck!” you swore. “Don’t stop!”
Joshua continued to watch your face as you writhed in pleasure under him. “Like that?” he asked, angling his hand so his fingers reached even further. “Yes! J-just like that!” Joshua leaned down, lips moving against yours, a mix of tongues, spit, and moans but you weren’t sure whose moans they were.
Joshua pulled away, keeping his eyes on your face as he sped up the pace. “Just like that?”
You nodded quickly, your body starting to shake as your orgasm approached but before it could crash over you, Joshua withdrew his hand. You whined at the loss of contact, making Joshua chuckle. “You’re falling asleep,” he noted. You pouted at him. “Don’t care,” you murmured.
Joshua tilted his head curiously. “Are you giving me permission to fuck you while you’re sleeping?” he asked. You nodded. It felt too good and you were so close you’d do just about anything to cum. “Yes,” you answered. “Feels s’good.”
Joshua chuckled against your skin, leaving feathery kisses against your cheek. “As you wish,” he said softly, gently rolling you onto your stomach. You felt his hands push your thighs apart and shuddered as you felt something hot and wet against your hole.
You assumed it was his tongue until it pushed into your cunt and you groaned into the pillows. It was most certainly not his tongue. “Wh-what’s that?” you murmured. You felt one of Joshua’s hands caress your cheek. “Shh, angel,” he said softly and you almost laughed at the irony of it.
A demon calling you angel.
You tried to lift your head to look back but it was too dark. “It’s okay,” you heard him purr in your ear. “Just go to sleep,” he added.
Your cheek fell back against the sheets as sleep started to take over your form. You felt whatever was inside you probing around and a sudden thought hit you. “Is that a tentacle?” you murmured, your voice partially muffled. Joshua chuckled, again in your ear as he leaned over you. “Yes,” he answered.
“It is.”
That snapped you awake. “Hng,” you grunted as the tentacle started to thrust in and out of you. “W-wait a second,” you whined. “I thought you…” you trailed off as Joshua halted his movement. “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered. “I wanted your…” your words failed you again.
“You have to use complete sentences,” Joshua cooed in your ear. “I wanted your cock,” you finally whined. Joshua chuckled, the tentacle in you starting to slowly thrust. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he replied. “You’ll get that, too.”
Your cheeks burned as the tentacle continued to pump into your pussy, gently bumping your cervix with each thrust. You felt another warm wet appendage against your ass and tried to reach behind you but Joshua managed to catch both hands and pin them to the bed.
“Shhh,” he murmured. “Just relax for me. Can you do that, angel?”
You moaned into the sheets as the second tentacle pushed into your ass, carefully stretching you open. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly as the tentacle stopped, settling in your ass as the one in your pussy continued to move. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.
“That’s my good girl,” Joshua whispered into your ear as the tentacle in your ass slowly started to move, setting an asynchronous pace to the first tentacle and soon both were thrusting into you. It wasn’t enough to build up an orgasm but it was enough to drive you insane.
You wanted more. You needed more.
You moaned into the pillows as the tentacles increased speed. “That’s it baby,” Joshua cooed. “You’re doing so well for me.” You were aware that the sheets were no doubt covered in your arousal and that a mess was being created between your thighs.
Joshua didn’t seem to mind. Without another word, the tentacles withdrew leaving you feeling empty. You let out a tiny yelp as Joshua wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling your ass up before taking one of the pillows and tucking it under your raised hips.
You moaned as he ran his hands over your ass, crying out when you felt him land a blow against the skin. He repeated this again, rubbing his hand over the spot each time. “Of course,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. “Of course you’d like that, you little slut.”
You moaned at the degrading name, whimpering when you felt him push two fingers into your heat again. “I supposed you’re ready,” he added. Your body burned in anticipation as you felt the bed move. You had neither the energy or will to look and see what was happening but it didn’t matter.
As quickly as Joshua disappeared, he was back, kneeling behind you and spreading your cheeks with his hands. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he growled. “And it’s all mine.”
You moaned in response as he spit onto your waiting hole. The next thing you felt was the tip of his cock brushing against you. “I’m going to ruin this little pussy,” he growled in your ear. “Make it so mine is the only cock you can take.”
You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your shoulder before he straightened back up. You felt the head of his cock as it pushed slowly into you and suddenly, you knew why he prepped you with the tentacles beforehand.
Inch by inch, Joshua slid into you. Your body shook as your cunt stretched to accommodate his girth. As he bottomed out, you shuddered, walls clenching and unclenching around him. “So warm,” he breathed. “M’gonna wreck you,” he added, taking your hips in both hands before slowly drawing his cock out until just the tip was still inside you.
Without warning, he snapped his hips forward, making you scream into the pillows as he pushed all of his cock into you at once. The first few thrusts were the hardest but as he fell into a steady rhythm, the stinging pain was replaced with a dull ache. You could already feel your juices starting to roll down your thighs, no doubt mixed with sweat as Joshua pounded into you from behind.
You could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix with each stroke. You cried out as he slammed into you.
He hovered over you, one hand on the mattress next to you and the other holding your hip. “You take cock so well, baby,” he growled. “It’s like you were made for this.”
You moaned loudly, tears and spit staining the pillow your face was currently buried in. Joshua grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside. “I want to hear you,” he rasped, hips hitting your ass as he thrust into you. “Wanna hear you scream for me and I split you open.”
Your cries filled the room with each slam of his hips, the sound of skin hitting skin the only other sound to be heard. Your fingers dug into the sheets, trying to ground yourself from the onslaught of his hips. “Mine,” you heard him growl. It was almost animalistic. As if to seal his claim, you cried out as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. The stinging pain of your shoulder combined with the feeling of his cock repeatedly dragging against your walls raw sent you over the edge and you came with a whimper, falling limp as he continued to fuck you.
More tears spilled as Joshua moved, his hips never faltering. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” he grunted. “Fuck you like you deserve. Fuck you until you’re full of nothing but my cum. Turn you into my own cum dumpster like the good little slut are.”
The sound of his almost angelic voice saying all those dirty things had your mind reeling as your second orgasm built up quickly, a low, deep moan escaping you as you came for a second time. “Such a good little girl,” he chuckled. His chest pressed against your back as he buried his cock fully inside you, pinning you to the mattress.
“You want that? You want me to fill you up? You want me to breed you?”
You moaned, hips pushing back against him, urging him to move again.
When he did it was fast and unforgiving. His thrusts were erratic. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice hitting a low you didn’t think possible. “Stay down,” he added, pinning you to the mattress as he pushed himself up with one hand. “Yeah,” he continued when you obeyed him. “Just like that.”
You felt his cock twitch and throb in your pussy, your walls fluttering around him as another orgasm washed over you. You’d lost count at this point how many you had but Joshua was nearing his own and you were left at his mercy as he chased his high, hips slamming into you as he growled and cursed in a language you didn’t understand.
As he finally started to come undone, he thrust once, twice, thrice more before burying his cock deep in your walls as he came, teeth sinking into your skin once more, marking you as thick ropes of his hot cum painted your walls and filled your cunt until it started to spill out.
You panted, breathing heavily against the sheets, ignoring the drool on your chin. Joshua shuddered as the last of his cum spilled into you. He let out one final groan before stilling completely. Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard him whisper into your ear but what he said you weren’t sure.
Everything faded to black.
You woke with a start and opened your eyes, sunlight filtering into your room and blinding you.
You groaned as you tried to roll over but your limbs were heavy and sore. It took more strength than usual to roll over. As you did, you caught sight of the alarm clock next to your bed but something was wrong.
It was on the opposite side. You lifted your head and stared at the alarm clock. The red numbers told you that it was just after nine in the morning. That was when you noticed the wall. It wasn’t your wall. You started to push yourself up, peering down at the sheets. They weren’t your sheets.
Just where the hell were you?
You sat up and looked around. This wasn’t your place.
Your gaze continued over the familiar surroundings but it wasn’t until it landed on a figure in the kitchen that everything clicked.
He smiled as he walked over carrying two plates and a mug of coffee.
You watched as he sat on the edge of bed, setting the coffee on the side table next to you before setting one of the plates in your lap. “Morning,” he said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You seemed pretty tired last night,” he added. “So I let you sleep in.”
You looked around as you tried to process what waking up at his place meant. Did you two…?
Memories from the night before flashed before your eyes.
The demon in your room, showing up at Joshua’s place, the sex. You raised a hand up to your mouth as you realized what actually happened last night. You looked over at Joshua as he ate his own plate of pancakes. “Did we…?” you whispered looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes, which were brown, momentarily flashed red, and you knew instantly.
“We did indeed, doll,” he answered, returning his gaze to his plate.
“And you’re…?” Joshua nodded, looking up. “Yep. I’m a demon,” he answered nonchalantly.
“But I’m your demon,” he added. Your cheeks burned as he smirked at you.
“So I was thinking,” he continued to speak.
“Maybe we could move in together.”
You stared at him as he spoke. “I mean, since we’re bound to each other for eternity now, it just makes sense, you know?”
Your heart hammered in your chest, blood pounding in your ears. ‘Move in together?’
“And if we live together, we can have sex like every night.”
‘For eternity?’
“It would be perfect. It’s stupid for us to be apart anyway.”
You looked down at your plate as your pulse sped up.
‘What the hell have I done?’
ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.
#svthub#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#joshua hong#joshua hong scenarios#joshua hong imagines#joshua hong fanfic#joshua hong smut#joshua hong x reader
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kiss with a fist | chapter two.
masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist
pairing: theodore nott x reader.
song inspiration: baby said by måneskin.
author's note: i'd apologize for the filth, but i'm not actually sorry and at this point you should expect it from me. enjoy theo's cheeky mouth. he singlehandedly started the sassy man revolution.
A strange sense of deja vu washed over you as soon as you walked into the potions lab. Buried deep in the dungeons, the room had always made you feel a bit claustrophobic. You were used to the airiness of Ravenclaw Tower with its twisting spires, starry glass domed ceiling, and four story bookshelves. You couldn’t even see the sky from this far below.
But you supposed that the Slytherins preferred their dark and dreary viper’s nest.
Speaking of serpents, Theo slinked into the classroom with his eyes half-closed, nearly running into the wall. His hair was a tousled mess like he’d just now rolled out of bed. The faded emerald hoodie and gray sweatpants he had haphazardly thrown on looked considerably more casual than your cable knit sweater and plaid skirt.
“You’re late,” you scolded sharply. “How are you late? You literally live here.”
“S’too bloody early.”
Theo yawned lazily as he settled into the seat beside you. He cocked his head, dragging his gaze up and down your body before flicking a stray lock that had fallen out of your braid crown. You always kept your hair up since prefect duties had you running around the castle for the majority of your day. This morning, it was even more prudent to tie it back since you would be working with volatile potions and an even more volatile boy.
“Are you always so prim and perfect?”
“Are you always so sloppy and underwhelming?”
Theo snickered, unfazed by the comment. “Someone’s grumpy this morning.”
“You would be too if you woke up at the ass crack of dawn to nick a muffin from the kitchens.”
The sad looking pastry sat between you, partially crushed from being hastily stuffed into your book bag after barely evading the house elves.
All that hard work disappeared before your eyes as Theo devoured the muffin in seconds. The bloody git had the audacity to swipe your thermos off the table and tipped its contents directly into his mouth, crumbs and all.
His face immediately contorted into disgust. “What in the bloody hell is this?”
“Pumpkin spice latte.”
“Pumpkin what?”
“It’s a muggle thing.”
“It’s an abomination, is what it is.”
You snatched the thermos back. “No one told you to drink it. Do you even know how long it took for me to collect enough instant coffee packets to last the whole term? And here you are wasting it.”
Theo looked properly scandalized. “Why on Godric’s green earth would anyone drink coffee from a packet? You don’t have one of those—what do you call them—expression machines?”
“Espresso,” you corrected. “No, Theodore, I do not have an espresso machine because that would require electricity, which doesn’t really fit this castle’s medieval aesthetic.” You paused. “How do you even know about those?”
“I’m half Italian. How would I not know about espresso?”
“You called it expression.”
“Yeah, well, my nonna doesn’t have all of her teeth so sorry for pronouncing things incorrectly. If you don’t like it, take it up with that crazy old strega.”
You fought the urge to laugh. The little anecdote would not distract you from the mission. “Right, if you’re quite done insulting my taste in coffee, we should get to brewing.”
“You don’t have taste in coffee. That’s the problem.” You glared at him, causing Theo to sigh deeply. “That was for my countrymen. Go on, then. Show me what you’ve got so far.”
Theo watched silently as you lit your cauldron with a flick of your wand. Between you floated your advanced potions textbook, turning its own pages as you carefully followed the recipe. It didn’t matter that the instructions were so ingrained in your mind that Luna said that she’d heard you muttering it in your sleep. You were still going to follow the bloody book like it was your first brew.
The ingredients were simple. A sprig of wormwood. Two crushed newt spleens. Three blood slugs diagonally sliced with surgical precision. Four ashwinder eggs grinded into a fine powder. Most importantly, five crushed petals from the Angel’s Trumpet flower, which the draught derived its name from. Bring to a gentle boil. Wait precisely twenty minutes. Stir counterclockwise. Then clockwise again.
“It’s clockwise and then counterclockwise,” Theo declared, speaking for the first time in nearly half an hour.
“The book says the opposite.”
“I know what the book says.”
You brandished the ash stirrer in your right hand like a wand. “This wouldn’t be some clever ploy to take out your academic rival, would it?”
Theo rolled his eyes. “First of all, I prefer nemesis. Second of all, you’re the one more inclined to violence out of the two of us. If anyone should fear for their life in this room, it would be me.”
“Fair point. But how are you so sure the instructions are wrong?”
“Because this has never failed me.”
With that, Theo pulled out a small book from his pocket. It expanded as he touched it, nearly taking up half the table. The book was old, ancient even, with a worn leather cover that you highly suspected to be made of dragonhide. The title glowed with an eerie silver light.
Il grimorio della famiglia Marchesi.
The grimoire of the Marchesi family.
“Marchesi?” you asked in disbelief. “As in, the Marchesis of Triora?”
The Marchesis were an ancient wizarding family that traced their ancestry back to the small Italian village of Triora. The city of witches, they called it. Their most notable ancestor was Alessandra Marchesi. The young strega was much changed by the witch trials that had swept over her sleepy town during her childhood, but instead of shunning muggle influence, Alessandra embraced their queer traditions and used it to her advantage.
She tracked the inventions of her non-wizard counterparts diligently and reverse engineered it for magical purposes. The pages of her grimoire were said to be filled with invaluable knowledge. Alessandra invented potions, charms, and even hexes that helped shape the wizarding world as you knew it today. Her ideas birthed a sort of magical renaissance in the strenghe community.
Under her leadership, the Marchesi family produced some of the most powerful witches and wizards not only in Italy, but Europe as a whole. Some of them had even attended Hogwarts and were unsurprisingly sorted in your house.
Alessandra Marchesi was a visionary like no other and a legend amongst the Ravenclaws. Any one of your housemates would have killed to lay eyes on her grimoire.
And here it was, propped casually in front of you.
In the hands of Theodore Nott, of all people.
You stared at the worn yellow pages, eyeing the elegant script with such intense scrutiny that you almost went cross eyed. The writing was in Italian, but that didn’t stop you from devouring every word.
“I can’t believe that I’m reading the Marchesi grimoire,” you muttered to yourself. “Written by the Alessandra Marchesi herself.”
“I’m flattered that you’re so interested in my family.”
“The fact that you’re even related baffles the mind.”
Theo rolled his eyes and pointed at the bottom right hand corner of the page. Senso orario. Antiorario.
You knew enough Italian to realize that Theo was right. “Is this how you’ve been first in potions all this time?”
He gasped dramatically. “Your lack of belief in my skills is highly offensive, but not entirely unexpected, diavolina. The grimoire is helpful, but my nonna only recently bestowed this little family heirloom to me this past holiday. I’m afraid that I’ve been beating you with my own talents for years.”
You didn’t know if that disturbed or comforted you.
“Why share it with me?” you asked.
If the roles were reversed, you certainly wouldn’t. The grimoire gave Theo an edge that he could’ve easily kept to himself. As a Ravenclaw, your first instinct was to guard and covet knowledge in order to climb the academic hierarchy. There was very little you wouldn’t do to secure first place. Perhaps you were more similar to the Slytherins in that way.
“I thought the nerd in you might appreciate it,” Theo teased. “Plus, I didn’t want you to think that I was cheating. When I beat you once and for all, I want you to know that I did so out of my own superior abilities.”
“You’re incredibly smug, do you know that?”
“I’m confident in my skills,” Theo said nonchalantly, plastering on that ever snarky smirk. “In and out of the potions lab, principessa.”
He winked, which made you roll your eyes. “Now let the expert show you how it’s done.”
You tensed slightly as Theo approached from behind. He chuckled as his chest brushed against your back, effectively caging you in. “Relax, diavolina. I have no plans to ravish you in this lab again. At least not until the potion is properly brewed.”
A shiver skittered down your spine as you actively fought the urge to arch against him. Stupid hormones. Thanks to your ill advised romps, your body reacted to Theo’s touch against your will. You gripped the stirrer so tightly that it was one squeeze away from breaking.
“Gently,” Theo murmured as his right hand enveloped yours. He rested his left hand against your hip, rubbing soothing circles underneath your cable knit sweater. The action had the opposite effect. If anything, a different sort of tension brewed between you.
“Senso orario,” he said, reciting the instructions from the grimoire. Theo slipped his fingers between yours and stirred clockwise. Suddenly, the room felt much hotter than it had a second ago.
You were keenly aware of his fingers lightly gripping your waist and for a horrible, nauseating moment, you imagined what it would be like to have him strip off your skirt and rip the wool tights off your legs so you could feel those rough, calloused hands against your bare thighs.
“Antiorario,” Theo said after ten stirs. You startled, sweat dripping off your back as he reversed your movements. The mixture bubbled gently the more you stirred.
“Shall I put it in?” His breath fanned over your neck, making you feel even more overheated than you already were.
“What?”
Theo’s lips twitched. “The petals. Shall I put them in or would you like to do the honors?”
“I’ve got it,” you said rather quickly.
In your haste, you swiped the crushed petals off of the cutting board and dropped them into the draught. In the back of your mind, the instructions that you had so diligently memorized flashed like some horrible omen. Drop the petals one by one. You realized your mistake just as Theo pulled you towards him, shielding you from the cauldron. The entire thing roiled violently before spewing magenta down the back of Theo’s hoodie.
You watched in horror as pepto bismol pink dripped from his curls. “I mean, I know you’d do anything to be first in class, but blowing me to bits is a bit severe, don’t you think?”
“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, turning him over. “Are you alright?”
The back of his hoodie looked like Theo had been involved in a rather violent skirmish with a cotton candy machine, but he appeared unharmed otherwise.
He smirked. “It’s touching that you care so much about my well-being. However disconcerting it may be.”
“You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me, you idiot. That could’ve been so much worse. I will not have your death on my conscience, Theodore.”
“Funny,” he said as he pulled his hoodie off. It raised the shirt underneath as well, giving you an unfortunate glimpse of his toned abs. “I wasn’t aware you even had a conscience.”
“Fuck,” you cursed, completely ignoring his quip. “The grimoire.”
For an excruciating moment, your heart felt like it had dropped to your stomach. If anything happened to the grimoire, you never would have forgiven yourself. Fortunately, there seemed to be a protection charm over the entire thing, because it appeared completely unblemished despite the geyser that had spewed out of the cauldron.
“Oh thank Godric.”
“That old thing’s got about a million protective charms on it that are older than either one of us,” Theo reassured you. “The grimoire is impervious to your violence. I, however, am not.”
“Sit,” you commanded, pointing to a stool. “I’ll clean you up.”
“I’m perfectly capable of casting scourgify.”
You rolled your eyes. “Not everything has to be done with magic. Besides, I thought you’d jump at the chance to have me at your beck and call.”
“Fair point,” Theo said, settling into his seat. “I wouldn’t mind being fussed over.”
It took a few minutes for you to tidy up the mess on the table. Using magic would’ve been easier, but cleaning had always helped to clear your mind. Sometimes you spent an entire day scouring your dorm from top to bottom. Your housemates thought it was strange since a simple spell would’ve done the trick, but it was more a mental exercise than anything else.
When you cleaned, it felt like your mind was being refreshed. Clearing out old thoughts, polishing new ideas, vacuuming unpleasant memories. It was vital to your sanity. You and Luna had bonded over it during first year. She was the only one who was willing to roll her sleeves up and get her hands dirty. It reminded you of doing spring cleaning with your mum and dad, whom you missed dearly. You had never really been away from them for this long until you came to Hogwarts.
You suspected that Luna knew that the obsessive cleaning had more to do with your homesickness than anything else, but you always appreciated the fact that she never pushed you to talk unless you offered.
Despite what others might say, Luna was a stellar example of what a Ravenclaw should be. Clever, intuitive, and witty without all the pretentiousness that most of your housemates seemed to proudly parade around with.
You thought fondly of your friend, who just this morning shot you a knowing look as you slinked off to the dungeons before anyone else awoke.
Give my regards to Theodore, she said with a faint smile.
The suspect in question regarded you with mild curiosity as you approached with a washcloth and basin. Even seated on the stool, Theo towered over you. The back of his neck was splattered with bubblegum pink and it dotted the sharp line of his jaw and even the cut of his cheekbones.
Theo watched in silence as you wiped away the remnants of the failed draught. He wore a neutral expression, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes flickered over you like he was analyzing your every move.
“If you wanted an excuse to touch me, you could’ve just said so,” he teased with a slight smirk. “No need for the assassination attempt, Y/N.”
“Trust me, Theodore. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”
“Such a charming little bird,” he taunted. “Does that line work on the boys back home?”
You raised a brow. That was the second time he’d brought the subject up. “Why do you ask? Jealous that I might be directing my feminine wiles on anyone other than you?”
Theo scoffed. “No one else would be able to deal with your sparkling personality, diavolina.” Something flickered in those stormy eyes as you gently dragged the washcloth over his cheek. “I’m just curious as to what you’ve been up to this holiday. Haven’t you wondered what I was doing?”
“Contrary to your egotistical belief, I don’t spend every waking moment thinking of you. Besides, I figured you’d be doing something stereotypically rich like sailing around the Amalfi Coast and hunting dolphins for sport.”
“As opposed to spending the entire break memorizing Slughorn’s personal recommendations so you can recite obscure potion knowledge in class?”
You flushed, not bothering to deny the fact. Theo smirked. “I thought Uni was supposed to be more exciting than that. Shouldn’t you be getting smashed at pubs and taking strangers home?”
“Not all of us can afford the distraction,” you said with an eye roll. “Or venereal diseases. Why the sudden interest, anyways? Don’t tell me that you’re planning on applying to Oxford. I don’t think I could handle another three years of you, Nott.”
He wrinkled his nose. “If I were to attend university, it sure as hell won’t be at Oxford.”
“Gods, you sound like one of those posh snobs from Cambridge.”
“Cambridge is a world-renowned university with an excellent magical division.”
Your eyes widened as you came to the realization. “Merlin’s beard, you are one of those Cambridge snobs, aren’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Theo crossed his arms. “I’m not a posh snob.”
“Theodore, you live in a bloody manor. I hate to break it to you, but you definitely wouldn’t be considered blue collar.”
“I don’t live there anymore. Not since…” Not since my father was sentenced to Azkaban for being one of the Dark Lord’s top Death Eaters.
“Right,” you said rather quickly. “Sorry—I—didn’t mean to—”
Theo patted your hand and grinned. “Oh don’t look so distressed, Y/N. I assure you I’m not living in squalor. Despite my father’s imprisonment, the ministry was kind enough to allow me to keep a flat in London.” You noted the hint of bitterness in his voice. “Though if you ask my nonna, she’d tell you that an Azkaban sentence would be preferable to the dreary English weather.”
That made you smile a bit. “I suppose the rain and muck is rather offensive to someone who’s used to the Italian sunshine.”
“You have no idea,” Theo muttered. “You’d think I dragged her to the States instead of Primrose Hill.”
“Primrose Hill?” You asked, scrunching your brows. “I don’t remember there being a wizarding neighborhood there.”
“There’s not,” Theo confirmed. “And I quite prefer it that way.”
There was an edge to his voice that told you not to press further.
“So, I gather that you and your nonna are close?”
“More like I’m the only grandchild that hasn’t disappointed her so far. Hence the grimoire.”
“Is Cambridge her idea or yours? I heard that they have an excellent Potions program. Second to Oxford, of course.”
The corner of Theo’s mouth quirked. “My mother’s, actually.”
You knew that his mother had passed when he was young. Not much was known about the circumstances of her death, but it was assumed that Theo had witnessed it since he was one of the few students that were able to see the thestrals.
“After she graduated from Hogwarts, mum went on to study potions at Cambridge. She used to take me to campus during her alumni events. One time I begged her to buy me a jumper from the stores and I wore that damned thing down to its last thread.”
There was a faraway expression on his face as he glanced out of the dungeon windows. The sunlight was barely starting to spear through the Black Lake, spreading a mosaic of colors across the potions lab. Theo looked contemplative. Pensive, almost.
On the surface, his playful nature was very much on display, but somewhere deep within, you could see a hint of sadness bleeding through. It felt like you were intruding on a private moment. Witnessing something that you weren’t supposed to see.
It was highly unnerving to say the least, so you deflected. “You know, Oxford and Cambridge have a deep seethed rivalry. It would be sort of poetic for us to end up on opposing sides again.”
For a split second, Theo appeared to be analyzing you like some undecipherable code. Like he knew you were giving him an out. The scrutiny in his gaze unnerved you. Then his expression changed, that familiar smirk falling firmly back in place. He slipped on that cocky arrogance like a mask.
You wondered how many times he’s done it without you even noticing.
“More poetic than reenacting the very first detention that led us here?”
Without meaning to, you glanced at the supply closet in the back of the room. Nearly a year ago, the two of you had been arguing about the best way to organize the crate of vials Snape had left for you when you finally pushed Theo against the wall and kissed him in order to shut him up.
You swallowed thickly just as Theo’s slender fingers curved around the back of your thighs. The barrier of your wool tights suddenly felt oppressive even though you’d worn them for warmth.
“What happened to not ravishing me until a successful brew?”
“Seeing as you’re entirely hopeless, we might be brewing for the remainder of the day,” Theo said as he pulled you against him. His lips ghosted against the column of your throat, smiling when he felt you shiver underneath him. “And I don’t think I can wait that long without a taste.”
“What if I say no?” you quipped.
He pressed soft kisses along your jaw in response. “That may be an even bigger miracle than you brewing the damn draught, but go ahead, little bird. I’d love to see you try.”
The two of you stared at one another. You were going to cave. Theo knew it. You knew it. If you were capable of saying no to the insufferable git, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. Finally, you sighed.
“Fuck it.”
You pressed your lips against his, nearly toppling him over on the stool. He groaned against your mouth, walking you backwards to the supply closet. Theo lifted you up with ease and secured your legs around his waist, clearing the room in less than a minute.
A smirk tugged at your lips when he briefly pulled away to nip at your neck. “What?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your skin.
“You taste like pumpkin spice.”
There was nothing but pure hunger in his gaze as Theo nudged the door open with his foot. He set you down against a wooden slab before kneeling between your legs.
You shivered when those hypnotizing eyes flickered back up to you.
“Don’t worry, diavolina. I’ll taste like you soon enough.”
If someone held you at wand point and forced you to say one nice thing about Theodore, it would be that the boy knew how to eat pussy. He probably authored the manual on it. Nott did things with his tongue that defied the very laws of nature.
You whimpered as he flicked his tongue over your clit, circling not once but twice before lapping up your arousal like a man starved. When his slender fingers joined the mix, you could’ve sworn that you’d transcended reality all together. Theo remained transfixed on you even as he brought you closer to the edge, his forearm keeping your hips pinned down to keep you from arching against his mouth.
“Louder, principessa. I want to hear those pretty little moans when I make you come.”
The sound that came out of your mouth sounded nothing like you. “Oh god, oh my fucking god—“
“You can just call me Theo, you know.”
You laughed hoarsely as you pulled his hair. “Twat.”
“Oh, I’m quite enjoying yours at the moment.”
Whatever retort forming in your mind died on your tongue as his fingers curled inside of you, touching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. The orgasm was a blinding light, an exploding supernova that incinerated your nerves as Theo brought you to the edge. When you came with a cry, he gave your clit a harsh suck and crooked his fingers until you felt overstimulated. Theo had no intention of slowing down even as you spasmed underneath his touch.
“You didn’t think that was it, did you?” Theo teased, his mouth glistening with your arousal. “We’re just getting started, darling. I went a whole summer without tasting you and I’m warning you now. I’m fucking ravenous.”
“I can’t—I can’t take any more, please.”
He chuckled darkly. “I do love it when you beg, but I know you can take more. I’ve seen you do it. I want your legs to shake so badly that you won’t even be able to stand before I’m done with you, diavolina. Then and only then will I consider stopping. Do you understand?”
Your throat felt dry, but you nodded all the same. “You’re a sadist, Nott.”
“And you’re my little masochist," he said, smirking between your thighs. Danger flashed in those watercolor eyes. Theo was far from finished with you. "What a twisted pair we make.”
A shiver skittered down your spine as he yanked your hips towards him. “Now be a good little witch and spread those legs wide, dolcezza. We’re about to find out how many licks it takes to make a Ravenclaw scream.”
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#ugh he's so filthy i love him so much#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott smut#theo nott fic#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott x you#theo nott fluff#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott smut#theodore nott imagine
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more than friends + lando norris x part four
In which your best friend wants to help you so you get more sexual experience, but he discovers quickly that he never wants to share you and your new sexual experience with others.
masterlist - playlist
warnings: smut with a plot or a plot with smut? :) minors dni! i never proofread so probably grammar or spelling errors
requested: yes, based on: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things (ofc pretending for it to bot mean anything), while he’s actually in love with her
part one / part two / part three
“Lan,” you start you sentence a bit shy, “when uh, when are we going to have sex?” You continue to ask. You feel your cheeks reddening while asking him the question. Lando looks confused at your sudden question.
“What’s with the hurry?” He asks you a bit confused.
You let out a nervous laugh. “This is going to sound stupid,” you say nervous, “but there’s this guy who asked me on a date.”
“So?” Lando asks. He already feels jealousy coming up. Someone asked you onto a date? He wonders who asked you. Fuck.
“I uh, I wanted to wait with the date for when I’m not a virgin anymore,” you confess, “I think it’s uh, it’s better for my confidence.” Is it bad that you don’t tell Lando that you want him, specifically him, to take your virginity?
“How long can you stall him?” Lando asks you, “because I don’t think it’s a good idea to rush this.”
“Uh now I already told him I would go away with you for the triple header,” you explain, “so at least three weeks.”
Lando feels a bit more relieved now. In three weeks a lot can change right? Maybe he will finally find the confidence to tell you about his crush. Maybe not. Since he has a crush on you for multiple years and all those years weren’t enough to gather the confidence to tell you…
“That’ll work,” Lando eventually says.
“So what’s next?” You ask Lando, “I feel like there’s so much you still have to teach me.”
“Relax babygirl,” Lando says, “I think we need to focus on how I’m going to pack my suitcase with stuff for three weeks in an hour..”
“You didn’t pack yet?” You ask Lando confused, “We’re leaving in an hour!”
“Oops?” Lando laughs.
You let out a soft sigh. “You never change,” you tell Lando eventually with a small smile. Then you stand up to help Lando pack his stuff. As you almost always do. It doesn’t take the two of you long. Like a couple times earlier, you secretly put some shirts into Lando his luggage. The boy is way too stubborn to pack something else then hoodies, but he never checks the weather. Something you of course already did while packing your own stuff, so you know for sure he needs some normal shirts.
“Thanks babygirl,” Lando says after he closes the zippers. He moves closer to you and presses a kiss against your forehead. You don’t know what has gotten into you, but without giving it a second thought you press a kiss onto Lando his lips. Lando smiles during the kiss. He pulls you closer to himself and wraps his arms around your body. The kiss was meant as a simple, innocent one. But Lando is quick to make it turn into a make out session. His hands are roaming over your body. Quickly he finds your ass. Softly he squeezes it a couple times. You let out a soft moan while your lips are still pressed on Lando’s.
Lando his ringtone distracts the both of you from what you were doing. You watch him pick up and say a simple ‘okay’ after a couple seconds. “The driver is here,” he informs you, you show him a small nod. He grabs his luggage and takes a couple of your backs with him as well.
“You know,” Lando tells you, “you’re a great kisser.” In the mean time the two of you walk towards the driver who’s there to bring you to the airport.
“I learned from the best,” you tell Lando with a small innocent smile.
Lando lets out a soft laugh. “Imagine how great you will be on all the other things with such a good teacher,” he tells you with the same laugh.
“We will see,” you reply.
+++
Lando sighs when he sits down in his drivers room. You don’t know what to say. He just lost a great lap time due to track limits. He would be placed second tomorrow if he didn’t lose his time. You know he’s probably mad at himself right now. Lando mutters softly. You can’t hear him properly, but you guess he’s calling himself an idiot. It hurts you to see him like this. You have been here for all his highs in formula one, but also for all of his lows. You have seen him this upset with himself many times before. It never hurts less.
“Lan,” you softly say. He doesn’t even look at you while responding, “Don’t say it isn’t my fault, I’m the one who got track limits,” he states.
“Maybe I can cheer you up?” You eventually suggest.
“Cheer me up?” Lando asks you confused.
“Distract you a bit,” you continue.
“How babygirl?” Lando asks you even more confused.
“What about another lesson?” You ask Lando, “You could teach me how to give you a blowjob.”
“But I didn’t even went down on you,” Lando quickly brings in, “you don’t have to do this.”
“What if I want to? You look like you can use something that cheers you up,” you state.
“Sure?” Lando asks you. You show him a nod. “Words,” Lando states, reminding you about his need for you to say everything. “Yes Lando,” you say, “I want to give you a blowjob.” Lando’s facial expression is quick to bright up. He’s already smiling about the idea of your lips around his dick. It even causes him to get a boner.
“But you need to tell me what to do,” you tell Lando a bit nervous. Lando is quick to nod, he grabs one of your hands and moves it slowly to his boner. You don’t wait for a new instruction, slowly you palm his already hard bulge through his race suit. Lando stays silent for a bit, he enjoys your movements in peace. You apply a bit more pressure while palming him. In the mean time you press a kiss against Lando his neck.
After a few minutes of moving slowly on his bulge, you try to grab his dick through his race suit. Lando groans when you take him inside your hand. He pulls down the zipper of his race suit. While he unzips his suit, you take a good look at him. It feels almost unfair how hot he is. His fireproof is doing all kind of things to you.
“Can I take it off?” Lando asks you. “Yes,” you reply quickly. You move your hands away from him, giving him the space to pull of his race suit. Lando grins. He kicks off his shoes and then pulls off the suit to step out of it. You keep looking at him. It feels so bare to see him in only his briefs, but then you remind yourself that he will remove those too in a bit.
Before Lando can pull his briefs off himself, you move your lips to his chest. You press multiple kisses against it, slowly moving down towards his dick. In the mean time you hold his boner in your hand, slowly stroking it. When you reach the edge of his boxers, you stop stroking his member. Slowly you pull his briefs a bit down. His hard member is quick to pop out of his briefs. Lando continues your movements and takes off his boxer.
You take your time to look at his dick. You have seen some porn movies before, so you already had an imagine from how it would look. But in a weird way, it seems more appealing to you now. Lando his member is pretty. You never thought you would think that about a dick. He watches you while you stare at his member. You notice the thick vein that is laying onto his dick, now that you think about it. His whole member seems thick. Maybe not as long as those in the porn movies, but you already guessed that those were a bit fake. You wonder how this will ever fit inside of your mouth and one day inside of your vagina.
“If you’re not sure, you don’t have to do this,” Lando softly tells you.
“No,” you quickly state, “I want to do this. Just tell me what to do.”
Lando grins happily. He’s glad you still want to blow him. He isn’t sure if a cold shower would have helped this time. In the mean time you move your hands onto his dick again. Lando feels himself hardening even more. Has he ever been this hard? You explore his dick slowly with your hands. You trace the thick vein on top of it with one of your fingers while waiting for Lando to say something.
“You uh, you can lick it a bit if you want?” Lando asks you, “Make it a bit wet.”
You are quick to take his words into action. Without giving it a second thought, you move your head closer to his member. Carefully you place your tongue onto it, even more careful you give him a couple licks. Lando lets out a soft moan. You continue your movements. You let your tongue slide over his dick. Exploring the way it feels on your tongue.
“Put it in your mouth,” Lando says after a while.
You do what he says. With a careful movement you take the top of his dick inside your mouth. You try to go as deep as you can, but you’re quick to feel some tears popping up in the corners of your eyes.
“Slowly babygirl,” Lando says, “you don’t have to take everything inside. The top is the most sensitive part.”
You remove your mouth shortly to take a deep breath. When you place his dick back into your mouth, you try to remember his words. You make sure the top of his boner is inside your mouth, there’s room for a bit more but you act carefully. You remind yourself to take your time. Slowly you lick around his tip with your tongue. It earns you another moan from Lando. Something that makes you feel good on the inside. Giddy even.
“Move your head a bit down and up,” Lando instructs you, “Try to make the same stroking movements from before, but now with your mouth.”
Again you take Lando his words into action. Slowly you move your head up and down. You let your mouth slide over his dick a couple times. Lando moans again. You feel proud that you are the reason of those moans. Without thinking about it, you take the part of his member that isn’t in your mouth into your hand. You start to stroke it, alining the movements with the bobbing you do with your mouth.
“Fuck,” Lando groans, “You’re good at this.”
His words make you feel even better. It causes you to fasten your movements. You try to lick his tip as well in the mean time. Lando is quick to start to become a moaning mess underneath your touch. You feel his dick pulse in your mouth.
“If you don’t want a taste, you should finish with your hands,” Lando grunts. You don’t act on his words, you continue your earlier movements. Maybe you do want a taste?
Lando looks at you while feeling himself getting close to his orgasm. He looks at the way you stare at his dick while making the movements that make him feel like this. He had a couple blowjobs before from different girls, but none of them felt as good as from you. How can someone like you - with no sexual experience - be so much better then others? It’s insane. While looking at you he feels his orgasm getting really close.
“Last warning babygirl,” he tells you softly. You still don’t remove your mouth from his dick. Because of his words you know that he’s close, his moans are also giving that part away. You try to take his dick a bit deeper inside your mouth. Before you know it, you notice a salty taste inside your mouth. You quick to find the reason. Lando just came.
Slowly you continue your movements from before, but you decrease your pace more and more. A couple more drops of Lando his cum are finding it’s way inside your mouth. When you think he’s completely empty you remove your mouth. While looking at Lando you swallow his cum.
“Fuck,” Lando grunts, “I could come again by looking at you doing that.”
You show Lando a shy smile. He pulls you close onto himself. Lando presses a small kiss onto your forehead before moving his lips to yours. He presses another kiss onto your lips.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that you just gave me the blowjob of my life?” Lando asks you. You are quick to shake your head, “No,” you say.
“You just did babygirl,” Lando tells you honestly, “I have never been blowed this good before.”
You laugh softly. “Maybe this says something about those others girls,” you say.
“No,” Lando quickly states, “It says everything about you. You’re really good at this babe. And you did find a really good way to distract me.”
You laugh, “I’ll remember that for the next time. Don’t beat yourself up because of it Lan, tomorrow you will fight for a lot of points. I bet you’re even on the podium.”
“If I get a podium I want to celebrate if with eating you out,” Lando states.
You laugh again. “That’s not a celebration.”
“It is for me.”
Fuck. Why is your stomach tightening because of Lando his words? This can’t be good.
part five
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#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris imagine#ln4#formula one#f1#lando norris imagines#lando norris smut
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All I Really Want Is You
older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap eight/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday
Red, White & Boom
summary: A Fourth of July block party ends in fireworks.
wc: 6.8k (🙄 it’s fine, you’re falling in love.)
warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. I don’t know based on Steve’s promise in the last one, what do you think? 😏
author’s note: there were so many different versions of this chapter before I got here and I just want to say thank you to my friends who helped me through this one. I just wanted it to be perfect 🧡
🌇 <- chapter seven | (bonus chapter playlist)
🌆 -> chapter nine
The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:
July 4th -
Instead of the Good Morning tough girl you were expecting the next day, it was Good Morning beautiful that you read.
Steve Harrington woke you up calling you beautiful for the three mornings after that too.
The night before the fourth, you could hardly sleep with his promise to kiss you still fresh in your mind. It lingered and attached itself to every thought since he left you with it.
How was he going to do it? When was he going to do it? When he picks you up? Middle of the date? End of the date? What if he changes his mind?
The nerves are even worse as you stare at yourself in the long mirror of your room and your eyes catch the time. 1:52pm. Steve was ‘picking you up’ at two and you were on your fourth outfit in the last hour. Trying to find something that was cute enough for a first date but also practical for walking around the city in the summer heat was starting to feel impossible.
Date.
The word makes the fluttering start before he’s even arrived, a smile tugging at your lips when you think it again. Would you get used to it?
The shorts you settle on are a high waisted dark denim pair that cut off and fringe in the middle of your thighs, The black low cut ribbed top you match them with has a lace trim along the sleeves and the dip down down the middle. It hugs your curves in a way that makes you feel confident, something in your closet you know you won’t spend the whole day adjusting and fiddling with.
Knock, knock - knock, knock
Jumping when you hear his knuckles against the wood, you give yourself another once over before deciding it’s good enough. With your shoes still in the corner of your room, your slippers slide against your floor all the way to your front door. Nerves tighten your chest, a shaky breath leaving between glossed lips before you stop to give yourself a minute to let it sink in- mentally preparing to see the man who showed up at your front door steps with his heart in his hands. Your handsome neighbor with a past and a Bandit as his best friend.
You have to hold back the sigh that threatens to escape when you lay your eyes on him for the first time since that night. His grin is lopsided, the almost beard he had is gone, like he’d shaved it the next day leaving just the kind of stubble you liked the most.
“Hey, tough girl.” Pearly whites flash when he says it sweet, dripping with extra honey just for you.
His hair is freshly done like when he’s on his way to work, the grays on the sides seem lighter from spending a weekend out in the sun. The sleeves are short on his dark navy button up, the linen material fitting him loose and snug in all the right places. The two ivory buttons on top are undone, leaving a place for his Raybans to dangle. The weight of them pulls it down just enough to see the beginnings of his dark curls underneath and the silver pendant at the end of the chain that always hangs around his neck.
“Hi Steve.” You bite your bottom lip to try and contain your smile, your hips twisting from side to side with your hands behind your back, you can’t help it when he talks to you like that.
He’s wearing the same pants you saw him in when you brought him cannolis. The cream ones he almost kissed you in. The bottoms are cuffed, a pair of dark brown loafers on his feet, they look worn in but the gold buckle on top of them still shines in the dingy light of your stairwell.
“You look too pretty to be going on a date with me,” he says it in a way that almost makes you believe it.
“Look who’s talkin’, handsome,” you manage to get out, making the apples of his cheeks dust your favorite shade of pink.
Opening your apartment door a little wider, the knots in your stomach twist a little tighter when his eyes linger on your lips.
Is he gonna do it now?
“You can come in, I just gotta put on my shoes.” You clear your throat, stepping aside when he doesn’t make any moves, tugging at the low cut collar of your shirt like it’s tight as your blood starts to run hot.
You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when he crosses the threshold, it’s different today, more woodsy than you’re used to and it makes your head spin. He looks around with fresh eyes, admiring all the details he missed now that he can see them in the light of day. Glimpses of you that he hasn’t gotten to know yet. Missing pieces to your puzzle. His gaze slowly finds its way to your kitchen that almost sparkles.
“That’s two visits in a row that I’ve come here and your dishes are done.” Steve points to your empty sink, “I’m impressed.”
He gets his first eye roll of the day.
“Careful, we haven’t left yet. I could still cancel.” Wiggling your slipper covered feet as a reminder, you smirk. “My shoes aren’t even on, it’d be so easy to do.”
“Oh yeah? How easy?” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, the corners of his mouth twitch as he tries to keep his face straight.
“Like flipping a light switch, easy,” you retort smugly, making sure to sway your hips a little more when you walk to your room. Fighting the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face, you lose when you’re out of his sight.
You aren’t expecting him to follow you, but you find him standing in your doorway when you take a seat on your bed.
“If it’s so easy…” there’s a new confidence in the way he looks at you now, like knows you want him too.
He looks at the untied sneakers next to your feet before taking the first steps into your room. He pauses to let you stop him, but when you smirk at him with a cocked eyebrow he closes the rest of the space. Crouching down in front of you, playful eyes meet yours from under thick lashes. The freckles that dot the top of his nose seem darker in the daylight. You wonder if there’s a way to find and kiss all of them.
“Let me make it harder.”
He’s gentle when he takes your socked foot in his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping through the cotton. It makes your heart race. He grabs your sneaker, the slight platform looking small in his grasp when his fingers wrap around your ankle to push it on. The pad of his thumb rubs at the soft skin there when he has to use a little force.
Long fingers work the laces like a pro, forearms flexing when he tightens after each eyelet, always just enough, never too tight. Leaning back on your palms, you watch him with the kind of adoration you couldn’t hide even if you tried when he repeats the same process on your other foot.
He ties both in a perfect bow, a proud smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes when he looks up for your approval. Your favorite strand already begs to come out of its gelled confines and your fingers itch ready to brush it away again if it escapes.
“I usually double tie it,” you giggle with another wiggle of your foot. “I mean, if you really wanna make sure I stay put.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, hot breath fanning against your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake. He holds your stare while tying his perfect bow into a duplicate on both shoes, smirking when you squirm.
“No running now honey.”
The neighborhood is alive in a different way than you’ve seen before, the rush of everyday life is replaced with sparklers, Italian ice, and live music. The cars that lined the sides of the street including Steve’s are nowhere to be seen. Multicolored tents with homemade signs of vendors from all over the city replace them instead.
The sun hangs high, bright in the cerulean sky. Golden and warm like the man next to you. His Raybans cover his eyes now, leaving you defenseless against trying to read his thoughts. It’s different in public like this, it’s not just you two in the spaces between houses - in front yards, in alleys, in kitchens. It’s new feelings, new territory, and lots of people, but Steve searches for comfort in you when he takes your hand into his like it’s nothing.
“This is not what I was expecting when you said block party,” you say with an overwhelmed giggle, walking with no real destination, moving with the crowd.
The fair rides catch your sight from the end of the street taking up the middle school parking lot. A ferris wheel just high enough you think you’d be able to see the lake from the top of it. It blinks multicolored bulbs, red white and blue flags hanging from its hinges blowing in the breeze haphazardly. The sweet smell of honey roasted almonds almost over powers the sizzle of Italian beef, and the butter of the popcorn.
“Yeah, they go all out because it’s sponsored,” Steve offers with a shy smile, “This is actually my first one if I’m being honest, I usually go out of town for these, Bandit hates fireworks.”
“Wait? Is he home? Is he going to be okay? Do you have one of those vest thingy’s? I’ve read about them-“ Your pace slows, worry setting deep in your features and Steve thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
“Yes, he’s in good hands. He’s staying with his aunt Nancy in the suburbs where it’s not so bad.” He chuckles, pulling your hand to his lips, they’re soft like silk when they press a kiss to your skin. It’s enough for your face to relax, eyes glazing over at the contact. “I promise honey.”
“Such a good daddy Steve, it’s cute,” you giggle, the nickname falling way too easily off your lips to not even be looking at him. Steve’s jaw clenches, he wants to kiss you. Bad. It doesn’t help that your gloss shimmers like glitter in the sun. Tempting him. The worst part is knowing you’d let him kiss you too.
Not yet - the plan.
His hand twitches at his side, he wants the familiar comfort of his fingers through his hair to ease his nerves but he can’t. It took him way too long to get it styled like this. Instead, he scratches at his jaw with a tight lipped smile.
“Thanks, I try.”
The two of you wander through the different tents, a tentative hand always finding its way to your lower back whenever you stop at something you want to take a closer look at. Light conversation about your weeks at work comes easy, your touches staying a little shy, both of you unsure how to act in such a crowded place.
The more the afternoon goes on like this, the endless butterflies that only exist for him start to stir from their cocoons. It’s when you lean over a table to get a better look at a moonstone that’s delicately hanging from a silver chain, that they start to stretch their wings. They flutter when you feel bold fingertips trace a line up your spine before long fingers wrap around the back of your neck giving the tense muscles there a squeeze. The pad of his thumb digging lightly into the spot behind your ear that makes your eyes want to close. You tuck your bottom lip between teeth to hold back your groan, the week of heavy trays and heavy thoughts coming loose under his touch.
“You like that one?” His voice startles you, it’s deep, rich and just above a whisper right by your ear. He chuckles when you jump a little letting his hand slide down the dip of your back, blunt nails scratching at the small of it.
“Yeah, it’s cute. I used to have one just like it but I lost it a few years ago.” Your eyes trace around the smooth stone, before seeing the sixty dollar price tag attached to it.
Not that cute.
“Hopefully not in a sink.” It comes out of his mouth like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.
The glare you give him makes him snort, hands raising in surrender while your reflection in his lenses turns you into a giggling mess. The sixty year old woman in a moo moo trying to cool herself down with a paper fan on the other side of the table doesn’t think either of you are very funny. Steve digs for his wallet, your mouth opening in protest before he pulls out a crisp twenty from the tan leather billfold.
“Let’s get out of her hair, I saw something a few tables down that I want to grab for Eddie. Want to get us a lemonade and I’ll meet you?” Steve points to the concession stand on the other side of the tent, where a line of over excited kids and their already worn out parents have formed.
You watch his eyebrows raise behind the frames of his sunglasses when you just stare at the money in his hand making no indication of grabbing it. He knows what you’re doing.
“I asked you on a date if you remember, tough girl, I can buy you a what? A six dollar drink?” He huffs, lips twitching despite himself.
Steve gets his second eye roll of the day, this one accompanied with the kind of smile he wants from you all the time. He hopes it was the reminder that you were on a date with him that makes you beam like that.
“Fair enough of an argument, I guess,” you sigh with a hint of a giggle at the end, and it makes him shake his head, white teeth on display leaving you a giddy mess.
He holds the bill out for you to take again, even though his eyes are hidden behind tinted lenses, you know he’s giving you a look. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing, your fingers wrapping around the bill sweetly.
“I’ll be five minutes,” he starts as you tuck the twenty into your back pocket.
“I got your number handsome.” You wink, making his cheeks bubblegum pink as you walk away. “No running, remember?”
“That double knot isn’t coming loose honey. Five minutes.” He gestures the minutes with his hand, the kind of grin on his face that threatens to make you fall in love.
🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋
The heat starts getting sticky, the breeze from before coming to a standstill making the plastic cup wet in your hand. The condensation drips down the bright yellow lemons that decorate it and onto your fingers but it feels good. You shift from side to side awkwardly next to the concession stand, people watching with the green bendy straw in your mouth. You’re closer to the school now, the sight of fair games in the shade of tents cooled down by giant fans catches your eye. The empty ring toss table calling your name.
That’s when you see him, an irrational anger settling in your gut at how he somehow looks even more attractive than he did ten minutes ago. You can tell the moment he spots you through the crowd, a giant smile stretching so wide across his face it threatens to compete with the sun and it's just for you.
“That was longer than five minutes, Steve,” you tsk when he reaches you, trying not to overthink the fact that he doesn’t have any sort of bag.
He chuckles, a little out of breath, giving into his impulse to run his fingers through his hair. The heat of the day finally ruining any product that was left in it.
“You just got one lemonade?” He points to the dripping cup in your hands with a smirk.
“Yeah, I realized that after I’d ordered, but could you imagine if I was left waiting here for ten minutes with two of these?!” You lift it up like it's heavy before narrowing your eyes playfully, “Why? Got a problem sharing with me or something?”
He lifts his sunglasses pushing them up to rest on top of his head, and they almost get lost in the thickness of his honey and pepper locks. The full force of the mossy green browns of his eyes make your thighs press.
“No, just wanted to make sure before I did this.” Leaning forward, his gaze stays focused on yours before his lips wrap around the straw. His adams apple bobs in his throat when he takes a long gulp, while beads of sweat collect and drip down the sides of his neck making you lick your lips.
“G-good?” You manage to ask when he pulls away wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
“Delicious actually. Is that a hint of strawberry?” Steve asks with a widening grin, the pad of his thumbs swiping away some of the excess lipgloss he’d gotten off the straw. You rub your lips together subconsciously, the corners of them threatening to pull up when he puts his sunglasses back on.
“Strawberry and watermelon actually.”
The air between you grows thick with something that’s not the humidity, especially when you see the way more sweat glistens from the tease of soft curls on his chest. Was that a third button undone?
“I didn’t catch the watermelon, I’ll just have to get a better taste next time.” His ears catch your quick intake of breath. He could do it now, really taste you. The way your eyes keep dropping to his mouth tells him you want him to.
Stick to the plan.
He takes the cup that you have to hold with both hands into one, fingers wrapping around it with ease. Stealing your hand in his other, they intertwine like they missed each other. The cold condensation left on your palm from the lemonade cools the warmth of his heated skin from the sun and from you.
“Let’s go check out the games.”
“You know ring toss is a scam right?” Steve sighs, the two of you standing in front of the booth you’d eye’d from across the block.
“It’s not a scam, it’s a game of skill Steve.”
You give him his third eye roll of the day and it makes the corners of his lips curve despite giving you one in return.
“I thought you were Mr. Sports anyway, shouldn’t you be good at this? Don’t you work for the Cubs or something?” You copy his stance, taking note of how it gets him more irritated.
“Mr. Sports? I do marketing, I don’t play for the team,” he scoffs at the nickname, but the playfulness that fills your eyes is contagious and it’s enough to feed his soul for months. “I’m plenty good at this game, I just didn’t want you to get discouraged.”
“Me? Discouraged?” You give him a sarcastic laugh and it makes his cheeks push up. He can’t remember the last time he smiled like this.
“I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.” He shrugs, taking another sip of the lemonade so he doesn’t laugh at the face that gets you to make.
“You don’t have to look out for me, in fact I’m gonna raise the stakes Harrington.” He loves how you say his last name like you’ve known him for years, especially when you’re heated. “The loser has to buy funnel cake after this, or is that too much for you to handle?” You raise your eyebrows, in a challenge.
“It’s never too much for me to handle.” Steve makes sure to look you up and down, enjoying the way it makes you squirm before continuing, “And don’t worry I’m not really going to make you pay for the funnel cake after I beat you.”
He signals to the teenager on the other side of the table for two rounds, laughing at the way you scoff around giggles giving his shoulder a light shove.
———————————————————————
It takes about three throws for Steve to realize he’s going to eat his words when he watches the plastic ring bounce off the lip of the bottle again.
“Aww maybe the next one, champ.” you pout with a quick flick of your wrist, your fourth ring hitting the top of the bottle before spinning down the neck of it with a hollow hum just like the three before and it makes Steve’s jaw clench. “I like extra powdered sugar by the way.”
He grumbles something to himself grabbing his last ring, feeling the heat of your stare on him, he tries to ignore the way it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks and focus on at least making one. His eyes squint as he picks his target.
“Maybe you need those glasses that were on your desk?” You shrug nonchalantly, conveniently refusing to meet his incredulous gaze, a smirk playing the edges of your lips.
“I don’t need glasses - who are you? Where’s that sweet girl from next door, huh?” He can’t help but laugh when your smirk breaks out into a fit of giggles.
“I'm competitive when it comes to meaningless games, Steve. What can I say?” You sigh, your admission making him snort as he refocuses on the bottle again.
“Competitive but hates sports, makes total sense,” mumbling, he does a few practice throws not letting the ring go. He’s not expecting you to come up beside him so close that he can smell the perfume you sprayed this morning. He wants to bury his nose in your neck and inhale.
“Just bend your arm a little here, baby,” the teasing edge to your voice is gone, replaced with something sticky sweet like the lemonade he shared with you, like your strawberry and watermelon lip gloss. ‘Baby’ rings loud in his ears and needs to hear you say it again, he always wants to be your baby.
Your touch is gentle when you bend his elbow just slightly, soft fingers that feel electric.
“You settin’ me up?” Steve’s eyes meet yours, smile going lopsided when he catches you getting a little shy.
“I’m not! I promise.” You giggle again and he decides he’ll buy you as many funnel cakes as you want. “If you think you’re throwing it too soft, you’re not.”
You back away to let him make his move, he’s more concentrated than you’ve ever seen as he takes your advice to heart. His tongue pokes out as he lines himself up, silently counting to three before letting go. You hold back your squeal watching it catch on the top, spinning sloppily down the neck plastic clinking against the glass loudly.
“Wooo!” Steve’s hands shoot up the bottom of his shirt rising with it giving you a glimpse of his happy trail. Excitement radiating from his bright smile..
God you just want to kiss him.
“See, skill, not luck,” you tease.
“How’d you get so good at this?” He questions watching you make your fifth one without a second thought.
“I lived in a small town with nothing to do but stupid games like this.” You shrug, you hadn’t thought about home since moving here, a nostalgic pain hits your chest.
“You get to pick a prize,” the teenager cuts into your conversation, refusing to let Steve ask the questions that were obviously on the tip of his tongue.
He points to the grid wall behind him where everything from classic teddy bears, purple dragons, and dancing bananas are strung up in a pop of bright colors. Steve watches with admiration at the focus on your face as your eyes look over every option like it’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make in your life. Then you look up at him and ask-
“Which one do you think Bandit would like?”
Maybe his plan was stupid, maybe he should just say fuck it and kiss your right here.
“I think he’d really dig the banana, definitely his style.” Steve nods casually trying not to let it show that he thinks he’s already falling in love with you.
You beam at him before telling the kid your choice, excitedly grabbing it when it’s handed to you. Steve looks out to the sun starting to set burnt orange and pink in the sky telling himself he can hold out for at least another hour, maybe two. Maybe.
“You should have seen the woman’s face when I asked for more sugar,” Steve huffs, dropping the deep fried treat in front of you. The sweet powder puffs like smoke falling off the dough like snow landing onto the already formed piles that cover the bottom of the paper plate.
“She was just jealous,” you wave off, wiggling your fingers in excitement unsure of where to even start as he takes the seat next to you, knees bumping under the picnic table you’d found.
“Jealous of what? The dentist visit I’ll need to pay for after this?” Steve cocks an eyebrow, pulling off a piece regardless of his complaining. His sunglasses hang down the middle of his shirt again, the sun low enough for his eyes to come out of hiding, stealing some of the confidence you have when you don’t get distracted by them.
You roll your eyes for the fourth time and it starts making him feel spoiled, especially the way the corners of your mouth always give you away curving up the littlest bit after each one.
Ignoring his complaining you plop a piece into your mouth, the extra sugar sticks to your gloss and he really starts to hate his plan again when he watches your tongue dart out to lick it off.
“So what made you move here?” Steve asks, the curiosity from before coming back as he brushes some of the powder from another piece.
A small laugh escapes through your nose, your eyes meeting his from under your lashes before darting back to the dessert. You didn’t have an exciting or dramatic reason to give, not even a career path. The nerves of a different kind kick up in the fear of being perceived as a mess once he really gets to know you. It makes your palms sweat.
“I don’t know, New York always intimidated me,” you offer with a half smile, picking at the sides of the fried dough.
“Come on, tough girl.” Steve bumps his shoulder with yours, his cologne mixing with the day in a way that has you wanting to bottle it up for yourself.
You sigh, lips twitching in a grin before giving into him.
“It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. Live in a big city.” You gesture around you before ripping off another bite. “My parents have never lived anywhere else their whole lives, so I promised myself that if I was still there when I was thirty, I’d do it. I’d pack up and move no matter what, and that’s exactly what I did.” You laugh, popping the small treat in your mouth.
“I don’t really have a plan? I don’t really know what I’m doing which is scary and exciting all at the same time,” you admit, avoiding his gaze hunting for another perfect bite and it just kinda feels like stress eating now.
“You sound like me.” Steve chuckles, and it makes you freeze, finally daring to look at him. The tan he got from the day was already starting to show, the laugh lines under his eyes a little more prominent from this close. The stubble that lines his jaw has a little more salt than pepper.
“Yeah?” You hate how quiet your voice sounds, blaming it on the way his thigh is pressed tight against yours.
“You think I wanted to get into sports marketing my whole life?” Steve snorts, “I”m from a small town in Indiana, I worked at an ice cream shop in a mall and a video rental store after high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or who I was.”
His hand reaches under the table, fingers wrapping around your knee to give it a reassuring squeeze.
“If it wasn’t for a drunk night with Eddie and my other best friend Robin after a shitty day at work,” He shrugs, picking at the dough, “telling me about this three bedroom apartment in Chicago they had found real cheap through some guy named Rick, who knows what I’d be doing now.”
There’s a moment of silence between you, letting the realization that the Steve you’d built up in your head wasn’t the man next to you. The man next to you was better. He was real. Hope blooms inside your chest that maybe you weren’t so lost after all.
“Well, that just made me like you even more. Great.” You fake annoyance but your shy smile gives you away.
“Oh yeah?” He flirts, wiggling his eyebrows at you leaning in closer, loving how he can hear the stutter in your breath every time.
“Well, maybe.”
“Maybe?” His question comes out soft, his nose bumping yours while his eyes linger on the sugar that collected on your already sweet lips.
You nod with a sigh, sticky gloss and fluttering lashes, big eyes that beg him. The hand on your knee comes up to cup your face, the tip of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down mesmerized by how it still shimmers after all this time.
Fuck the plan.
“Harrington? I thought that was you!”
Both of you jump, your hand nearly flipping the plate when an unsuspecting voice pops you two out of your bubble. Again. It takes everything inside Steve not to groan out loud, recognizing the man behind the interruption instantly. His boss.
“Richard?” Steve’s voice changes to the version you’d heard on the phone as he spins around in his seat giving you the perfect view of the way the linen stretches over his shoulders.
He was going to kiss you and now he’s talking to Richard.
Your eyes meet a much older man’s dark brown ones, he looks somewhere in his mid to late sixties, but the kind of late sixties that told you he had money. The thick white cotton of his t-shirt looks Egyptian, the light wash jeans look like the kind of denim that cost more than your rent. The hundred and fifty dollar leather Cole Haan sneakers on his feet make it seem dressed down despite the wing tip. Casual rich.
“I didn’t think you’d be here sir.” Steve chuckles nervously scratching the back of his neck.
“Well, someone has to see where the money you convinced me to spend is going.” He smiles but it’s warm in spite of his playful jab.
“Besides, I’ve heard it’s you that doesn’t come to these things.” Richard’s eyes meet yours with a knowing sparkle behind them, “But I've got an idea why this year’s different.”
The heat rushes to your cheeks from the implications of his words and you try and bite back your own grin when you look down at the half eaten dessert.
“Well it’s always good to see you outside of the field Harrington, I think The ALS Foundation and the Chicago Parks District will be happy with their checks this year. Great job as always son,” he compliments proudly.
The two of them talk “shop” for a few minutes, but all you can focus on is the fact that Steve put this all together and it’s something he’s been doing for years. Channeling his grief into something good and it makes your heart swell.
“There’s an empty skybox with your name on it for next week’s game, bring your girl. It’ll be fun. I’ll let you two get back to it.” Richard’s voice gets louder with his departure breaking you out of your thoughts as he pats Steve on his shoulder, giving him a fatherly squeeze.
“Enjoy the fireworks.”
He throws you a wink before walking away taking your kiss from Steve with him.
The music thumps low in the distance when you two get to a part of the lake that isn’t a public beach. It’s a Marina but not one for just anybody, the docks are mostly empty but the boats that are there look expensive, definitely not rentals.
‘What are we doing Steve?” You whisper but it sounds more like a yell when he pulls out a keycard to open up the gate that stops you from going inside.
“My buddy has a boat, well it’s not here but his spot is, at the very end. We’d get a perfect view of Navy Pier and the fireworks. No people.” He opens the gate with a loud creak, his hand extending out for you to take. “Jus’ me and you.”
The skyline shines behind him, the wind catching in his unruly hair with the kind of smile you’d be insane to say no to.
So you don’t.
You slide your hand into his without any hesitation, like it’s meant to be there, watching the way it disappears in his grasp.
“That’s my girl.”
The dock bobs in the small waves under your feet as he leads you out to the empty spot all the way at the end. The lake looks black, endless with the other side nowhere in sight. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was the ocean. You’re almost scared when you get to the end and all you can see is the white tops of the water breaking against the rocks.
The faint sounds of voices from the crowds at the pier catch in the wind, the long tourist attraction shining bright not that far from you. The ferris wheel towers above the lake, the glass enclosures catching the lights from the city while its own twinkles against the stars in the clear sky.
“Steve, this is gorgeous.” You don’t know where to look, the man or the city.
He grins like he’s proud of himself, letting your hand go to lay the blanket down. Your eyes take in the view again while he gets situated, and you try to picture what it’s going to look like in a few minutes with all the colors in the sky.
“Baby,” the pet name comes out easy for him when he uses it to get your attention, like it’s what he should’ve been calling you all along. He likes the smile he gets when he says it too.
Both his hands reach out for you to take, helping you down to sit in the space between his legs. His knees lift up when you sit, while his arms wrap around your waist to pull you close. With your back to his chest, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling your neck when the tip of his nose runs along your jaw inhaling the powdered sugar and strawberry that still lingers on your skin.
“God, I’ve wanted you this close all day,” he confesses like it's a secret he’s exhausted from keeping.
“Yeah?” You whisper, tilting your head to give him better access while his lips ghost against the shell of your ear, feeling the way they curve into a smile.
“You have no idea, beautiful girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your temple, the tips of his fingers exploring your rib cage and you wonder if he can feel the butterflies.
His lips drag to the apple of your cheek where he leaves another one before he pulls away, the music getting louder from the pier signaling the start of the show.
“Thank you for today.” You turn your head to look at him because you already miss him.
He tilts his chin down to meet your eyes over the slope of his nose, his knees going flat on the ground while his hand comes up to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb tracing the high bone of your cheek while he holds your gaze. He doesn’t care if he misses the fireworks.
“Really, I should thank you for everything you’ve done since I moved here,” you keep going with a low voice, the water lapping against the dock underneath you creating the kind of peace you don’t want to disturb.
The tip of his nose bumps against yours, quick breaths meeting in the middle. All he’d have to do is tilt his head.
“Honey, you saved me.” Steve’s brows furrow when he presses his forehead against yours.
The sting is happy when you smile at him through glassy eyes, tilting your chin up just enough for your lips to brush.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Color flashes bright in the inky sky, it lights up Steve’s face in red’s and blue’s that sparkle against the jade and chestnut in his eyes. This time the interruption isn’t one that can stop him, closing the space he finally gets to do what he’s wanted to do since that night in his kitchen.
He’s gentle at first, his top lip brushing against your bottom and he loves the way it makes you sigh, giving into him the moment they finally connect. You turn in his lap, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck to pull him closer already needing more, your fingers curl in the soft hair at the base of it, greedy. Colors explode behind your eyes rivaling the ones above you when he dares to lick at your bottom lip, the firework display just the background to the main event when you let him in.
It’s lemonade and mint when his tongue massages slow against yours, his thumb tugging at your chin to open you up more for him. He kisses you like he’s sure of himself, taking his time so he can savor every moment of it like he could do this all night if you’d let him. He would too. The summer of unspoken words and miscommunicated feelings disappear when your lips move with the kind of desperation that comes with letting go. Giving into everything you both tried to fight while your tongues battle for dominance.
It’s too much but not enough all at once, the longer his lips move against yours it’s like they're never meant to be apart, like he didn’t know how he went this long without them.
The fireworks get louder above you signaling that you’re near the end of the show and you wish you had more time, especially when he starts kissing down your neck when he needs to catch his breath. Wet and sloppy, his lips make a sticky mess from all the gloss he collected from you, the watermelon he didn’t get to taste before making itself known. Sugary sweet like the girl in his lap.
“I know it’s super lame to ask for a second date while on the first one, but that baseball game is next week if you want to go?” He finally speaks, breaking the silence, nudging his nose against yours when he finally stops his assault on your neck, swollen and pink, his lips shine with the evidence of you.
“Only if you teach me the rules, or I’ll have no idea who to yell angrily at if you don’t.” You grin, nuzzling into his neck.
“Deal.”
His chest shakes with laughter, while a hand smooths down your back pulling you even closer to him. The smoke from the fireworks still lingers in white wisps in the air. The lapping of the water falling in time with your breathing, while you and Steve enjoy the quiet, letting the crowds go home before you try and make your way back. It’s a night of hushed words, shared secrets, and stolen kisses.
He walks you home at half past midnight, kissing you till you’re dizzy against your door with a promise of a text in the morning. He stops halfway down the stairs before jogging back up to kiss you again, this one a little tender with a whispered “Sweet dreams tough girl.” attached to it.
You don't need to wish for sweet dreams anymore, not when you have Steve.
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beta’d by @superblysubpar
dividers by @newlips
#my wriitng#all i really want it you series#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington series#steve harrington slow burn#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#Spotify
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i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike
Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.
Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader
Word Count | 4.4K
Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.
Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.
Divider by @saradika
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’.
It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do.
Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things.
You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking.
“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head.
“No, why?”
“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.”
And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you.
“They’re delicious.”
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you.
“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist.
“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.”
You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?”
“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.”
You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good.
“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”
He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise.
“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body.
“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease.
“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table.
You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly.
“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little.
You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?”
He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.”
You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.
“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.”
He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up.
You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you.
“Running away?”
You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest.
“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.”
He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks.
“If I have to.” You answer back.
“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.”
You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office.
You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations. Your bag sits on the floor next to it.
He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk.
“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.”
He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.”
You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself.
“You looking that sinful.”
You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?”
He smirks, “As real as you and I.”
He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip.
“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it.
You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed.
He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to?
“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?”
“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath.
You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though.
“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.”
So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up.
You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing.
“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.”
You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?”
He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.”
“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug.
He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.”
This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life.
You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.”
He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks.
You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it.
You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain.
Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough.
“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly.
“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him.
“Your mouth.”
“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties.
“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.”
He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.”
He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet.
“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?”
“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.”
He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge.
Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head.
He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue.
“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?”
“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk.
He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good.
Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun.
When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again.
“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.”
“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.”
He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now.
“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster.
“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.”
And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright.
“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?”
“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.”
You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse.
“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position.
“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear.
You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man.
It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”
You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?”
He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on.
“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel.
He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.”
You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.”
#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike fic#Marcus Pike fanfic#Marcus Pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike fluff#Marcus Pike smut#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x f!reader#Pedro Pascal#The mentalist#the mentalist fic#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#plus size reader
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SNAP OUT OF IT: CHAPTER 0.01
↳ series masterlist! ↳ main masterlist!
↳ summary: in which y/n receives the news of her life and she feels on top of the world, as if nothing could bring her down, until she meets her dorm mate, rather, until she re-meets him.
↳ pairings: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [eventually, in this chapter, they are not friends]
↳ warnings: swearing, mentions of death, cigarettes, drug usage [weed], alcohol consumption, cocky!matt, flirting, bitchy!reader.
↳ important notes: i’ve been so excited to post this! this is going to be slow burn, and updates will be slow as well while i’m in the process of deciding what i want done with back to december, povs will change regularly between reader’s pov, matt’s pov, and third person pov, each pov is vital to the story and each character’s internal battles throughout the series.
↳ playlist for this series! song below for this chapter below!
READER’S POV
my hands shook as i held the letter that determined whether or not i’d have a chance at landing a job in screenwriting or directing, or literally anything the film industry would give me. landing a spot in this course, was extremely tough. it was only open to twenty five students, and there were thousands of applicants to rifle through each semester. it was a prestigious course, and if you excelled in it, the professor would consider sending out a letter of recommendation to any companies he knew were offering an internship. it was such high demand because the professor had a lot of sway when it came to massive filming and production companies, and would often land one of his students their big break.
but in order to apply, at least three years of training under some sort of local theatre was mandatory, the applicants needed to prove that they understood how screenwriting, production, and set or stage management worked, and there was still more that we needed to cover but those were top three areas of experience this course looked at. each applicant needed to prove that they were completely fit for this course and that they genuinely wanted to pursue a career in this field, and if you didn’t show it well enough, you weren’t even added to the consideration list.
it was a tough spot to land, and i would give anything to land a spot in this course. i had fought tooth and nail throughout all of high school to get grades that proved determination and hard work, the only university i ever had in mind was harvard, and if i didn’t get in, i wouldn’t know what to do with my life.
so here i was, freshly twenty-one, and finally holding the letter that led to the rest of my life, good or bad.
“come on you pussy, open it already.” jocelyn groans, she had been my rock throughout the entire application process. she’s been my best friend since we were six and bonded over having the same pencil case when she moved to boston in first grade. however, she’s been a bit callous to the idea of me being nervous about reading this letter. she was the type that barely scraped in high school, and she had decided pretty early that she didn’t want to go to any college or university. she excelled online and had amounted a huge following.
“joce, i love you but please shut up. this is the most important letter i’ve held in my entire life. i’m scared, what if i don’t get in?”
“please bitch, you’ve worked harder than anyone i know, i’m sure you’re going to get in.”
“thanks joce, but i genuinely don’t trust your judgement after the last guy you hooked up with. so i am going to take a shot and then open it.” i laugh, walking over to the cupboard above the fridge, grabbing the bottle of tequila we had bought in preparation for this very moment. i also grabbed two shot glasses from the mini bar-cart we had beside the fridge of our shared apartment, and began pouring a shot for the both of us.
“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god!” she gasps from behind me, making quickly turn around, only to see that she held the open letter in her hands.
“what?”
“you fucking got in!” she exclaims, causing goosebumps to rise along my skin as i stand and watch her eyes dart back and forth along the page, reading the words aloud.
“dear miss l/n, i am pleased to inform you that the committee on Film and Visual Studies has voted to offer you a place in the Harvard class of 2025. dude you did it!” she beams, her voice full of pride and excitement, causing tears to well along my waterline as i stare at her.
“oh my fucking god, i did it.” i sob, feeling genuinely accomplished for the first time in my life.
“however it does say that the only available dorm situation is co-ed, since you had applied for on-campus living.”
“that’s fine with me honestly.” i shrug, wiping the tears, unable to rid my face of the smile that resides on it.
“alright, let’s take some shots and then start packing the rest of your shit. i can’t believe i’ll be living without for so long, i can finally walk around naked.” she hums, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as i sigh, my arms winding tightly around her waist.
i let out a loud laugh as i grab the bottle of tequila, followed by the two full shot glasses, sliding jocelyn hers as i stare at her.
“you’re acting as if you don’t already do that.”
“touché, however, here’s to my bitch starting her dream career.”
the next few days blew by in a blur as jocelyn and i finished packing everything i wanted to take. she was going to help take my stuff from boston to cambridge. the eight hour drive was going to be brutal, but it was completely doable, especially know that she’d be along the way. instead of driving sixteen hours total, she was going to spend the first night with me, she also wanted to scope out my dorm mate to make sure they’re not a total freak.
“i can’t believe i leave tomorrow.” i sigh, resting my head on jocelyn’s shoulder, the two of sitting on our balcony while she puffed her joint. jocelyn stifles a laugh before straightening out her expression, and turning to me.
“your mom would be so proud of you.” she says, her face blank as the absurd comment leaves her mouth.
“as fucking if.” i snort, rolling my eyes, taking the joint from her fingers, taking a small hit as she laughs.
“she’d probably ask why it took so long to get a response and then tell you that you didn’t try hard enough and that your acceptance letter was a pity letter.”
“probably.” i whisper, handing the joint back to her as i watch the setting sun, feeling a strong tinge of hurt swelling in my chest at the mention of my mom.
her and i never really had a steady relationship, when i was younger she was never really around, she was a big part of the film industry, quite the requested screenwriter, and was always in high demand which meant she didn’t take time to nurture me.
when she was alive and around more during my high school days after she was forced to retire from the spotlight due to her cancer, she was constantly berating me, the high ninety grades and constant participation in local theatre was never good enough. she always said i wasn’t shooting high enough. but she fell deathly ill my senior year, and that was a rough patch for us. i had snapped and told her that i hope she regrets the way she’s treated my entire life, and that i won’t be found at her deathbed. but when that time came, i was the first one to hold her hand and tell her i love her, but the reply never came from her, she just stared at the wall blankly until her boyfriend showed up and then suddenly she was lively as she could be while dying.
but i’ve moved on from that year, and it took a long time and shit ton of therapy to realize that i was never going to be the daughter she wanted, but my dad and my step-mother, melissa, have been as supportive as they could. they’ve been with melissa’s mom in maine for the last two months, helping her with everything after her husband’s passing.
i sigh again as i look at jocelyn, leaning my head back on her shoulder.
“we should probably head back to bed, we’ve got a long ass drive tomorrow.”
“yeah, wanna eat some ice cream first?”
“sure.”
after our ice cream, we finally crashed, both of us only getting about four hours of sleep after having to wake up at nearly six in the morning. we quickly got dressed, and grabbing the last few bags and boxes that needed to be packed into the car before leaving to grab food and drinks. after that, we finally started on our way to cambridge.
the drive was full of numerous stops, causing to get at the dorms around four in the afternoon.
“alright you stay with the cars while i go to the admissions centre and grab my key and i’ll go unlock the door and then we can start.” i hum in joce’s direction through her open window, grabbing my bag off the front passenger’s seat while jocelyn nods, climbing out, and stretching.
“i hope you get a hot roommate, you need a boyfriend.” she calls out, rolling my eyes, and flipping her off.
“i’m walking away i cant hear you!” i call back, following the signs that direct me toward to admissions office, as i enter i nervously approach the lady at the front.
“hi i’m here to pick up my dorm keys, room 496, y/n l/n.”
“here you go! so you’ll want to turn right, then take two lefts and follow the numbered plaques on the wall to the co-ed section of the dorms! and lastly, welcome to harvard!” the older woman chirps, flashing a warm smile that eases my nerves just the tiniest bit as i begin following the directions that she had called out.
as i reach my door, i fish the key from my pocket, quickly shoving it into the keyhole, wanting to get into my dorm as quick as possible. as i’m about to turn the knob, someone clear their throat from behind me, causing me to turn around. and once i meet the eyes of the person standing behind me, i immediately wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
“what the fuck are you doing here?”
“this is my dorm?” he coughs, making my skin crawl at the idea of sharing a dorm for a year with the one person that i genuinely wish didn’t exist in my life.
“there’s no way in hell i’m sharing a dorm with you, matt.”
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Can you make a Sturniolo sister thing where she gets her first period for the first time and the boys think she’s dying? I think it would be so funny.😭😭🤣

First Period
Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets (SLS is 12 and the triplets are 16)
warnings: blood, period stuff, all fluff
summary: SLS gets her first period, and her brothers have no idea what to do.
unedited
SLS’s POV
My stomach had felt like I ran a mile all day. But it was finally time to go home, and I was in the back seat with Nick, while Matt was driving, and Chris was next to him in the passenger seat, playing our car playlist through the AUX.
We finally arrived home and I was the first out of the car, trying to get inside so I could go take an Advil for my stomachache. My mom and dad weren’t home yet so I had to wait for Matt to get out and give me the Keys.
“Oh my god.” I hear Nick say from the back of the car. I walk back to see what was the matter.
I look into the car only to see a little puddle of blood, right where I was sitting. I turn around and Nick gasps.
“oh my god this is not happening right now!” I say snatches by the keys from Matt, who was staring at me in shock, just like Chris and Nick.
I run to unlock the house, then bolt to the closest bathroom and lock the door.
I’ve only ever heard about period. Besides reading the American Girl doll book on becoming a teen, I had no idea what to do.
I decided to just wait in the bathroom till mom comes home.
Chris’s POV
“oh shit oh shit oh shit! What the fuck do we do?!” I say frantically, looking back and fourth between Nick and Matt.
“I don’t fucking know, is she gunna die?” Matt breaths back, still staring at the blood in shock.
“Shut the fuck up I’m calling mom!” Nick scolds us, as he hold his phone up in speaker phone.
“hello?” I hear my moms voice from Nick’s phone.
“MOM SLS/N IS BLEEDING FROM HER FUCKING ASS I THINK SHES GUNNA DIE WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO?!?” I yell, panicking, before Nick could even say a word.
To our surprise, our mom just laughs.
“Mom! This is not funny! We’re not filming we are being serious. I can send you a pick right now there’s fucking blood on the seat!” Nick yells into the phone, panicking just as much as the rest of us.
“Honey, SLS/N will s fine! She got her period that’s all.” She said, explaining why she was laughing.
We all looked at each other confused, until Matt whipped his phone out and began typing fast. He scrolled for a couple seconds, read, then looked up with wide eyes. He read it aloud.
-
“so do you understand now?” My mom asked through the phone. We were no longer panicking, but we still were a little put off still.
“Alright boys, I need to get back to work. I love you and I’ll be home soon. Oh! Go under my bathroom sink and there should be a fresh box of pads. Bring those to SLS/N for me.” I love you!”
“love you.” We all said in unison, then Nick hung up the phone.
SLS’s POV
I’ve been in here for about 30 minutes. I was so embarrassed that that happens in front of my brothers. They’re probably freaking out and calling 911. I know I should go out there and tell them I’m okay, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.
Then there was a knock in the bathroom door.
“hey SLS/N. We called mom and we know what happening.” Nick’s voice said.
“okay.” I said, awkwardly, not knowing how to respond.
“mom had a box of pads and I brought you some new clothes.” He said. I sighed in relief and opened the door.
“thanks.” I said, looking down as I took the clothes and pads from him.
“we’ll be on the couch when your done.” He said, giving me a soft smile. I nod and close the door, changing into a pair of my sweatpants and one of Chris’s hoodies.
-
I walk out of the bathroom, feeling fresh after changing out of my bloody clothes. I walk into the living room where my brothers are. They were watching a show.
“c’mere kiddo.” Chris says, breaking the awkward silence. I walk over and snuggle into him. He rubs my back while Matt grabs a blanket and covers me, then sits next to me and brings my legs into his lap.
“sorry for going crazy on ya kid, we had no idea what the fuck was going on.” Chris says, to which we all laugh, snuggle up, and watch our show together.
I hope this is what u were along for! ❤️
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#matthew sturniolo
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can i request a fic? seducing innocent sunoo smut fem reader please
ofc you can. requests are always open with me <3 thankyou anon! i hope you’d like this hahshahsjs // ps. i really enjoyed writing this. im sorry it took so long im currently having a vacation kahshahs.
“IM ALL YOURS ! ” innocent stuco president sunoo x stuco vice president fem reader.
cw : friends to lovers (i got carried away lol this is so good), SMUT, suggestive, making out, marking, reader seducing sunoo and him being desperate, poor sunoo lol, grinding, reader’s “just the tip” agenda and oh no it failed lmao. reader cursing.
“do you know how to kiss?” you confidently asked. sunoo, your student council president bestfriend looked up and met your eyes... your eyes that is obviously scanning his lips. “no i dont, why would you ask that?” he responded before going back to his laptop’s screen. “and why do you even have time to think of that? we’re literally rushing files” you shrugged and tapped your pen on your desk, trying to get sunoo’s attention more knowing he hates when you’re making those noises everytime he’s working as a “stuco president”
and ofcourse, you did gain his attention. sunoo quickly looked at you with his most fox-like stare ever and you immediately bursted out laughing. “what’s wrong, noo? you look so intense” you joked. sunoo brushed his hair back and exhaled, “what’s wrong? you seem out of it today. you’re usually the one rushing through files but now you seem like you don’t care at all” sunoo was looking straight at your eyes to find answers on his own, but it only showed how naughty you’re being.
“well, tbh im not really in the mood to do all this. we’re at my room, what do you expect? ofcourse i’d feel sleepy and all that stuff” you excused. sunoo brushed his hair back once again, “but we’ve always done stuco duties here? what’s up with you?” he irritatedly said. a smirk crept up your lips and leaned forward on the table.
“hmmm, then what do you say about chilling with me for the mean time? i’ll do all this in an instant tonight.” you suggested. safe to say you saw a glimpse of spark pass through sunoo’s eyes. well, if there’s one person who feels really tired inside your room, its most probably sunoo. “come on pres, aren’t you tired? you’ve been working so hard slack it off” you insisted as you stood up infront of sunoo, with your hands placed around your hips. “are you sure you can finish all this tonight?” he looks at you under his lashes, you could only smile and nod. “come on, noo!” sunoo sighed for the last time before shutting both yours and his laptops down. you smiled and pulled him up and immediately and jokingly pushed him on your bed. not that he minded tho, you’ve always done unquestionable things whenever you feel goofy or excited.
“hmm? what should i play?” you mumble as you scan through your spotify playlist. sunoo only watches as he finds his fingers trailing his hair again. he doesn’t know but he just think it calms him down whenever he does the action. after doing so, he laid his head back and this is what he hates the most inside your room.. your pillows. it feels so soft and it smells so much like you, it doesn’t help that he really finds your smell attractive.
“what’s your perfume? i really like the smell” you turned your head back at sunoo only to find his eyes closed shut. you smiled and started walking up to him as soon as you played the song you’ve been meaning to play since the moment sunoo came inside your room ...or even since last night when you kept on thinking about how to seduce your bestfriend.
song recommendation : click
“hmm? you wanna smell?” you teased and jumped on the bed. sunoo hissed when your bed jiggled, “why are you so excited today?” he asked. you only giggled and placed your head under your pillow. as silence filled your room, he can’t help but watch your room closely. he’d been here a dozen times but this is probably the first time he noticed how your room looks very minimalistic. sunoo kept looking around until his eyes noticed your ass. he was laying against his back and you were laying against your front, giving him the most pretty view of it. a smirk unknowingly crept up your lips when you felt a hand putting a blanket over your waist, it just gave you a hundred more reasons to continue seducing sunoo.
you turned around and sunoo met your eyes. “what?” he asked and its now your turn to hiss. “vampires, real or myth?” you asked. sunoo’s eyebrows forrowed and he tried hard to keep his laugh to himself, “tell me you’re using tiktok way too much without telling me you’re using tiktok way too much” he ended up laughing after that.
as sunoo kept on throwing his head back due to laughing so much, you sat up and started unbottoning your blouse. halfway through it, you definitely gained his attention as he stopped laughing and immediately covered his eyes when he realized you’re being serious with taking it off. “what the hell are you doing?” he questions, panicking. you on the other hand feels enjoyment with how he’s reacting. “come on, sun.. vampires, real or myth?”
“you’re still going on for that?!” he answers, with his big hands still covering his face. sunoo’s cheeks are bright flushed as well as his ears, making you chuckle and he only let out a snicker. “didn’t you say you love watching twilight? you even said its not rated 18 so why are you acting like this? im only asking about vampires...” you say, trying to sound innocent. “but you’re stripping!”
sunoo heard the loudest silence he could ever hear, thus he slowly slid his fingers away from his eyes. he saw you sitting infront of him with your blouse opened but it didn’t reveal anything from you. but lets say, the sudden drop of sunoo’s intense shoulder didn’t go unnoticed by you. “w- what are you doing?” he stutters. you shrugged and gave him the best view of your neck. “you told me i smell nice. come, smell me.” you answers. sunoo shaked his head in confusion, “what? then why did you have to even undo your blouse and ask me if vampires are-”
“id appreciate if you’d keep your pretty mouth shut, pres” you said before shutting sunoo off by pulling his face close to your neck. sunoo felt his lips subtly touch your neck at the sudden action, and he felt amazingly good the moment your perfume tickled his nose. “wow, you smell really good” sunoo compliments as he snuggles more closely to your neck. it felt like he suddenly forgot the distance or border you guys should have.
sunoo felt butterflies errupt inside his stomach when he felt your fingers playing with his hair. “your hair smells good sun” he looked up and stared right in your eyes. “you smell so good” he compliments back. he doesn’t care if he’d sound like a robot in repeat, there’s this warm fuzzy feelings errupting inside him and he can’t seem to handle it well.
silence filled the room once again, both you and sunoo realizing the position you’re currently in. you, sitting straight up while sunoo’s infront looking up at you, giving you the perfect and most ethereal view of his long black lashes, brown honey fox-like eyes, and plump lips. not to mention he has the habit of pouting his lips thus it made his lips look more inviting. “you really are a pretty one, aren’t you?” sunoo smiled as he feels the warmth of your fingers trailing on his neck, “your pretty boy” he says before closing his eyes to meet your lips.
sunoo felt awkward and shy because of how much the realization that he doesn’t know how to kiss slapped him, but you already has your lips on his and he doesn’t want to waste this moment just to say his concerns. you, on the other hand, felt sunoo stiffened under your touch and the kiss feels incredibly wrong. sunoo not only seem clueless with what he’s doing but he also seem like he’s holding himself back way too much, so you gripped his neck tighter and pulled him closer to you. he then felt your hand moving upwards through his hair and felt how you guided his head to the side.
you broke the kiss and the sound of his lips against you made you feel hotter than ever. you two haven’t maked out perfectly yet but sunoo’s lips already looks so red, wet, and puffy. “damn fuck your lips looks so good” you said, getting distracted at the sight. sunoo smiled and his whiskers appeared. “and we have to use that to perfect use, okay?” you raised a brow and he nodded. sunoo’s cheeks later on was filled with a bright red tint.
“it seems like you’re holding yourself way too much, that’s why the kiss isn’t moving pace at all. what’s holding you back?” you honestly questions, sunoo brushed his hair back in shyness and avoided eye contact. “this is the first time i’ve kissed someone, i don’t know what to do and what to not” he answers shyly. you then smiled and held his neck once again, making sunoo look at your eyes. “don’t hold back sun, okay? its okay, i’ll guide you”
you didn’t waste any second as you found yourself smashing his lips on yours the moment he nodded. you didn’t hold back and gave the best make out you could ever give, and it did help sunoo gain confidence as he started swirling his tongue inside your mouth. “enjoying?” you tease and sunoo only humms in response while watching you with half-lidded eyes bitting his bottom lip.
sunoo leaned in desperately and hurriedly captures your lips and this time, he does not only humms but also moans in the kiss. he feels shy and embarrassed but he can’t stop himself from letting all the lewd noises out, not when you’re giving him so much love and attention. “you’re so cute~” he whines at your sudden compliment. he can’t understand but he feels so small and fragile and he totally likes it. sunoo gave the hottest moan when he felt your lips sucking on his skin, there’s this sting of pain coming from it, but the sound of your lips plopping against his neck gave him so much wetness under his pants.
when he can’t handle it anymore, he found his hand pulling you close to his and licked your earlobes. he kept on panting and the hotness of his breath made your skin shiver. “what’s happening, sun?” you asked when you noticed how he kept on whining. and he himself can’t answer that cause even him doesn’t know why he keeps squirming.
with both of your lips swollen from the previous act of intimacy and some evident light red marks on his skin, sunoo muttered, “v- vampires... real” while eyeing your slightly exposed chest. you forrowed your eyebrows and was about to burst out laughing when sunoo jumped making you lay your back down as he hovers on top of you, and with his lips dangerously close to your collarbones. “i don’t know how to do this” he said, looking down at you while breathing heavily, “but i want to suck your skin so bad”
a success smirk laced through your face. sunoo breathes heavily once again, panting while basically hovering above you. he looks like he’s about to cry out of frustration and desperation, so you slowly slid your fingers around the back of his neck and guided him to your sweet spot. “place your lips on my skin, kiss it like how you did earlier, sip it then bite it playfully, not much but enough to leave redness.” you instruct. sunoo kept whining above you and its giving you more ego boost. “come on, sun.. do it”
a moan slip pass your mouth the moment sunoo attached his lip on your skin. it was messy and sloppy, sunoo kept on whining as he grinds himself down on you while he bites and suck on your skin. “i can’t do this anymore, why is this so good?” he said, shaking. you opened your eyes and watched how sunoo squirms above you. he kept bucking his hips forward to get some friction to somehow make him feel good. “ah i can’t do this i can’t do this i can’t do this” he squirms. you then held sunoo’s waist to help him get a steady pace.
even tho you did seduce sunoo, you never thought it’d reach this level. you never thought you’d watch as he shakes above you, as he desperately grinds himself for his own ease, as he kept whining and whining looking all fragile and vulnerable.. sunoo has never acted this way, and getting to see this new side of him, your shoulders’s definitely up high.
“i- i want to do it” you heard sunoo suddenly mumbles. you raised your eyebrow while still helping him grind above you, “i.. i really want to do i want to do it i want to do it... i want to do it” he repeatedly whines. your stomach tightened at the sight infront of you. you just made the most reserved student council president a big wreck of a mess. after the realization, you held sunoo’s hips tighter and used it to support yourself to get up. sunoo kind of stopped grinding himself and watched you sit up while still having him on your lap. he definitely looks like a baby you forever want to tease and take care of.
sunoo closed his eyes and you left a peck near his temples, “you really want to?” you questions and he nodded way too fast. you chuckled and nodded back. “please teach me how.. i don’t know what to do and i want you to feel-” he stopped midway and avoided your gaze. “hmm? feel?” you tease. “sun?” you call. he sighed and said, “feel good. i want to make you feel good”
“okay, but you’d listen well, okay?”
you’re now laying on your back with sunoo standing on the edge of your bed, holding both of your thighs wide open. “please rub your tip along my folds, sun. you can spread my wetness so it wouldn’t be too hard for you to enter” you instruct. sunoo breathed and started rubbing his tip to your folds.
moans from you and sunoo enveloped your room. thank goodness no one’s home, cause whoever may walk pass your room would immediately know what kind of “stuco studies” you and sunoo had been doing for the pass hours. “t- this feels so good, what am i going to do next?” he said, shakiness laced through his sentences. “push your tip in” you mumbled under your breath.
sunoo squirms once again when he felt his tip go in, he was never expecting having sex could feel this good. halfway through it, when he was about to push everything in, you held his hand and stopped him from moving. “don’t push everything in, just use your tip”
sunoo’s innocent when it comes to stuffs like these, he doesn’t know alot of things but he’s definitely not oblivious. he knows what you’re doing and he’s not one bit satisfied nor happy by it. “don’t do this to me” he pleaded. “yah don’t do this...” you giggled and slightly sat up, using your elbows to support yourself, “be a good boy and listen to me. use your tip only and nothing else” sunoo whined, but since he desperately needs some sort of friction and ease, he stood by doing what you instructed him to do. so he started going in and out with only his tip. it does makes him feel good and so are you, but it feels not enough for sunoo and he’s craving for more.
you bit your bottom lip to prevent a smile from forming on your lips. you have your eyes closed shut as sunoo’s desperate whiny moans rings through your ears. “please, please i can’t do this anymore” he pleaded once again, thrusting his hips slowly to prevent himself from going all in. “please, i really can’t do this anymore”
listening to sunoo’s whiny moans continued for some time, you disregarded his every pleads and only thought of your own enjoyment. you heard sunoo sighed deeply and before you know it, he’s now holding you on your hips tightly. sunoo pulled you closer to him and you were so startled by the sudden aggressive move he showed you had to actually open your eyes and look at him confusingly. “what the fuck are you doing sun-”
“please..” he breathes, “please let me have you first. you can do whatever you want after, im all yours..” was the last thing sunoo said before pushing everything in all at once and thrusting rougher than ever.
ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー。
taglist : @flowersforjongseong @sunoodunoo @sunoouz @sunttori @unh0ly-dr3am3r @bloei 🦋
© sunny fucks, 2022. not proofread.
#sunoo smut#kim sunoo smut#sunoo hard thoughts#sunoo hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#sunnyfucks#i really love this hahshshs
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