#this is still in the air but at least I do have a reason why I'd do it.
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Hearts Over Hierarchy
Loser!Ellie x Popular!Reader
Do opposites really attract?
Summery : When you run into a girl who rarely makes acknowledgment she even exists, there’s something that undoubtedly draws you to her..and a spark is created.
Warnings -> / Weed usage / Reader is confused about her feelings? / Ellie’s also confused about her feelings (ig?) / Just full loser Ellie / Really brief Skater!Ellie / eventual smut (probably) / fluff / tension / Little bits of smau / Toxic friendship / (Lmk if I missed anything else!)
WC: 4.8k (longest fic i’ve ever wrote!)
(Not proofread!)
DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸 - (takes like 2 seconds 🩷)
(Ellie)
The loud buzzing of Ellie’s alarm shoots her eyes open and her body halfway up. “F-fuck” She grumbles under her muffled voice. Running her right hand down her face.
Ellie grabs the alarm rested on her left bedside table and she’s finally met with the time 9:36am. “Oh fuck” Ellie says quickly stands up out of her single bed, planted in the corner of her single bedroom dorm. Classes start at 9:45. She has a total of 9 minutes to get dressed, leave her dorm, and run onto campus. Which has her leading to the fact there’s almost 0 fucking way she’s making it on time.
Since Ellie’s already up and out of her bed she runs to her dresser to throw on a pair of boxers and a sports bra which is almost instantly covered by “clean” sweat pants and a nike hoodie. It didn’t smell bad so it was fine!
4 minutes, it only took Ellie 4 minutes to get changed and grabbed her skateboard. She also glances over at the time as it now reads now reads 9:40. So this means her time isn’t “horrible” I mean getting ready in 4 minutes is sorta impressive, at least in her mind? Plus campus shouldn’t take that long, as long as she’s fast.
Ellie grabs her skateboard and leaves her dorm quickly running down the stairs, having basically 0 time to wait around and sit there like a duck for the elevator. And as soon as she’s met with concrete she’s off.
The reason why Ellie being late is such a fucking hassle is because she’s already been late a fair share of times building a reputation for it, when she walks into class and shit it doesn’t go without dirty looks. But it’s a new school year, so she’s tryna live by the corny ass saying “new year new me!” and actually not miss half the classes like last term.
(You)
You’re up early, 8:00 to be exact. You quietly leave your bedroom trying not to wake up the rest of your sorority sisters as you tiptoe through the halls. And just as you thought you were clear, a pair of blue eyes are met with yours.
Emily your best friend since freshman year. You two were like glue through high school, nothing could separate the two of you, sure you had fights and disagreements but nothing seemed like it could break the bond between you two..
As you meet her blue eyes you quickly notice her lips turning into a light smirk. “Why the fuck are you tiptoeing like we’re in a fucking Tom and Jerry episode?” You let out a pity laugh and smile “Oh ha ha…! Maybe because i’m nice and I didn’t wanna wake up all you guys?”
Emily smiles right back at you. “Why are you up so fucking early, thought your class started at 9:45?” You nod your head agreeing with her statement. “It does. I just wanted to be on top of it you know!” Emily shakes her head. “No I don’t fucking know? I don’t wake up a full hour and 45 minutes before my classes.”
You smile, you could ask her why she’s up but you already know her class starts at 8:30 (ew.) so going through more questions seems unethical. “Well!” You trail off then pick back up where you ended. “I need to have a shower sooo” Emily nods and goes back to her room “Yeah yeah!”
꧁✵★✵꧂
The steam fills your bathroom and the air is still warm from your lingering shower.
It was weird today. You don’t usually feel nervous for school, I mean you knew people, people knew you. There was literally nothing for you to feel even the slightest bit of tenseness. Yet it was still just there.?
Your just blaming it on basic nerves, you’re not really “excited” to get back into the grove of school, get a ton of work in before due dates which are are way to fucking fast. But either way you knew you had to suck it up so you pushed yourself out those doors and into your car.
Right on time 9:30. It should only take 10 minutes to drive onto campus and that leaves you with about 5 minutes before the lecture starts. At least that’s what you fucking planned.
But just to your luck. There was an incident, nothing serious. Just ending up backing up the roads. And any fucking other day you wouldn’t have really cared. But you really could not afford to be late on your first day back. You wanted to make sure you’re on top of everything, and the walk of shame into the classroom is probably one of the worst things person could every fucking experience.
Once you make it on campus you speed walk through the halls cutting through people just trying to get to your door. Then everything will be fine and normal, you won’t have to worry about how stup-
A hard thud goes straight into your back
You heard about 3 things fall flat on the ground none of the things being yours. And as shitty as it seems, you were genuinely considering walking away just to get to fucking class..
You’re not a complete dick and you were raised better. So this leads you to reluctantly turn around and your met with? Well you don’t exactly know, she looks familiar but maybe she’s a year younger so you don’t often see her. She has brunet- no, auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles that go all around her face. She looks familiar but you can’t put your finger on it.
You look down and notice a binder, a now slightly cracked phone and skateboard which finally you make the decision to crouch down. The auburn hair girl is mumbling a bunch of sorry’s “F-fuck that’s on me. I-i’m like super late? So I was looking down and sh-“ You cut her off and shake your head picking up her phone and binder as she picks up her skateboard. “You’re good..Fuck I’m late too.” You chuckle looking at her as you stand up, quickly handing her the items she dropped on the ground.
You give out your hand to shake “I’m-“ and as your about to say your name, you’re cut off by her voice “N-no I know you, you sat in front of me last term” You don’t know what really led you to say the next part but what else were you going to say?? You didn’t notice her once, lying seemed like a better approach. “Right! Um what was it…A- no H?” You notices how her eyebrows furrow, the fact you definitely don’t know her name is becoming apparent.
“I-uh Ellie” She shakes your hand.
“Yeah! I was getting there!” You smile looking back at her before talking again.
“We’re you?” She tilts her head talking in a tone laced with a joking sound..just from her demeanour alone you can tell she was kidding.
“I was..” You shift your gaze down to her lips then back up. You weren’t trying to be weird or anything, you just did it on instinct which now on the contrary seems a tad bit creepy since this is literally your first time even talking to her.
Once you meet her eyes again you nervously cleared your throat and starting talking once again. “Well what room are you!”
Ellie notices the quick change of subject and she nervously shakes her head “U-uhh fuck 217 I think…?” You nod and look at her “Fuck, okay shit me too?” Your voice stops then picks back up “Want to walk?”
Ellie perks up and nods. It kept playing in the back of her mind why the fuck you were talking to her. Ellie wasn’t popular, not your level of popularity. Everyone knew you. So the fact you were standing in front of her, talking to her. She was almost confused. Yet she wasn’t complaining..
It only took a few minutes before you reached the classroom door, as you check your phone you see you’re a bit late. Nothing to complain about, it’s only 9:47 so who cares..?
When opening the doors your eyes lock with the seats in the back left corner, there open, and no one is sitting in them. You look at Ellie who seems nervous.
Little do you know in her mind she’s wondering where the fuck she’s going to sit.
The only single seats are in the middle of like 5 fucking people.
Once you notices her eyes are scanning the room and her whole face is plastered with a nervous expression you nudge her lightly.
“Wanna sit over there” You point your finger and her eyes quickly follow it.
She seems confused. Like her brain just did a 360 but she stutters over her words when talking back to you. “Y-you wanna s-sit together?”
“Yeah?” You smile and let out a chuckle.
“R-right! Yeah- Yeah we can sit over there.” She smiles and nods looking at you.
As you sit down your phone buzzes in your left pocket not wasting much time to pull it out. There’s one message Emily. Asking if you made it okay and stuff. Which leads to a mini conversation.
You couldn’t help but feel almost icked out? Emily’s not usually rude so her response was weird, and out of character. You wanted to believe maybe she was making a statement or something but you replied regardless.
She was being so strange, like not her usual self. Which lead your eyebrows to furrow and you were abo-
“You okay?” Ellie’s voice says softly probably noticing the fact your eyebrows are furrowed and your face now showing clear signs of annoyance.
“O-oh yeah!” you reply now embarrassed as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “Just one of my friends, i’m good though!”
Ellie nods and smiles. “Okay, just wanted to make sure?”
You haven’t really met anyone like Ellie. I guess other then Emily? But it still took months to feel comfortable with her. With Ellie it seems almost easy? Like fast?
Your whole friend group is popular. Which wasn’t horrible? The benefits of being popular is nice? Sorta.. But unfortunately half of your “friend group” is fake.
Talking behind peoples back kinda fake.
You tried not to let it bug you though, you had people in your friend group you obviously loved, so you would just stick in that crowd.
But there was always some anxiety which came with it. Like you didn’t know if things you said would get passed around, so when talking to Ellie, knowing nothing had the chance of somehow going to anyone, else it was refreshing.
The class was finally fucking over and you packed up your laptop and papers.
As you were about to leave you said a quick bye to Ellie trying to be respectful. You didn’t wanna ask for her number because you didn’t want to come across as weird, you two just met? So that could wait?
As you turned around there was a quick “wait!” which was clearly from Ellie.
You just turned around trying to read her expression but as you were she cut off your train of thought. “C-can I uh get your number! I was thinking we could maybe study or something. This math s-shit is like kicking my ass” After her sentence there was a dry awkward chuckle. The fact you didn’t immediately respond worried her
Did she come off as weird?
To pushy?
You’re popular why the fuck-
“Yeah!” You smile walking back over to her.
“Are you busy right now? We can go back to my place and study if you want” You say not breaking eye contact.
Ellie quickly breaks the eye contact handing you her phone before she clears her throat. “W-no! no i’m not busy, right now is good actually” Her voice cracks in the middle of the sentence leading her to clear her throat once again.
You grab her slightly cracked phone and nod..
“K cool, it’s not a long drive and my cars out in the front lot.”
In a car
With you.
Great!
꧁✵★✵꧂
Saying the car ride is awkward is an understatement? Reason number one, you don’t know what to say because you literally just met Ellie.
I mean you’re alright on small talk but what the fuck do you say to someone you met a solid 2 hours ago?
And on the other hand Ellie is Ellie.
She can’t pick up on small talk for the life of her. So when you finally speak it almost feels like a blessing and a curse.
“Sorry about you phone?” You say, both hands still on the steering wheel as you drive.
“Huh?” Fuck this is awkward.
“Your phone, it’s cracked. Sorry?” You say a smile cracking.
“I ran head first into your bag I’m pretty sure that’s on me” Ellie chuckles looking at you as you drive.
“I guess, but maybe if I was walking faster it wouldn’t have happened!” You say glancing over at her before you turn your eyes back to the road.
Ellie’s face turns a light pink as soon as you made split eye contact with her. She’s silently now thanking ever fucking god in the universe that you turned your head before you could notice.
“Maybe but I think that was a sign I shouldn’t walk with my head down” Ellie let’s out a slight laugh.
The silence falls once again neither of you knowing what to says.
“D-“
“Sor-“
Both of speak at the same time a dry chuckle coming from both your lips.
“You go.” Ellie says nodding.
“I was just going to say sorry for not noticing you?” You say clearing your throat anxiously.
“What do you mean?” Ellie says tilting her head still looking at your side profile.
“Like- I sat in front of you for months you know?.. just the fact I didn’t noticed you makes me feel like an egotistical prick?” You say rubbing the back of your neck with your left hand.
Ellie shakes her head at your response. “No! Fuck I barley talked, trust me, you not noticing doesn’t make me have hard feelings” Ellie says quickly, she doesn’t want you to feel guilty for anything.
You just smile at her response and nod. “What we’re you going to say?” She quickly talks “Just gonna ask do you get what the fuck is going on in class”
You quickly laugh and shake your head “Fuck no! I’m actually so ass at math your gonna have to walk me through it.” Ellie smiles and nods. “What makes you think i’m gonna be good at it!” She says with a chuckle.
“Well you have to be good at it because we’re official study partners!” You say before nodding your head. “Official??” Ellie smiles
“Oh yeah, official” You nod and continue nervously. “We’re uh here!” You park the car in front of your sorority.
“I never been to a fucking sorority” Ellie says getting out of the car with her backpack in hand. “No?” You say looking at her. “Nah” She shakes her head “They feel cult-ish?” She laughs causing you to smile and look at her “So you’re joining my cult then?”
“Guess soo” She drags out her ‘so’ dramatically before walking to the two big white doors which leads into the sorority house.
You and Ellie studied for a few hours. Looking outside the sky was now dark. Rather then the bright blue it shined before.
You guys studying was basically just an excuse to talk, you got to know a lot about each other. Ellie opened up to you, you opened up to her.
You haven’t ever had a friendship where you got so comfortable so fast. It’s like the fact you guys met a solid few hours ago, it was completely disregarded. It’s like you connected so fucking fast.
You learned Ellie had two close friends Dina and Jesse. They didn’t go to the same school as you and her, instead they went to one about 30 minutes out. You “learned” she’s painfully shy, which you already got the message as soon as she ran into you.
She let it slip she actually debated talking to you last term but you seemed extremely intimidating which you laughed at. But she was standing her ground, saying like you gave off a bit of scary vibes.
“Okay scary?” You replied laughing
“Scary!” She says looking at you. Both of your guys studying papers are far from filled out, almost completely empty. But to be fair that’s the last thing on your mind.
“I need one fucking example from when I was being ‘scary’” You say defensively looking at her. The two of you are crisscrossed on your queen bed a bit to close considering how much space the both of you had. Both of your knees touching.
“K well- I don’t have a fucking time list of all the times I thought you seemed scary!” Ellie says shaking her head looking at you.
Your hand instinctively falls on her knee “I’m asking for ONE example!” You made sure to emphasize the word one. To point out it was really fucking easy.
Ellie’s whole face heats up and she feels like her body’s on fire causing her to stutter over almost ever other word “I-I d-don’t know l-like one t-time I heard you talking about h-how you were ‘gonna murder him’” She says chuckling to mask the nervousness that’s coursing through her veins.
You try to recall when you said this, it suddenly clicking “Okay wait! No there’s context!” You chuckle and now both of you are closer. It’s like each time a sentence is said, you’re moving further in.
“What fucking context could there be!” Ellie spits out laughing, which causes you to laugh harder.
“I was talking about some dick who used one of my friends!” You laugh your head falling onto Ellie’s shoulder.
“I guess that’s fair?” Ellie’s voice gets quieter. You can her heart beat which to say it’s fast. That’s would be an understatement.
You pull your head off her shoulder and look at her. Her face is pretty pink and you feel like you can ever little detail that revolves around her face. One thing about seeing ever detail, it had a result of your faces being mere inches from each others.
You don’t even know what the fuck led you to do this but you slowly guided your left hand to cuff Ellie’s cheek which now has the both of you to instinctively lean in.
Ellie does the same, manly following your lead as her hand also goes onto your cheek and now your noses brush against each other.
And just as your lips were about to touch a knock hits right against your door.
You and Ellie both quickly flinch back clearing your throat nervously.
You get up faster then her and the person behind the door is no other then Emily. You hadn’t texted her since the whole weird ass messages she sent a few hours ago.
Ellie’s thoughts are now going all over the place. Because you two almost just kissed, a knock breaks it up..and now there’s a girl who in her mind, is way better looking!
Ellie doesn’t wanna think it, but the fact you might have a girlfriend is lurking in the back of her mind. She wouldn’t be surprised to say the least.
“Hey” Emily says eyeing Ellie who is now putting her papers back into her backpack nervously, her hands fumbling over each sheet..
“Hi..?” You say looking at Emily. She’s eyeing Ellie with a look you haven’t noticed before. And as you were going to say something along the lines of “Do you need something” but Emily’s voice talks over your thoughts.
“Can we talk” She says now meeting your eyes.
“I mean I have someone ove-“ But before you can finish your sentence Ellie intervenes. “It’s- It’s fine i’m heading out anyway. You know it’s dark..? So?”
“I- uh, alright. You want me to drive you?” You say looking at Ellie which she almost instantly shakes her head “I’m not tryna be a burden i’ll just skate back, my dorms on campus…so i’ll uh, i’ll be chill..” Ellie says grabbing her skateboard which was planted in your room. Right after Ellie grabs her skateboard she already is almost out of the door. But you quickly talk.
“Just text me when you get to your dorm, so I know you got back safe and shit.” You say softly.
And just like that she’s gone, and your standing awkwardly in a room with Emily. When the front door finally shuts she got the sudden urge to talk. “Ellie?”
You nod confused. “Uh- yeah..? We were just studying…”
Emily nods looking at you. “Why though?”
“Sorry..?” You say now even more confused then you were previously.
“Like why hang out with her?” Emily says looking at you.
You think she’s joking so you laugh sarcastically “Fuck off?”
“I’m being for real, Williams, she’s like weird dude... That’s literally all anyone talked about when she was in my class.” Emily now chuckles and you shake your head.
“She’s not even weird?” You say defensively. “Have you talked to her?”
Emily shakes her head fast “I don’t wanna fucking talk to her?? Like I said she’s weird.”
You’ve never seen Emily act so blatantly rude, like she had her own opinions but she knew whether or not she should announce them. Plus! She’s never even met Ellie yet she’s judging her so easily with no second thought. You tried to push it behind you, trying to end the conversation with a quick “I gotta go to bed so. We can talk later.”
Emily scoffs “Great! Now you’re fucking being weird!”
“Im not even being weird! You’re just being rude, i’m not gonna listen you talk shit about someone you haven’t even had a conversation with!”
Emily just shakes her head “I’m hardly talking shit shit. I’m just saying what I heard, fuck.” The fact she’s trying to justify her shitty behaviour and actions just makes you more annoyed.
“K great talk Emily. I gotta get sleep” You say before shutting the door with a hard slam as Emily gets out of your room.
It’s been a few weeks since that whole situation, Emily’s been okay? She apologized and shit but everything is still a bit tense?.. Like she lets out mini sighs when you say your going to hang out with Ellie.
You assumed this was because maybe she felt left out, but every time you even attempted to ask her she always shook her head and replied with “Eh sorta busy with homework”
So you dropped in, she was clearly going through some weird ass phase with you new friendship and you just wanted her to push through with it. You didn’t feel like guiding Emily through it all.
And then on the other hand
Ellie
neither of you mentioned what happened in your room that night, or what almost happened? It wasn’t relevant, some friends almost kiss! You two almost kissed…? And it was nothing important.
Not something to jeopardize your new friendship. So you dropped it. And you internally prayed she would too.
Ellie on the other hand. She was thinking about the moment constantly, like it was a virus infiltrating every single free fucking thought she had. She doesn’t know if the blue eyed girl was your girlfriend, but at the end of the day she didn’t wanna push the subject. You hadn’t talked about it so it wasn’t something she was willing to bring up. Seemed better to drop it!
And here you are, laying down on your bed extremely bored with nothing to fucking do. Your mind was just wondering, thinking about class, school, Elli-
There’s buzzing coming from your bedside table and you quickly grab you phone.
Ellie.
You laughed at your phone. Ellie’s jokes were actually so bad it made them funny. You kept texting her no plan of stopping, but then she tells you she has a little something!
You smile at her messages quickly following up by closing your phone. You didn’t waste time to grab you car keys quickly leaving your sorority house.
꧁✵★✵꧂
The car ride wasn’t all that bad, it was nice knowing that you’ll get to be with Ellie again. Plus it was literally only 10 minutes so when you get there you quickly park and rush to the campus dorms.
As you go into the building you take the left to the elevators, shortly entering before you click floor 2.
As it stops and the doors open and you lead yourself to Ellie’s dorm which you’ve now been in a few times.
After knocking it literally doesn’t take long before she answers..her hairs messy, a few strands down her face and she gives you a quick smile. One thing you instantly noticed was the strong scent of weed that exits her room. “You’ve been busy” you say sarcastically giving her a quick smile.
Her eyes are red and she’s clearly faded. “Soooo busy!” She says sarcastically before it’s followed by yet another smile.
You go into her room and sit on her little single bed that’s planted right in the corner of her bedroom.
She passes you an already lit joint which you take a drag from.
“I wanna ask you something?” Ellie says as she takes the joint back.
You nod letting out a short “hm?”
“You obviously don’t have to say yes” she starts dragging her words a mix of nervousness and being high.
“Okay..?” You say nodding, you don’t know what she’s gonna ask but either way you’re nervous.
“Jesse and Dina, they rent cabin every year. And like my not tryna really third wheel so I was wondering…if maybe like-?” Ellie says shifting her gaze down into her lap.
“When is it?” You ask looking at her.
Ellie’s almost surprised you didn’t immediately turn it down so she quickly clears her throat. “Fuck sorry- It’s in a week. You don’t have to com-“
“Yeah I’ll come?” You say, the high now finally clicking in. Ellie’s heart is skipping right now but she quickly pushes it down.
You two are fucking friends. Just friends.
“Sick. O-okay cool. I’ll just like text you everything you’ll need and shit. And it’s like an hour drive so me, you, Jesse and Dina can all just like fucking drive together.”
“Okay cool!” You smile.
You and Ellie. Are going to a cabin together.
Nothing to be nervous about…!
———————————————————
A/N -> Hii! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I already have a full plot layout for the second one.
This might only be two parts simply because I might be able to fit everything I want with enough detail in just a singular part.
I plan on adding some angst in the next chapter ☹️ (so ig be ready for that!)
I also wanna really emphasize Emily is not homophobic! 😭
I was reading some of this chapter and it sorta seemed implied she was at least a little homophobic, calling Ellie “Weird” and shit, but it’s not because Ellie gay! I’m pretty sure most people might be able to clue on why she’s not to fond of Reader and Ellie’s ‘friendship’ but that’ll be for the next chapter.
I hope you enjoyed!
Taglist : @bready101 @onlinelesbo @amberputh @seraphicsentences @a-little-bit-of-everybody @zoehxnji @cyb3rd0nguh @graviewaviee
#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#lgbtq#loser!ellie#the last of us#the last of us two#cute#wlw#wlwpost#ellie x y/n#loser ellie#elliewilliams#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#lesbian#ellie x you#ellie smut#lesbian post#reblog#like
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Late Night Talks
You can't seem to get a peaceful night's rest, and neither can he.
Yuta Okkotsu x Fem! reader.
A lil drabble I made, basically for those who feel absoloutely guttered after a long day. L/N is your last name! have fun lovelies and DON'T sleep late!
This isn’t normal. None of this should be normalised to a teenage girl, a child who eliminates curses up until the sun rises up. But there are some who are considered gifted. Blessed to be stronger by others, and at all cost protect the weak. Though those rules are unwritten, it should be common knowledge by everyone.
I open the door to the dorms, my breath heavy as I fight the urge to close my eyes. A full week of enduring the need to faint is what I have overcome, and it may as well become part of my life by now. They say it is all well, the safety of others- of the weak, ensured.
The strong shielding the weak.
I lazily take off my combat boots, not caring what noise I may make at this time of night as I let my back collapse onto the sofa. I feel my sight become a blur, the taste and smell of curses still lingering in the air, the face of a helpless man screaming and kicking whilst making it harder to exorcise the damned cursed spirit.
To hell with the weak.
My right arm lifts up to cover my eyes, exhaling through my nose as I feel myself getting lightheaded,
“I feel like dying today…”
I mutter, to absoloutely no one. Besides, who in god's name would still be up by this hour?
“L/N-san?"
For some reason, something in me warms up just by hearing the familiar voice. I pry my hand away slightly, only to be met by a cursed boy’s dark silhouette in the dimly lit living room we both inhabit. His head peeked out from above the couch, leaning against the back of it while he looked down at me.
“Yuta…” I couldn’t fight the small smile forming onto my face, a slight bit surprised that I was caught off guard and couldn’t sense his presence.
“What… Why are you still awake?”
"I should be the one to ask you that."
I sit up slightly, propping myself up onto my elbows as I attempt to show a non exhausted grin, not like he could actually see it in such darkness.
“I just finished a mission… took longer than expected.”
He doesn’t at all seem satisfied with my answer. The change in atmosphere and posture could tell it all,
“Ah… alright then.”
“You don’t seem content with my answer, pretty boy.”
And he answers a beat later,
“You’re lying. Your missions usually take way longer than this.”
Even without seeing him clearly, the frown on his face was as bright as the sun. Ever since our shared conversation in the sushi restaurant, Yuta and I have been conversing more and more frequently without experiencing an awkward silence.
So attentive, I let a chuckle slip past my lips. The thought of having someone who could actually be awake enough to hear me come through the door is actually frightening. Having someone else who also has a messed up sleep schedule, or mind, accompanying me in the lonely night.
I gave into a smile, “You were always awake, weren’t you?”
A question that needed no answering to, making Yuta shake his head slightly as he walked to turn on the kitchen light instead.
“I never sleep- well at least I try not to…” his voice trails off, a yawn overcoming him as I sit up to get a better view of Yuta.
The way his eyes were begging to be closed shut, his slouched back and heavy eye bags were enough to make me feel slight pity. For a boy who claims to never sleep, he’s done particularly well in the art of combat. His passion, his determination, his love towards her.
I pursed my lips at the thought of Rika, “Do you never try to talk to… you know… Rika?”
A laughable question it might be, humorous to Yuta probably as I expected him to topple over laughing. But then again, it’s Yuta. The depressed cursed teenage boy I saved. The cursed boy merely smiles, holding his mug in one hand as he looks over to me.
“Not ever since being haunted by her face in my dreams, no.”
I experienced it too, is what I wanted to say. Although nothing leaves my mouth, I give an understanding nod instead. After realising that the past would always chase me till my sleep, I was slightly grateful for the stockpile of missions that made me occupied. I stopped consulting with Shoko as it proved to be of no help.
“Sometimes when I do see a glimpse of the past Rika… I feel sick to my stomach.”
I know the feeling.
“Knowing that I couldn’t even do anything made me feel useless… even until now.”
I’ve always felt that way.
“Sometimes I feel that Gojo-sensei was right… love is a twisted curse.”
Love is for the weak.
I let out a hum, eyes casted down to instead look at my nails and speak whatever comes to my head, “He told me the same thing. But I thought it was so I would steer away from dating anyone.”
And for a moment, I catch a glimpse of Yuta’s sheepish look.
“You-you’ve never… had a lover?” he questions me, his cheeks flaring up into a vibrant pink while avoiding any form of eye contact. He sounds lost, astounded, even. It’s as if the facts I conveyed to him were all white lies.
“Never really thought of having one, really. I admit that the topic of romance does hang higher in the books I read, but I’ve never experienced what it’s like to be loved romantically by someone.”
My explanation seemed to bring Yuta some courage to at least look me in the eye, his lips slightly parted at the information he received. He seems to stay like that for a moment, the same startled look looming on his features.
I take notes on his face features, softly lit up by the light shining right above the kitchen counter behind him. The colour on his face seemed to return after enrolling in Jujutsu High for a while, and he doesn’t look as skinny and bony as he did. His hair was growing a tad bit longer, more fluffy but never kept neat. My gaze goes down to his lips, his slightly chapped, parted lips.
I feel myself getting warmer by the second, my heart thumping so loud I can almost throw it up. He looks at me, with such eyes that cloud so much thought. And I absolutely feel myself getting weaker just by this, and I absolutely hate it.
I return my gaze to his eyes, “Too shocked to speak?”
Yuta flinches by the sound of my voice, almost as if he was in a haze whilst looking over at me. He then shakes his head, watching his unkept raven hair move as a blush rises to his ears. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes not meeting mine as I can barely make out his muffled voice,
“You’re just… too pretty
#jujustu kaisen#yuta okkotsu#yuta x reader#yuuta x reader#okkotsu yuuta#jjk yuuta#jjk#jjk x reader#fluff#jjk fluff
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Request (If I haven't sent this one): How about Makoto and Sakura from Street Fighter having a rival to lovers relationship with a M!S/O?
I do not believe you have. And I had a blast writing this, even if I went WAAAAAY overboard with Sakura's half.
Now! Your wish is my command!
You and Sakura met, not through any normal or socially accepted meeting.
But through a street fight that Sakura had just buttoned up after which you showed up.
Sakura, of course, was not the type to back down from a challenge, especially with someone who knew what they were doing.
Little did she know that she may have been fighting a bit above her weight class.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
You let out a hiss of superheated air as flame ignited upon your skin.
“Muay Thai is the art of eight limbs, hard power in one of its purest forms. Now, allow me to show you why that is.”
After that, things went black for Sakura until she woke up three days later, feeling like she got run over by a semi-truck.
“Oooh-ow, ow, ow, did anyone catch the plate on that truck?” Sakura groaned as she sat up, her ribs feeling as if Ryu himself did a full power Shin Shoryuken on her.
“Kid! Are you good!” the familiar voice of a good friend, Dan Hibiki asked, the emotion clear in his voice, and when Sakura looked at him, his face as he had tears in his eyes.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“So you're telling me-OW! SON OF A!!! mhhm- that this new Street Fighter is a student of Sagat? THE Sagat, Emperor Of Muay Thai, one eye, pet Tiger, THAT Sagat?” Sakura asked as she had her bandages wrapped tightly by one of her friends while Dan sat outside the door.
“Yeah, that Sagat. Listen kid, this new fighter… they don’t play around. Sure, they ain’t as mean as Sagat was when he was young, but they do pack a punch as you have no doubt felt.” Dan advised, more than wary of anyone who fought like Sagat did for reasons that were obvious to those that knew the man.
“I know what you mean, what the hell did I even get hit with anyway? A bomb?” Sakura asked as she stood up, her muscles and bones being quite vocal at their displeasure with this.
“It looked like a version of Sagat’s Tiger Raid, though with much rougher technique.” a familiar, high class voice cut in from the outside.
“Karin!? What are you doing here!” Sakura exclaimed in shock.
“Come now, when would I ever miss a chance like-” Karin began to say, her signature laugh already poised and at the ready before she was cut off.
“Miss Kanzuki here has been stopping by to look in on you every day, if it wasn’t for her and her doc’s you probably would still be unconscious as opposed to up and walking around right now.” Dan stated absentmindedly, unaware of the glare the blonde was now giving him.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The next time Sakura saw you, came several months later, and it was in a place she least expected to find someone like you.
In a small convenience store, stocking shelves.
“YOU!?” Sakura nearly screeched when she saw you, placing bags of chips into their place on the shelves.
“Hello there Miss Kasugano. How are those ribs?” you asked as you stood to face her.
“More than ready for round two if that's what you're asking?” Sakura asked, ready and raring for a rematch.
“Tempting. Unfortunately, I must decline. I have a shift to work.” you declared simply before returning to your work.
Sakura was, understandably, left confused by this.
Wasn’t this the same person that, only a few months ago, beat her into unconsciousness for three days straight in the middle of a street?
Why in the world were they practicing restraint now!
“So, how did someone like you end up working in a place like this?” Sakura asked you as she stood with her arms crossed.
“My teacher taught me that the greatest strength and measure of a fighter is not how hard or fast they hit or the technique they do it with, but their humility, their respect to others, and their discipline. The owner treats me well, allows me access to the roof for practice, with room and board as payment for my work. In turn, I work the counter, protect the shop, and ensure that if any fights were to break out that they would be put to a stop.” you answered succinctly.
“Wait, if you are paid in room and board as opposed to money, then how do you pay for food? And Medicine after a fight?” Sakura asked.
“With my winnings.” you declared before standing and beginning to walk away.
“And what if you lose?” Sakura asked.
“I starve, and I hurt until I win again. However, I have yet to lose since arriving here. Perhaps when we next meet, you could remedy that. Sakura Kasugano.” was all you said.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After an invitation like that?
It was on.
Sakura started training like crazy.
She put a bag up with your picture on it, the whole nine yards.
Sure, she nearly got her head taken off by a kick in getting it but that was beside the point.
Dan, for some reason, started teasing her about a crush.
But that was ridiculous, it wasn’t as if she spent every spare minute she had training herself to beat you.
It wasn’t as if she spent her nights thinking about you or anything.
That would be absolutely ridiculous.
Obsessive even!
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
When the next fight between the two of you occurred, it had been almost a year to the day after the first one.
It took place on the same street, at the same time of day.
The only difference?
This was now an official Street Fight.
As it turns out, in the year since the first showdown the two of you had, both of you had made names for yourselves.
Everyone was here.
Everyone.
And now, the showdown was set to begin.
Punch for punch.
Kick for kick.
The two of you were evenly matched, each of you pulling out everything the both of you knew to get an edge over the other.
The moves learned.
The moves copied.
Even the moves both of you had come up with yourselves.
But then, eventually, it came down to the both of you being on the ropes, one final move. For both of you.
You let out a hiss of air as flames engulfed you.
“Tiger-”
Sakura breathed deeply as lightning crackled around her.
“Shin-”
You launched forward and shouted “-DESTRUCTION!!!”
Sakura stepped past your attack as she fired off her own and shouted “SHORYUKEN!!!”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“Tell me, my student. Was the conversation you had an interesting one?” a voice from your memories asked you as you awoke, a smile on your face despite the pain you felt.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After that, things quickly snowballed between the two of you.
Both of you fought the other, both of you winning one and then losing the next.
It was a back and forth that everyone had gotten used to over time.
But then, something unexpected occurred.
The two of you hit it off, in a way that was different from the usual between you two.
And it was all thanks to a certain Kunoichi in training that anyone knew about it.
Rindo-Kan Karate was Makoto’s entire life.
Rindo-Kan Karate was her life blood.
It was how she went through life.
She never expected to meet someone similar to her in that regard.
But then she met you.
Someone who put as much pride in their Bajiquan as she did her Rindo-Kan.
Could there be anyone else to be her Rival?
Her brother teased her mercilessly with how much she went on about you.
But… he didn’t understand why she was so… attached to you.
She felt a connection, a sort of kinship with you.
She felt like she could come to you with her problems and that you could come to her with yours.
A sort of… peaceful feeling.
Like she had someone at her back whenever she needed that extra push to go farther than she ever could before.
A strength that only ever came when she thought or talked about you.
And eventually, although she did not truly know it, she fell for you.
You, in turn, fell for her.
Despite that, neither of you were all too quick to come off of it.
Neither of you wanted to lose your friend and rival.
Neither of you wanted to lose the person who gave them the strength to push further than ever before.
Eventually however, Makoto tossed caution to the wind.
And to this day, she is glad she did.
#street fighter x reader#street fighter#sakura kasugano#sakura kasugano x reader#makoto street fighter#makoto street fighter x reader
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Phic Phight - Death’s Brought Me Company
@Mimca @thesilentbard @carelisswriting @kinglazrus
There are times Vlad is truly baffled at how irresponsible, foolish, reckless, inane, stupid, dangerous, dense, careless, thoughtless, witless, idiotic, and hazardous, Maddie and Jack could be. They were his friends, yes, but they were a menace to everyone around them and he is not impressed with their son becoming their lastest ‘screw up’.
Vlad hums as he sorts through a few papers, there wasn’t too much approvals he needed to go over and sign but it was still work all the same. It would take him a few hours at least, rather than the seven plus hours poor people had to work but well that’s the perks of wealth no matter how questionably immorally acquired. That questionable morality was why he didn’t bring up his business around those friends of his, they didn’t exactly approve of how Vlad got himself to where he is today. He finds it to be rather hypocritical considering those two worked in an area that was highly morally questionable as well, and he highly doubts they’ve achieved everything they have though one hundred percent legal means as well. Alas, he had little interest in arguing such things with them, both could be rather dense after all.
He’s making good time on this application for zoning investigation and work arounds, which was starting to look like he’d definitely have to deal with it personally and with a little intimidation perhaps. Then his phone goes off, he’s tempted to let it simply go to voicemail, no one was truly entitled to his time or immediate attention after all. Then the caller id tells him it’s them, it’s Jack and Maddie, and any ideas of giving the caller(s) the cold shoulder goes out the window. They’d caught up with him four days ago? He’d given them his condolences for their portal, while also adding in some maybe snide remarks about how ‘at least there was no tragic accidents this time’. Secretly, he wanted that to be a success, in part because he knew they’d just keep trying and he’d rather them succeed before hurting themselves. The other part was simply that he can then show them his portal in proper, since they didn’t want seeing his to influence their own work; establish something themselves without others input was something he could respect. But without them being able to sense and feel the flow of ectoplasm even he’s not sure how they’ll manage it. The fact that they’re calling again so soon means either it has indeed worked and they had only needed to fiddle with it a bit more, or someone’s been hurt. All he can do is hope it’s the former, as he picks up the phone, “Maddie? Jack?”.
It’s Maddie’s voice he hears, hearing her voice before Jack’s excited greetings was never a good thing. The last time that happened Jack had gotten himself hospitalised from a head on collision with a semi truck. The time before that, Jack had somehow gotten the house teleported into the mirror dimension, which Vlad hadn’t even known existed. Her voice is worried, “Vlad, I think we messed up”.
Oh no. Vlad sighs, folding up the paperwork that won’t be looked at again today, and puts a few of his fingers to his forehead as he replies, “what happened? Are you two okay?”.
“We’re… fine-”.
“And! Our portals working!”. Ah there’s Jack, there’s excitement in his voice but it’s… far too subdued for the man. Very far too subdued. Something’s gone wrong.
Did a ghost come through their portal? A dangerous one perhaps? Or is the Infinite Realm side location an unpleasant one? Is the portal unstable? There’s lots of possibilities.
“Jack dear, let me explain”.
“Right, sorry Mads. Hey Vlad!”.
Vlad rolls his eyes a little fondly, also slight annoyed of course, Jack could be too eager and exuberant, “yes hello, Jack. Now do explain, Madeline”.
“Maddie”, she clears her throat, “after the portal didn’t work we decided to go for a walk, to try and think in the fresh air and cheer up”.
Perfectly reasonable and expected so far.
“We even formulated a new shaft design we were going to try and work in, but when we got back Jazz… screamed-”.
Jack butts in again, “it was awful and I never want to hear that from my precious princess ever again”; Vlad can hear the man physically shudder. Yes, he supposes hear one’s child scream is never good or pleasant.
“Agreed, Jack. But-”, she sighs, “-it was from the lab, Vlad, so we ran down, worried of course-”. It sounds like she’s bitting her nails, something she only did when very worried. “-the last time anyone screamed in a lab was you and that was terrifying”.
Vlad grumbling, “oh I’m well aware”, shaking his head, “is young Jasmine alright?”.
“Yes, yes, thankfully. But… Danny’s not”. Well butter biscuits, Vlad gets up immediately to go grab his coat as she continues, “apparently Danny saw how upset we were and thought he’d try to fix the portal for us-”.
Vlad pauses with one arm through his jacket sleeve, he almost squawks but he absolutely does not squawk, “what”; he knows a bit of his ghostly power leaked into his voice and that made his response less pleasant on the ears, but he hardly cares. “How did he even get down there”.
She doesn’t chastise him for using his more ghostly voice over phone, meaning she might be concerned enough to have not even noticed, “we… might have forgot to lock the lab when we left-”.
Jack butting in yet again, “but the kids have been drilled on safety! He really should have known not too!”.
Vlad growls low, “they’re children, Jack”, pulling his jacket on fully and taking a breath, “children are not known for abiding by rules and are well known to have invincibility complexes”. Daniel was a stellar and unfortunate example of that. That boy had tried to eat a pie that was actively on fire before, and don’t get him started on the child trying to ‘bake himself’ or the blackbird pie incident.
Maddie swallows, “I know we weren’t as careful as we should have been, Vlad. Danny… wandered inside the portal to see if he could fix it and it turned out we… forgot to unplug it as well and… forgot there was an on switch inside that needed to be turned on”.
Vlad knows well his eyes flash red, “excuse me, would you care to repeat that”, that was practically a threat and he knew it. How could they be so! So! So stupid! So utterly and completely and unbelievably moronic! “You left it plugged in, forgot an on switch INSIDE THE MACHINE, failed to lock the Cracker Jack door, and left a dangerous highly volatile machine in working condition alone while your children were home. Are you two actively TRYING to hospitalise people?!”. It takes some effort to not simply crush his phone, “college I can understand, we were all too excitable, but now? Absolutely not”, growling again, “now. What is Daniel’s condition”. That’s a demand not a question.
He can hear the wince in her voice, good, and her tones shaky, for a change he’s hoping that’s from fear of him. “He’s… he’s out of the hospital now, Vlad. He’s-”.
What. “You mean to tell me he was in hospital and you didn’t call me immediately. Madeline, what the butter biscuits is wrong with you two!”. This was completely unacceptable. He paces in a circle, he wanted her to just hang up already so he can head over there personally and shoot something just to get across how unbelievably pissed and unimpressed he is. As it is he’s seriously debating throwing one of his crystal whiskey glasses at a wall.
“I, we knew you’d be mad and, Vlad, it’s not the same. There’s no ecto-acne, his hair’s the same. The doctor even said he was having a perfectly normal reaction to high voltage electrocution. His vitals weren’t even wonky!”.
Jack blurting out, “we were confused! Relieved but confused!”.
Vlad pauses, stilling, “he… doesn’t have ecto-acne? None of my symptoms?”. That… then perhaps the boy would be fine? Wouldn’t be changed by them?
Maddie clearly bites her lip, “no and I thought that, maybe, if you were around, with your ecto-field, that might change things. I thought it was a risk and I knew you’d come immediately if we called”.
Vlad pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs aggressively. He supposes they very well could have a point there. As there would be no way to safely confirm if Vlad being near would have some effect on someone else who got caught in a portal. It would genuinely be a risk. Even if she had explained that worry to him he knows he would have gone anyway, he wouldn’t have been able to take her at her word. He still can’t, won’t. “I want you to send me his medical records, immediately. I’ll read them on my way”.
“I’d chastise you about distracted flying but, I understand. We’ve poured over them already and they really are normal. But, he’s- something’s not right even if he keeps saying he’s fine”.
Vlad glares at a wall, it melts slightly, “butter biscuits”, at least his tablet pings an email, him transforming as he opens it, it’s the medical files. Him nodding to himself, at least they had the files on standby already, “got them. I’ll be there shortly. However, do know that I am not impressed”, and he hangs up without giving them the chance to say goodbyes or see you soons.
Him flying out a window and flipping through his tablet, the files are… somehow perfectly normal and Vlad is a little baffled. His own records showed himself as having a disturbingly low heart rate and blood pressure, an extreme feverish body temp, and far too few breaths per minute. Daniel’s was: eighty two bpm, one-twenty over eighty mmHg, ninety-seven point nine Fahrenheit, and a respiratory rate of eleven. His respiratory was on the lower end but it wasn’t actively concerning, Vlad himself often averaged only four.
Normal was good. But Madeline said she still felt something wasn’t right, perhaps she was simply paranoid or perhaps the electrocution had simply raised Daniel’s vitals for a period of time. Vlad shaking his head, the fact that the boy had been inside of the portal and electrocuted instead of simply blasted in the face by pure ecto-energy was horrific; but perhaps such an unfortunate experience would prevent him from becoming something no longer truly human. Vlad did consider himself better for how he is now, but that didn’t make the process of become content with it a pleasant one, it also didn’t make being a halfa a good thing as it arguably was not. It was a rather lonely existence, which Vlad would rather not see changed in this particular instance. It could one day get him experimented on by his own government, and under that same government he did not truly have rights. He had nothing he could compare himself to, for curiosities sake or for the sake of his well being. There was also the simple fact that having powers resulted in his view of the world and other people being undeniably altered. The mental changes and instincts were an entirely separate issue, one he’s embraced, but that applies to him and perhaps not to a young teenage boy.
He now rather wished it had been Maddie or Jack that had gotten caught in their own creation, rather than a child.
Either way, he’s here now. Floating invisibly above the FentonWorks building and feeling the desire to blast that sign of theirs out of frustration and annoyance. One would think after what happened with him they’d be even slightly more careful, but apparently not. He lands with a scowl, phasing through the front door and, at the sight that only Maddie and Jack appearing to be around, transforms back into his human form and drops his invisibility; both of them jerk a little and he glares instead of half heartedly apologising or mocking them. “Where is he”. It’s not a question and they know it. Vlad can smell that the boy’s not here, and he’s none too pleased about that.
Jack rubs his neck, “school”. While Maddie winces. Vlad glaring a little more, “he just got of the hospital for at the very least being electrocuted and you sent him to school”.
Maddie standing up from her chair, hands up pacifyingly, “he wanted to, Vlad”, dropping her hands, “even Jazz tried to get him to stay home but he got mad at her for being overbearing and still left”.
Jack frowning, “he’s been making almost every excuse he can to not be here, kinda part of our worry you know?”, and laughs in that awkward way that Vlad knows means he’s upset and possibly even scared.
Vlad rubs his temples and walks in further, “I suppose that’s acceptable then, but what teen actually wants to go to school?”.
“Jazz thinks he’s traumatised and doesn’t want to be around the portal”, Maddie frowns, “which is understandable”.
Vlad scowling, “yes, yes it is”.
Jack tilting his head in confusion, “but he’s still cleaning the lab, like he’s supposed to so I don’t think Jazz’s theory makes sense”.
Vlad blinks at the man, he can’t be serious. “You’re telling me, you have Daniel who was just in a portal accident cleaning your lab? Surrounded by ectoplasm samples and mess. Jack, I am genuinely debating trying to beat you up”. The man looks apologetic rather than frightened, which is a fair bit grating. Giving Maddie a hard look, “how can you justify him being around that if you were worried about him being around me”.
“We don’t really know how different your ecto-field is, Vlad. And you give off a ton more than any samples we have. For all any of us know there could be some form of halfa gene or energy in yours”.
Alright, Vlad can admit that could very well be the case. Sighing, “fine. I still don’t approve”, moving into the kitchen/dinning room fully, “now what about him seems wrong? I know him being avoidant, of you two or the lab or merely the portal would not be enough to set off alarm bells”. After all, such behaviour would be perfectly normal and human.
Maddie frowns and grabs a sample vial out of the fridge, “we found blood and ectoplasm in the bathroom this morning, and remembering what… happened with you and your wings, well”, she hands it over to him and he gets her concern immediately, it looks like one of his own samples. “It’s not separating out like human blood and ghost ectoplasm normally does. Normally does, with any sample that isn’t from you or someone severely contaminated long term”.
Vlad nods at the sample, this was near as good as proof to him. He winces a bit internally though, feeling a bit of a pang of sympathy for the boy. The wings ‘coming out’ as it were, was incredibly unpleasant. He’s glad Jack and Maddie had been there for that, to ‘help’ even if it was mostly them getting things straightened out and cleaning him up when he was frankly too exhausted to do it himself. However this meant they weren’t there for their son, which would be the more important one to be there for. Rolling his right shoulder a bit, “I’m assuming there’s more, because yes, him just being contaminated is a viable option”.
Jack nods, “he keeps dropping things and acts very freaked out after”. Maddie nodding at her husband then looking back to Vlad, “I’m fairly certain I saw his cereal spoon go through his fingers rather than just dropping it. And he has that unnerving aura around him that you do, I might be desensitised to it but that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel it sometimes”, and she laughs playfully a little.
Vlad glaring, flashing his eyes at her, “I’m not in the mood, Madeline”; making her wince. Vlad pinching the bridge of his nose yet again, eyes squeezing shut, “alright, so it would seem that Daniel is mostly likely a halfa now, correct?”. Dropping his hand and eyeing them as they both nod, “yet he did not have ecto-acne or abnormal vitals?”. More nodding, “and he’s being avoidant of a house full of ghost hunting gear as well as the two ghost hunters who reside in it?”.
Maddie smacks herself in the face immediately, Jack thumping his head down on the table. Maddie groaning, “why did we not clue in to that? Ugh. He’s afraid we’re going to hurt him or hunt him”. Jack snapping his head up, “we would never!”.
Vlad gives them a bit of a pitying look, eyeing Jack specifically, “you two found out the same time I did about my altered state of being, there was never a chance for me to have those kinds of worries”, scoffing, “not that I would have. But Daniel is a child. His brain isn’t even fully developed, it’s a wonder he didn’t run away on you. Of course he’s afraid of ghost hunters if he’s a ghost himself”. They both wince at least.
And the then house phone goes off, Maddie picking it up immediately, “hello?”.
Vlad tilts his head, his ghostly hearing making it easy to listen in. “Hey Mrs. Fenton. Was wondering if Danny could spend the night? We got a big project and apparently the dummy forgot to actually do his part”. That reeks of a lie, it’s not a bad one though, he’ll give what sounds like a teen girl that much; it was most likely that Samantha girl.
Maddie eyes the vial now sitting on the table, hopefully she’s thinking what he is, Daniel’s friends knew and were trying to help him, most likely with the fresh wings. Vlad would gamble a concerning amount of money on the belief that Daniel most certainly did not actually go to school and neither did his friends. Maddie shakes her head to herself, “I would really rather he come home, I’m sure any school work he needs to do is important but I’d like him home”.
Vlad rolls his eyes, the woman was going to make the boy a bundle of nerves, so he walks over and phases the phone out of her grip, making her jump. She glares at him and puts her hands on her hips, “what do you think you’re doing?”. Vlad simply smirks, said smirk likely airing on the ‘villainous’ side, before giving his attention to the phone, “tell young Daniel that his godfather would like to see him and that said grandfather is not unfamiliar with certain portal-related accidents, as it were”. Maddie looks worried. Him moving the phone away from his ear and covering the mic, “relax, dear Maddie. Being blunt with the boy is far better than making him scared to come home”.
The, “what are you talking about?!?”, that comes through the phone making all three of them wince from the static and warble. Maddie paling a little and leaning against the counter, after all, that kind of vocal effect was explicitly ghostly and one she’s heard from Vlad quite literally today multiple times. It was more solid proof. A different male voice, that isn’t spectrally infused, pipes up in the background, “dude, your voice?”.
Hmmm, yes his friends did indeed know. Vlad smirking a little again, “Daniel, tell that friend of yours not to worry about your voice, it’s perfectly normal when emotional”.
“Um. Uh. Okay?”. Oh the boy sounds so unsure and freaked out, Vlad almost wants to mock him a little. It sounds like he’s turned his head away from the phone, “um, so apparently what just happened is normal? And my uncle god father guy might be, you know, kinda like me or something? And I should probably actually go home”.
Then the girls voice again, “if your parents shoot you, I’m stabbing them and burying their bodies in my garden”.
The other male sounds like he’s frowning, “do you want us to go with? You know, moral support?”.
It would seem Daniel had good friends. A blessing indeed. Hopefully they were less reckless and idiotic than Vlad’s own friends, regardless of how fond of them he was. However, Vlad has no interest in explaining himself to three teenagers, Daniel needed the information the other two could hear it from him, “I’d much rather not have this conversation with three hormonal teenagers”.
Daniel is clearly still talking to his friends, “okay so that’s a no, Tuck. Apparently we’re too hormonal”.
“More like homicidal, I do have boots with knives inside them”.
“I’m not wearing your shoes, Sam”.
“You don’t need to wear them! Throw them!”.
“Your shoes weigh, like, twenty goddamn pounds?”.
The boy butts into the argument, “I’m not sure that matters anymore, man. You accidentally lifted up my dad’s car”.
“Shut up, Tuck. Ugh”. Daniel’s attention does seem to return to the phone at that, “am I in trouble?”.
Vlad rolls his eyes, “hardly. The only ones in trouble are two reckless scientists who let this happen for a second time”; he throws another glare at the two who smartly wince and glance away.
Daniel almost excited whispers, “oh my god my parents are in trouble, that’s kinda awesome”; his friends laugh in the background.
“Well if you find that amusing, come home and mock them”.
Daniel sighs, “okay fine”.
Vlad nodding to himself, “good. Now for the love of all the Gouda in the world, do not try to bind or strap down your, let’s say, feathered friends, you’ll just damage them and bent feathers are hardly becoming of a man or boy”. Vlad took expert care of his wings and he wasn’t about to tolerate Daniel not doing the same, or everything forbid misshaping them.
This time Daniel actually squeaks, “okay”, then hangs up.
Vlad feels quite content with himself actually. Looking to Maddie and Jack, who still look rather awkward, “he’s coming. Now hopefully I don’t need to tell you two to avoid staring or trying to take samples from him”, he doesn’t like that they appear slightly confused, “Daniel isn’t me, I was and am an adult and an ecto-ologist myself, he is neither”.
Maddie sighs and nods to herself, “right right, he needs us a parents only and the last thing we’d want to do is make him feel like an experiment”.
Vlad nodding strongly right back, “indeed”.
Jack smacking his fist into his hand and springing up, “oh! We should change so we’re not in the, you know, ghost hunter stuff!”. Vlad chuckling a little, “that’s not a bad idea”, which makes the man run off upstairs. Maddie shaking her head fondly and moving to follow after him; Vlad watching her go.
They were fools but they cared, it was only too bad their foolishness had to bring harm unto others so often. Yes Daniel’s own actions had been foolish, much like Vlad’s had been, but that boy was a child and that made a world of difference. A child should have the expectation that something that could alter their very being and species wouldn’t be left unattended and plugged in inside an unlocked room. Daniel was well within reason to believe that the worst that could happen was a slight burn or small shock, a cut perhaps. Not death, by half or full.
Daniel arrives before his parents actually finish changing, getting in and out of biohazard suits wasn’t exactly easy, even for Vlad since he couldn’t phase through the material. Arguably this was for the best, Vlad was watching the door, leaning back against the kitchen entryway wall, as Daniel sticks his head in cautiously. Daniel spotting him, stares, looking confused, so Vlad gestures at his eyes and flashes them their ghostly red. Daniel jumps a little before relaxing and moving inside fully, he’s… holding a blanket around his shoulders even if it’s not doing much to hide that there’s something large underneath. Vlad definitely wants to mock him, very badly in fact, drawling a very sarcastic, “impeccable fashion choices, Daniel. I applaud you”.
Daniel scowls at him, “what else am I supposed to do, you jerk”, there’s a bit of humour in his eyes so Vlad counts that as a win. Daniel glancing around as the door shuts and he shuffles inside more, “where are, mom and dad?”.
“Upstairs at the moment”, Vlad eyes the ground around the boy, no shadow. Daniel is absolutely a halfa, even with wings he could still technically be merely extremely contaminated, but without a shadow there’s no way he’s fully human. Light simply passed through their kind in the same way it did with ghosts and there was nothing that could be done about that. Which yes, was part of why Vlad preferred to avoid needless public appearances.
Daniel nods, eyeing Vlad, “so, where’s yours? Or were you just yanking my chain?”.
Vlad rolls his eyes at that, pushing himself off the wall and letting his wings unfurl out through the holes he had in the backs off all his clothes these days, crimson red feathers lining the inside and his white ones covering the outside. Stretching one out to flick Daniel in the forehead with the primary feathers. Daniel stares wide-eyed, “how did you do that? How do you hide them?! I have so many questions”.
Vlad chuckles, his blatant curiosity, with no hints of horror or distrubia was a genuinely welcome reaction. It reminded him of Jack, except without getting his very fresh at the time feathers grabbed and prodded. Folding his wings up against his back again, though leaving them out instead of reabsorbing them, “I imagine so”, walking over towards Daniel and grabbing the blanket he’s still using as a cover and pulling it up some, ignoring Daniel’s clear embarrassment. “We’re malleable things, absorbing them inside ourselves is a simple though uncomfortable task”. The constant full sensation in his torso and the aches from wings that wanted to be stretched out could be incredibly annoying and cumbersome. Humming, “yours are much too fresh though, you need to heal first. I can say the colour seems to suit you well though”. The red inner feathers of his own used to confuse him, until he grew up and stablised into his more vampiric appearance anyways. Daniel’s were white and seemed to shimmer or sparkle like fresh snow, which went well with his pale skin; they even felt cold like snow, was his core an ice type perhaps? The black tipping on all the feathers, as well as his lesser coverts and alula feathers being black was a decent accent and went well with his dark hair. If Vlad had to guess, Daniel’s tertial feathers are black as well.
Daniel blinks, apparently a little baffled by how calm Vlad was being, “yours… go with your eyes?”
Alright yes, Vlad laughs at that, “they suit me more than you can tell, boy”.
Daniel snorts at that and rolls his eyes, “whatever, old man”, though his fidgeting fingers give away his nerves.
“Alright! Is he here yet!”, Jack pops down the stairs in his stupid ghost themed overalls, how did that man not understand that those things did not flatter him at all? Jack brightening up at seeing his son, and basically bounding down the stairs. Daniel pulling the wing out of Vlad’s grasp and hiding it under the blanket again, “oh! Um, hi? Dad?”, cringing dramatically, “what are you wearing?!”. See even Daniel understands it’s unbecoming.
Vlad has no desire to play a game of ‘beat around the bush’ so he nods to Jack, and Maddie as she comes down as well, “he doesn’t have a shadow, meaning that yes, he’s a halfa as well”.
“I- wait what?”, Daniel looks down, “what do you mean in don’t have a shadow?”, does a little circle spin ‘thing’ while staring at the ground and blinking, “holy shit I don’t have a shadow”.
“Language, my boy”. Had he seriously not noticed? Well Vlad knows which parent he got that lack of attention to detail from, as endearing as that particular flaw could be it wasn’t a good one.
Maddie gives Vlad a bit of a pinched smile before making a point to hold Jack back from crowding the boy, her walking up and ruffling Daniel’s hair, Daniel eyeing the bare hand cautiously. “To be fair, sweety, we didn’t notice either”.
Perhaps he got it from both of them. How unfortunate. Vlad shakes his head, stepping back a little to let the mother look over her son and the father hover close enough by that it doesn’t quite qualify as crowding. Vlad huffing, “considering you didn’t notice an entire misplaced on switch I’m not sure why I’m surprised”.
Both parents wince but Daniel blinks at him a bit owlishly, it absolutely does not come off as human, “wait, how do you know that?”.
Jack rubbing his neck and getting his son’s attention, “well, we inspected the portal after your, uh, accident. We wanted to know how it happened, since we thought it was completely nonfunctional”.
“Right. Your ground breaking life’s work. Got it”. Even Vlad cringes from that response, it was explicitly bitter.
Jack holds up his hands, looking awkward as he should for that comment. “No not just how you got it to work. More like how it worked at all, every other time we’ve failed it had to be completely reworked so it should have been fine not being unplugged… or locked… which yeah was really stupid of us. Heh”, and rubs his neck.
Vlad sighs, touching a few fingers to his forehead, “what your buffoon of a father is trying to say is that he wanted to know how you were even able to get hurt”, then glaring at Jack, “I am still fully tempted to smack both of you over the head, know that”.
Daniel actually looks amused and pleased at that; progress. And stares a little surprised when Jack smacks Vlad on the back a couple of times, paying no mind to the wings. Muttering to himself, “Huh, I guess they are okay”. Meanwhile Vlad’s simply trying to stop himself from getting knocked over.
Maddie nodding and startling the boy a little, “we’ve had twenty years to get used to him and all the changes that happened, you’re fine and we definitely are not going to shoot you or anything of that sort”. Jack nodding and grinning in agreement readily.
Vlad inspects his nails a little, “I’d be quite annoyed if that wasn’t the case”, waving at Jack dismissively while speaking to Daniel again, “your father was more explicitly responsible for my little accident”, huffing, “though I’ll admit sticking my face directly in front of a potentially viable proto portal was indeed foolish”.
“I mean, at least you didn’t try to put it around your neck to wear it like a collar”.
Vlad blinks at the boy, a bit affronted, “that would be utterly imbecilic rather than just foolish”.
Maddie blinks before putting a hand over her face again, “right, yeah”, looking at Vlad, “we caught him doing that with another proto portal model, that’s why we stopped making them”.
Vlad smacks Daniel over the back of the head immediately, “you are a danger to yourself and a complete moron. Child or no”.
Daniel squawks, “ow! Hey!”, and covers his head with his hands, “it was funny!”; this all resulting in him dropping the blanket, which thumps to the ground quietly considering how much it doing so revealed. Daniel blinking owlishly again and eyeing his folks as they get their first proper glimpse of the wings.
Vlad humming to himself while the boy has an internal crisis or two, “hmmm, I was right, your tertials are indeed black”.
“My, what?”.
Vlad unfolds a wing some and gesture at the fluffier feathers that stayed close to his side and back, “the inner most feathers, the only ones that actually stay ‘fluffy’”, gesturing at Daniel’s fuzzy fluffy feathers, “you have feather down right now, that’ll go away with age”. Vlad only had to put up with that for around two years if he remembers right, Daniel’s would likely stick around for at least four; that thought making him snicker at the boy, “give it a few years, at least four, I’d say”. Daniel pouts at him.
Jack beams, “meaning more time for cute baby ghost pictures!”; that Daniel absolutely fully groans at, burying his face in his hands. “We only have five of Vlad”.
Vlad scowling, “and here I thought I burned all of those”.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t now?!”, Jack’s grin is almost mean which is strange to see on the jubilant man, “now Danny-boy can see them!”. At least that makes Daniel laugh into his hand.
Vlad rolls his eyes, though he supposes the bonding would be worth the embarrassment. As well as reassuring to the boy that he’s normal, for their species anyways. Though… Daniel still has his wings as scrunched up and as pressed into himself as possible, he wasn’t relaxing them at all. Sighing at the boy, “the more difficult you make healing the longer it’ll take to be able to hide them”.
“Huh?”.
Vlad ignores him, as well as his parents looks of concern, and moves around Daniel to physically grab the wings and force them open and away from his back a bit. Daniel yelping and attempting to jerk out of Vlad’s grasp, “hey!”.
Vlad just glares at the very sloppy stitch work and bandaging attached with, of all things, scotch tap. This would scar horrifically if not corrected immediately, “by Gouda, who did this? This is going to heal horribly even without you trying to scrunch your wings up out of existence. Kitchen table, now, we’re fixing this”. Vlad doesn’t care that the boy is clearly embarrassed when Jack and Maddie tilt their heads over or physically move to get a look and cringe themselves.
At least Daniel does move into the kitchen, not moving his wings at all from the position Vlad effectively moved them into, good, smart boy. Daniel grumbling, “Sam did and I think she did a great job”.
“A great job for a teenager not for a doctor. Any doctor who did this would lose their license on the spot or I’d sue them into bankruptcy”.
Jack brings over their medi kit, the one they’d use on him on the rare occasion it was needed. Vlad liked to pride himself on rarely getting injured even when dealing with ghosts. Of course one can’t employ ghosts without out first proving why they’re the employer and not the employee. Skulker in particular took a while to beat down into submission. Maddie getting out what’s needed from the kit while Daniel sits down on one of the stools, “um, why is the thread in there glowing?”.
Maddie’s response is automatic and she doesn’t take her eyes off of her task, “it’s phase proof, so you won’t accidentally phase it out of your skin”.
“Oh okay, yeah that makes sense I guess”.
Vlad rolls his eyes, “I would hope so. Now hold still and don’t fold your wings in”. It was fairly clear Daniel was more comfortable with him touching his wings, likely because Vlad had his own pair, so Vlad maneuvers the wings around for Maddie as she does her work. Vlad, figuring he might as well use this time to explain and to distract the boy from the pain of this, hums, “Jack and Maddie said you’ve been clumsy, dropping things, so I take it your having issues with the powers?”. Vlad had had some control issues in the beginning, but not much. In fact, Vlad didn’t get his powers for quite a while after his accident and they came one by one and very painfully. They always stung and felt foreign the first few times, it seemed like Daniel might not be having such issues.
Daniel flushing, “oh um, yeah? It’s just comes so easily, naturally or whatever, that it kinda just keeps happening?”.
Vlad quirking a single well manicured eyebrow, “and it doesn’t hurt? At all?”.
Daniel turns his head to give Vlad a confused look, “no? Should it?”.
Jack looks relieved and gets Daniel’s attention, responding before Vlad can, “oh yeah, it was pretty bad every time a new one cropped up. Sure it was cool too! But the pain and it making his ecto-acne flair up really made it kinda suck. I totally freaked out the first time”.
Maddie nodding as she threads some more of the ecto-line, “to be fair, your best friend falling through his bed, and all his medications and monitors, while screaming would be very scary to anyone”.
Vlad huffing, “I will not admit to being terrified at the time”, was saying that basically admitting to it? Absolutely not and no one can convince him otherwise.
Daniel huffing, “then I’m not admitting to being scared either, jerk”, shaking his head gently, hopefully with the purpose of not disturbing Maddie or causing himself more pain. How well he could hide pain was a little concerning. “Should I be worried I’m not getting pain from it and stuff? And each time you got a new one?”, Daniel quirks an eyebrow, “you didn’t just get everything all at once? Ecto-acne?”.
“That level of pain would have likely knocked me unconscious for multiple days, so no. I got my powers slowly over multiple years, which were spent hospitalised”. Humming and tapping his chin, he wonders why they’re different like this? He’s clearly a halfa and not a full ghost, otherwise he wouldn’t look human at all and he wouldn’t still have a human scent; yes it was tinted with ectoplasm but it was still human. Could it be because his own accident was with a proto portal and not a genuine one? Or did the size and power output matter? Perhaps how much of the body was engulfed at once? Since it sounded like Daniel’s entire body was blasted all at once, while only his face was affected. Perhaps that was why Daniel didn’t get ecto-acne?
Jack scratches his head, “I don’t think? you need to worry? There really isn’t an ‘normal’ way this works since Vlad’s the only halfa we all know of. And your, uh accidents, were pretty different”.
Daniel quirks an eyebrow at Jack then turns the look on Vlad, clearly wanting an explanation. Vlad shrugging like talking about it didn’t really bother him, “I got blasted in the face, and only the face, by a proto portal that quite possibly had contaminated ectoplasm in it. Where as it sounds like you got blasted head to toe by a genuine fully functional portal, that would definitely have been using pure ectoplasm otherwise it wouldn’t be working”, frowning, “I also did not get electrocuted, so it is not as if you got out of this pain free”.
Daniel winces, “yeah that wasn’t fun”. Maddie and Jack also wincing, it looks like Maddie’s got the first wing back tear stitched up properly now.
Jack rubbing his neck and eyeing his son, “we are really sorry that happened though”.
Daniel shrugs, making Vlad smack him over the head again, Daniel grumbling and rubbing the back of his head, “ow. And it’s fine, dad. I shouldn’t have been messing with stuff”.
Vlad scoffs, “it shouldn’t have been accessible for you to mess with in the first place”. Making both parents look thoroughly chastised, good.
Daniel glares at Vlad, “I would have picked the lock anyways”.
Maddie glares at his back for that, “since when did you pick up lock picking, mister”.
“Uh, Tuck has a bad habit of locking himself out of his house? Sam thinks it’s too funny to help and he can’t pick a lock to save his life?”.
Vlad grins meanly, “what a budding little criminal you are”.
“Hey!”.
Vlad studiously ignores the glares Maddie and Jack throw him, clearly trying to discourage Vlad from being a more illegal bad influence on their kid. Vlad putting a proud hand to his chest, “perhaps you shall follow in my footsteps and start robbing banks”.
Maddie’s scowl can be heard in her voice, “Vlad”. Jack pouts at him, “you know we would have paid your hospital bills”.
“I have no interest in being indebted to others because of money, such things are beneath me”.
Daniel gives him an affronted look, pity, “I am not robbing banks, what the hell uncle?!? Why would you use powers for that?!? I’d use them to, like, рⷬrͬoͦᴛⷮeͤcͨᴛⷮ people or something first”.
Vlad blinks at the inhuman ghostly subvocal to that, which he’s sure Jack and Maddie didn’t pick up on. They didn’t pick up on it when he himself did it, over that pesky little possession obsession. Perhaps Daniel’s own obsession was protection based… Vlad may have to cautious of that, as he could see himself bothering a protective obsession. Beyond Jack’s and Maddie’s well being, he hardly cares if his endeavours harm others. He’s not going to comment on his suspicions though, it was rude to out another ghosts, or halfas, obsession like that and opened yourself up for attack. Jack grins, “that’s my boy!”. Making Vlad roll his eyes at the large man.
Daniel flushes though and Vlad can pick up on the slightly concerned off put look on his face, the boy likely noticed something was off with his comment. That there was a strong pushy undercurrent of pure want in there and likely in his chest as well; even if he’s positive Daniel’s core hasn’t developed enough for him to genuinely feel it yet. Daniel clearing his throat, “so um, our accidents were really different then”.
Vlad smirks at the boy, who glares back, before nodding his head, “indeed. And I suspect my ecto-acne played a large role in my being in pain and perhaps also why I took years for my powers to develop”.
Jack nods, tapping his chin, “I really wish we knew exactly why that ecto-acne happened”. Vlad nodding readily, it was something they would probably never figure out. (He would later find out, due to his ecto-acne returning and Daniel trying to help him, that it was because of pop in the filtrator. He was incredibly infuriated by that, and Jack apologising profusely didn’t little to temper his anger).
Vlad eyeing Daniel, Maddie seemed almost done with the other wing back tear, “now, care to enlighten me on your abilities? It would be best to confirm if they’re the same as mine”. At the boy eyeing him cautiously Vlad rolls his eyes with a huff, “invisibility, intangibility, gravity nullification or floating in layman’s terms, enhanced senses, increased physical ability and durability, duplication, ecto-blasts, ecto-shields, transformation, overshadowing, healing factor, teleportation, body modification or contortion, mild electrokenisis, pyrokenisis, power augmentation, ecto-twister, and a resistance to anti-ghost tech”. He studiously ignores the proud smile on Maddie’s and Jack’s faces, they always got oddly proud over how powerful he was. Yes he himself took great pride in that, being able to best relatively any ghost he came across, but as full humans they should find that unsettling and perhaps it wounded his pride a little that they did not.
Daniel blinks in that owlish way again, Vlad’s going to have to talk to him about breaking that forming habit, then whistles, “well damn, uncle. That’s nothing to piss at”.
All three adults look at him disgusted. Vlad scowling deeply, “I would rather no one ever piss on me, Daniel. That is disgusting”. Right, he always forgets that Daniel has a rather peculiar and annoying sense of humour.
Maddie shaking her head while doing up the last stitch and standing up, stretching a little and handing her tools off to Jack to clean up, “alright, you’ll be good once I get you bandaged”.
Daniel looks over his shoulder and wing a little awkwardly, “uh, thank you? Thanks, mom”, and forces a smile at her.
She ruffles his hair with a genuine soft smile, “of course, Danny. You’re more than welcome to come to us if you ever get hurt, we can teach Sam and Tuck too if you’re more comfortable with that”. Jack holding up a finger, “and them knowing would probably be a good idea anyway. Never know when you’re going to get hurt!”.
Vlad sighing and massaging his temples, “yes of course, especially since as soon as the ghosts find out there’s another halfa, they’ll want to test your metal”.
Daniel blinks, “what?”, while Maddie sorts out which bandaging she wants to use.
“Fight you, Daniel. It’s part of how ghosts socialise and establish their standing compared to each other. Ghosts are very much rule of the strong”, looking to Jack, “you two have been sticking to teaching him combat, right”. Jack nodding readily, so Vlad nods back, “good”, looking back to Daniel, “now stop dodging the powers question. Your parents aren’t freaked out by mine, they won’t be freaked out by yours”.
Jack giving his son a thumbs up, “dont worry, Danny-boy. And ghosts vary a lot and you’re young and new, so if you’ve got less than Vladdie that’s likely super normal”. Vlad nods like that’s obvious, because it was.
Daniel flushes, “uh, well I don’t think I can do all that? But I think I’m, uh, stronger than I was a few days ago”.
Vlad nodding, “you were freshly formed, as it were, a few days ago. I doubt every single ability you’ll have would have developed immediately or within a few days”.
Daniel chuckles awkwardly and rubs his neck, Maddie tapping in his back to remind him not to move too much, making Daniel look even more awkward, “yeah I guess that makes sense”, tilting his head, “um, so far then, I don’t have anything you don’t I think? Invisibility, intangibility, the gravity thing, the heightened physical ability which I’m guessing is strength and speed and stuff, probably the healing factor, body morphing, I don’t think the voice echo thing counts as a power-”.
Vlad snorts, “it does not, good for intimidation though”.
Daniel makes a face at him but continues, “-my senses are better, and transformation”.
All three adults blink, surprised. Vlad titling his head, “you can transform already? Into your more ghostly appearance?”.
Daniel’s, “yes?”, is very awkward and mousy.
Jack beams and jumps, it’s rather embarrassing and childish. “Awesome! I bet you look awesome and very spooky!”, laughing, “it took ol’ Vladdie, like, six years to do that! And! He usually couldn’t hold it for very long!”.
Vlad grumbles, not pouts, grumbles at the man, “I was still healing and it’s an entirely deferent state of being, of course I had issues, Jack”. Jack just grins and laughs a little more.
Daniel tilts his head but chuckles at Vlad, “I think it’s easy, I mean sure I detransform, I guess, accidentally. And it’s kinda weird getting it to work, but when I really remember the how I can do it”.
Maddie nods, giving the bandaging a pat down before staring up, “alright, your good”, moving her head to be more in Danny’s line of sight, “you feel like showing us? Your other form?”, then looking at Vlad with a quirked eyebrow, “I’m sure your uncle Vlad wouldn’t object to showing you his?”.
Vlad waves her off, “oh but of course, you know how much I love to show off”.
Daniel looks at him blatantly curious, though clearly also nervous.
So Vlad steps back a bit and does a little bit of a dramatic bow while letting his transformation rings travel over his body. A little curious about Daniel’s muttered, “why are his black?”. Regardless, Vlad straightens up in his ghostly form, making a point to keep his feet planted in the ground.
Daniel stares a little, tilting his head at an angle that’s a little past humanly possible, “wow you look way different”, then snickering, “very vampire, nice horn hair”.
Vlad is well aware he is being mocked. Today he’ll tolerate such insult, since he’s effectively explaining for the first time being a halfa to another halfa who is also a child, his godson at that. “Yes yes, laugh it up”.
“Did you always look this different?”.
“Yes and no, I bulked up a lot and my hair changed. The fangs, ear points, and claws are all adult ghost traits as well”.
Jack grinning at Daniel, “meaning you shouldn’t have them now but will one day”, and only grins more at his son’s groan.
Vlad nodding, crossing his arms, “and if you get into fights, you’ll likely bulk up at least in ghost form. Now, you wondered at my rings being black, are yours not?”.
Daniel shrinks down a little, “I, um. No?”. And glances around, all three adults giving him encouraging gestures. Daniel flushing a little and clearing his throat, nodding a little. Vlad has a genuinely hard time not mocking the boy when he mutters a very quiet, “I’m going ghost”, before the white -different indeed- rings appear. Perhaps a… catchphrase helped the boy focus on the change? Regardless all three eye the more ghostly version of Daniel as the rings finish their job. Vlad’s almost miffed at how the transformation did seem easy for him, but oh well.
Daniel’s ghost form has a black hazmat suit with white gloves and white boots, his hair’s also a very shocking white. Vlad’s a little surprised his green eyes still have black pupils and white sclera, perhaps that would change as he grew into adulthood? Some ghosts did have black pupils and white sclera though, so it may very well just be the way his eyes are naturally. Daniel… looks incredibly similar to his human half, far more than Vlad ever did. Perhaps it was due to how quickly his ghost form formed? “Well you certainly don’t look all that different”. Daniel just shrugs awkwardly and jumps a little, remaining floating in the air after, at Maddie ruffling his hair; Daniel's hair waved around almost flame-like at the action.
Jack grins at Daniel, “I say it suits you! You have a pretty strong glow too!”.
Vlad leaning over some to hold his own arm up near Daniel’s having to phase through some of the boys left wing, Daniel’s glow is actually brighter than his own, if only by a hair. If Daniel was equal to him in experience and skill then Vlad’s not certain he could actually win. That was slightly concerning, on a ghostly level, no strong ghost liked the potential of a stronger one. But it was also quite thrilling, this boy could perhaps challenge him and could be something special if trained well; that prospect was incredibly enticing actually. Very thrilling indeed. “A strong glow is good, no godson of mine should be weak”.
Daniel blinking and looking at his arm, “so my… glow means I’m strong?”.
All three adults nod, Vlad standing back up right and crossing his arms again, “a stronger glow means you’re shedding off a high output of ecto-energy, it means you’ve got a high amount of natural ecto-energy. That your body self produces and filters a larger amount of ecto-energy”, humming, “though it may very well be that all halfas are powerful by our nature, as it is we don’t have to expend our energy to merely exist; however it does use up energy to remain in our ghost form”.
Daniel nods, soaking up the information, oh having an apprentice was going to be delightful. “Yeah I’ve notice I get tired after a while”, tilting his head a little at Vlad, “and so we, I, am a halfa?”, and looks to his parents for confirmation as well.
All three nodding readily, Jack beaming, “half a ghost, half a human; that’s what all the ghosts went with! Even if most of ‘em would lie just to amuse themselves”.
Vlad shrugs, “many ghosts are alright enough, particularly the useful ones”.
Daniel frowning, “yeah I don’t think I’m going to be ‘using ghosts’”. Vlad scoffing and waving the boy off, far too moral, this one.
Maddie smiles, pleased, “well you will likely get into fights, Vlad’s made it clear that’s unavoidable, so I fully expect you to take target practice and your martial arts a little more seriously”.
Vlad gesturing with a hand, “and ghost power training, of course. A well aimed ecto-blast will get you much further than a thrown punch”.
“And if I can’t do that?”.
“I’ll be baffled if you can’t, but everything has a work around if you look for it”, grinning all fang, “hold up a hand and imagine that tingling vibration throughout your entire body flow into the air above your palm, condensing into a tight pulsating sphere”.
Daniel blinks but stares at his hand, furrowing his brows in concentration, he jumps a little as a green ecto-blast forms above his palm. Him startling himself, of course, results in him losing focus and sending the blast into the ceiling. Him laughing awkwardly, “oops?”.
Jack smacks him on the back, making the boys wings twitch, “no worries, Danno! You should have seen the amount of things Vladdie set on fire!”. Daniel chuckles, loosening up a little, until Jack grabs his wing to inspect them anyways, “now let’s have a look at these! Since you’re all patched up now!”, and basically pulls the floating Daniel off his stool.
The boy giving both Vlad and Maddie slightly pleading looks, Vlad shakes his head while Maddie gives him a soft smile, “just let your dad get it out of his system”. Daniel groans but does let Jack effectively manhandle him, spinning him in the air and stretching out his wings to inspect them better. Eventually Daniel stuck holding onto the table when Jack decides to see just how long Daniel’s wing span was. They were needlessly long wings, frankly. His humerus bone was practically the length of half of Vlad’s wing. Incredibly showy, like a peacock. He’ll have to see if that’s just for show, or if the boy can put genuine speed and power behind them.
Maddie crossing her arms at her husband, “Jack, dear, that’s enough, you’re going to give him a strain at this point”. Daniel grumbling a, “thanks mom”, when Jack sheepishly lets go of the poor boys wings.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Danny-boy!”.
Daniel glances around awkwardly, “it’s, uh, okay, dad”, rubbing his neck, “it’s better than you being scared of me or trying to hunt me or something”.
Jack’s, “we’d never!”, is thankfully immediate. As it should be. Daniel was his own son after all. Vlad would be quite displeased if he found out they were hunting him in any capacity.
Vlad blinking before smirking, turning his head towards the kitchen entry way, based on sound and scent those friends of Daniel’s have shown up, ears pressed up to the door perhaps. Vlad chuckles meanly, “you two can come in, instead of trying to spy. Your friend is perfectly fine”.
Daniel jerking in the air before zipping over to the door as if it was mere second nature to him already. Vlad is absolutely a bit jealous, not that he would admit to such feelings. Jack elbowing him, “he’s got the hang of this a lot faster than you”. Vlad snarls at the man, it’s a ‘playful’ threat and Jack absolutely knows that.
Meanwhile the door opens, a pale goth and dark-skinned geek poking their heads in; the goth’s scowling and the geek’s nervous. Them both rearing their heads back a little at Daniel’s face being practically right in front of their own, “hey! It’s okay, they’re cool, my uncle’s stupidly vampire themed though”.
Vlad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it’s stylish, boy. And I will not be explaining myself to your friends as well”, waving dismissively at the boy, “feel free to burden yourself with that explanation instead”. Regardless the two teens stare at Vlad, wide-eyed.
“So Danny’s not going to get shot, caged, or strapped down?”
“Danny-man, you’re either extremely lucky or stupidly unlucky, take your pick”.
At least the boy had good friends, ones that were seemingly serious about fighting his parents should they harm him. Good. They made for acceptable playmates.
Daniel blurting out, “did you guys notice I don’t have a freaking shadow anymore?”.
Both the teens snapping their heads down and blinking. Tucker shaking his head, “huh. You’d think that would be more noticeable”.
Vlad transforms himself back human as he walks over, eyeing the two teens and drawling, “you'd be surprised how much most people fail to notice”.
Sam snorts at him, “oh you’re the weird uncle, that explains so much”, pointing at Daniel, “doesn’t it, you weirdo”. Daniel simply pouts fondly at her.
Vlad quirking an eyebrow, “the ‘weird uncle’?”.
Daniel eyes him, still floating in the air, “you say some really strange stuff, okay? Like, you swear using food. That’s weird”.
“Far better than using foul language”.
“Gonna disagree on that one”; Daniel transforming back human and landing on the ground almost gracefully. Vlad sighing when the teen realises he’s sans a shirt, covering up with his wings before running up stairs for a likely baggy tank top. Daniel’s friends actively laughing at him before running into the house fully and chasing the boy up the stairs shouting about getting more ‘blackmail’ photos.
Vlad shaking his head before turning to Jack and Maddie who were watching the teens fondly, “I’m assuming you’re going to be doing quite a bit of sewing to make his clothing wearable for at least the time being”.
Maddie nodding at him, “there’s no way he’ll let me cut up his nasa varsity jacket but otherwise, of course”, frowning a little, “so you think he’ll be okay?”.
Vlad looking back up the stairs, “he seems accepting of it, shifting into comfort easily. With support there would be no reason for him not to be mentally well. Physically? I’d say he’s better off than I was, and his ecto-energy feels stable for a child ghost”. Maddie sighs in happy relief and Jack beams, giving him a thumbs up. Vlad still frowns at them, “you two got lucky with him, do not repeat this”.
Maddie’s, “we won’t”, is at least very firm. Jack nodding right after, looking up the stairs himself, “I can’t believe he’s not upset with us”.
Vlad shakes his head, “he blames himself for it entirely, regardless of that being incorrect. Which would be concerning, if I wasn’t fairly certain that he’s okay with this change. Confused, unsure, and nervous, perhaps. But not upset, angry, or sad”.
Maddie sighing again, “good. That’s good. And I agree, he seems more worried about our reaction than about being the way he is now. Being a halfa”, smiling a little, “though I’m sure he’ll ask a lot of questions”.
Jack nodding strongly, and crossing his arms, “as any curious teen should”.
Daniel’s head pops back out of his bedroom, “Vlad! Can we survive in the void of space?!”.
Vlad absolutely knows that tone meant the boy was going to do something impressively stupid. Flying to space most likely. “Yes. But you’re too new, if you lose your ghost form in space and that high up you’ll be in trouble”. The teen pouts at him, “boo. You suck”, and ducks back into his room.
At least it looked like he found a shirt he could get on.
Vlad giving Maddie and Jack pitying looks, “he’s quite the handful”.
Maddie putting a hand over her face and laughing a little. Jack chuckling loudly, “V-man! You were here when Danny attempted to eat a blob ghost!”.
“I unfortunately remember that and do not understand how that didn’t kill him”.
“Neither do we!”.
Maddie shaking her head and eyeing Vlad, “will you be staying a while?”.
Vlad inclines his head, “oh but of course, Maddie dear”, grinning, “I have a young halfa godson to apprentice after all”.
Jack laughs rather awkwardly, not unlike his son, “just don’t forget he’s our son! Don’t do too much of the parenting for us!”.
Vlad smirking, “I make no promises”; Jack, the utter fool, thinks Vlad’s joking. Vlad is not joking. If he can make an heir out of the boy then all the better, Jack and Maddie were hardly truly good parents even if Vlad himself highly doubts he’d be any better. However, Vlad was a halfa, and so was Daniel. Even if Jack and Maddie were truly great parents they wouldn’t be able to fulfil all his needs or fully relate to him. Vlad can and will.
Maddie sighing, picking up better that Vlad’s intentions weren’t exactly pure. “Please don’t. I know he’s a halfa, like you, but try not to get dangerously possessive of him?”.
He scoffs, moving to head upstairs, sending away his wings to make the stairs and hallway easier to navigate, “oh it’s much too late for that, I’m afraid”.
At least they follow him up, smart. Pointless, but smart. Besides, he doesn’t truly believe he can actually get Daniel as exclusively his or under his thumb in any sense. That boy was too moral and headstrong… and chaotic. Vlad opening the boys door to him standing ‘threateningly’ over his friends, wielding fist fulls of feathers like bombs; his friends already have a noteable amount of black and white feathers on them. Vlad sighing, “Daniel, why are you ripping out your feathers?”; Jack is wheeze laughing and Maddie looks like she thinks she’s won.
Daniel blinks, looking at Vlad but otherwise not moving, fist fulls of feather still held up in the air, “I claim comedic effect?”.
Tucker smirks, spitting out a feather, “he’s trying to suffocate us”.
Samantha’s smirk is far more mean, “i threaded some beads into his feathers earlier, he only just noticed. I am very smug”.
Daniel throws his feathers at her without hesitation. Vlad puts a hand to his face and sighs heavily, this boy was a menace in all the wrong ways and his half death was only going to encourage him.
Then Tucker looks to Vlad, “oh, I hacked your company by the way, just in case you abduct Danny or something”. Then going back to smacking Daniel and his wings, while the boy basically assaults both of his friends with the feathered things. Samantha also taking the time to look at Vlad, pointing aggressively at him, “and I have enough money to have you fully killed by somebody who has nothing”. Daniel smacking her harder with a shouted, “murder is bad!”.
Daniel’s friends were not going to help reel the boy in at all. As much as Vlad loves not being alone any more and the prospect of teaching another halfa, he’s a little concerned over what’s been given to him.
Maddie scowling, putting her hands on her hips, “Danny! You’re going to rip the stitching!”. While Jack cheers this mess on, “you go! Danno!”.
Hmmm, yes Vlad’s plate is going to be very full and he’s gotten himself involved in quite the half dead mess.
End.
Prompts: After the accident, the Fentons can't help but notice something wrong with Danny. And since Danny also has that terrible symptom of "being a teenager", he refuses to tell them anything. So they are reaching out to the only person who could possibly help: an old friend in Wisconsin.
After the accident, Danny no longer has a shadow, and he isn't the first person to notice its absence.
Ghosts have wings. Humans don't.Unfortunately for Danny, his body did not get the memo.
In another universe, Maddie and Jack did visit Vlad in the hospital, and stayed in contact. What happens when Danny has his accident twenty years later?
#danny phantom#phandom#phicphight24#phic phight 24#danny fenton#maddie fenton#tucker foley#sam manson#jack fenton#phantomphangphucker#have a fic suck my dick#my writing#vlad masters#wing au#wing fic#feathers#reveal#identity reveal#badger cereal#mentor vlad#Danny's a little shit#and vlad's not much better#good friends Maddie and Jack#protective sam#protective tucker#danny's accident
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(I like the idea of each of the ‘brothers’ having a part to play in the proxy process. Trender’s ‘clothes’ host microscopic parasites that over a long process work at altering the internals organs. Generally slow moving and work via entering via the nose ears and mouth. Mills only caught this because any sort of physical contact with something living triggers his senses.
Splender is capable of altering mood, in more extreme examples it can completely block the metal damages occurred while under control. Lowering the chances of the true self awakening during ‘work’ due to extreme trauma or stress. Basic conversations are enough to trigger this, and is part of why he’s so personable with everyone.
If I include offender It’s because he’s able to keep people knocked out or make them forget things. Done via holes in his hands that expel a gas based substance. Meaning both trender and splendy can work in a far more direct fashion. This isn’t the default option because it’s addictive, and in a high enough concentration will damage the mind and body beyond possible function. To the point where lung tissue, muscles, and eventually the brain itself with start to break down and almost melt.
Slender himself pulls it all together and is the only one capable of actually controlling the altered humans. With enough enough time and stalking his sickness alone could achieve the same end result. But the brothers together make the process quicker and spreads the influence far further. It also gives a reason for the grumpy old man to put up with their bullshit.)
#offenderman#this is still in the air but at least I do have a reason why I'd do it.#lore posts#creepypasta
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#did i even matter to you? did i ever? do i still? if you see this#you should let me know. i hate the thought that i was nothing at all#even though you hate me. i dont hate you. i really dont. it just feels bad. you just make me feel bad#and upset. i wish things could have gone better#it was inevitable though. and im being dramatic. theres no way to fix this. no way to resolve things#not that i can think of at least#i just wish i could have *some* resolution. an update or something. maybe im just too curious about things that hurt#you probably just talk shit about me. if you talk about me at all#i cant watch videos i used to love. i cant listen to songs i enjoyed. pages of sketches are nothing but a reminder.#ive experienced worse since. but this is the thing that stuck. probably because i was younger? that would make sense#i dont know if you ever cared about me... not really. did you know#every relationship ive been in. the other person has shut me out. avoidance or forgetfulness or attempts at isolation.... im not sure why#its a pattern though. which means it must have something to do with me. im the unchanging variable.you dislike me.or at least i think you do#so surely you can tell me bluntly?#im speaking to air right now. you wont read this. you have no reason to#calamarispeaks#vent#i guess. its more of a letter to someone who will never respond
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i think that about covers the ✨entire population✨
#this started off as a complaint about inconsiderate commuters and my strange coworkers… and somehow ended with my grandparents lmao#idk why but my coworkers seem to really like physical contact for some reason?? i’m not used to it at all man…#like there could be a ton of space behind me but this coworker would walk directly up behind me and pat my back or something? lady pls#or i could be looking at my results and my other coworker would just randomly hug me and i??? lady pls???? i’m so confused#and the thing is… i really really hate being touched by any other person (except my mother. she’s fine) so i’m just (ʘ‿ʘ) throughout it all#and speaking of physical contact… those commuters. man. ಠ‿ಠ#who brings their prams out at like 7.25am anyway? it’s early as balls and the kid’s still asleep 80% of the time anyway#pls take your kids out on a family trip later in the day… yk… when people aren’t trying to squeeze onto the train to get to work???#and they almost always choose to stand right smack in the middle of the train… right in front of the door to boot. at least move in????#and sometimes (the worst times) the kids are obviously old enough to walk around (and are in fact running around the train at that moment)…#…but the parent keeps the pram unfolded in all its oversized glory anyway. like whyyyyyyyyy#so now not only do commuters have to squeeze together because of a lack of space…#…they now have to shuffle around to avoid bumping into the kid. like ughhhhhhhhhhhh i hate trains sm#and also! those people who purposely stand on the side of the escalator that people walk up on and refuse to walk???? hate them too#i’ve missed so many trains because of them ಠ‿ಠ especially if they stop moving right at the end of the escalator (ʘ‿ʘ)#screw trains fr >:( buses are much better!! the air conditioning is better on buses too!!!!!!#life was much better in quarantine ngl. i could shut myself out from the outside world and just ✨thrive✨ in peace…#those overly-specific things in the dni list are all based on my family members and former acquaintances lmao#shoutout to my chopper-wielding border hopping grandpa and self-hammering grandma!!! i barely knew you guys!!!!#wait come to think of it… i have never really had a single conversation with any of my grandparents. whoops.#i don’t even know their names either… double whooooooops#and so that marks the end of my pointless rant for now. i could’ve just summed this up as ‘dni if you’re human’ tbh#i’ve even done like quite a few of these things on my own list do… dni: me??? (ʘ‿ʘ) if only that was possible aha…#…well i didn’t cry while watching dear layla. lol. that’s the one thing i can definitively say i didn’t and will never do—#inedible blubbering#sunday’s 🧂saltfest🧂
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x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ
in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.
warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.
a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!
“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.
He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.
“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”
The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.
During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong.
“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”
Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”
“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.
They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?
However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.
Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”
Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.
“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.
“I’m starting to regret it.”
“Can’t you at least say it again?”
“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”
“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind.
You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.”
“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”
“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”
“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!”
“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”
“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”
Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety.
His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else.
“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”
You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections.
But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.
© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#earthtooz: honkai star rail#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#ratio x reader#dr ratio fluff
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Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 2] - G.S.
Synopsis. “Besides, Toru, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”
“Wanna bet?”
For Satoru, convincing you to take the aphrodisiac chocolate too wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was being shoved into that bathroom stall, cock throbbing, mind spinning - trying not to beg for mercy.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, slight femdom, overstimulation (male), lots of cum, you absolutely ruin Satoru, semi-public sex, subby! Satoru, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, shutting up Gojo Satoru by making him cum in his pants, pet names (darling, my girl), swearing.
Word count. 3.7k
A/N. Can be read as a standalone, but PART 1 HERE.
Bros this was mad hard to write oml. Art by @_3aem on X.
Satoru had everything he needed to absolutely ruin you tonight.
Overpriced Cartier glasses? Check.
Jet-black Hellcat freshened up, ready with a little surprise for you inside? Check.
You, all dolled up and brows furrowed adorably at him? Holy shit, check.
“Toru, if we’ve missed our reservation because you had beef with the neighborhood cat again…”
“He was looking at you wrong! I had to defend your honor!” Dramatic protests falling on deaf ears, Satoru speeds through the darkening city streets, still grumbling under his breath about “cats these days”.
With your fiancé being absolutely swamped with missions recently, you’d been anticipating this night for weeks now.
Little did you know, Satoru had just as much - if not more.
Soon enough, the neon lights of that upscale, new restaurant you’d been absolutely dying to visit recently come into view.
Okay, it’s time.
“Y’know…” he begins, glancing at you with that familiar mirthful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbling to his throat at your knowing stare, he plows on “Remember that one night where I just so happened to come across your special chocolate?”
“You mean swiped from my secret stash?”
“Semantics” he waves off. “But anyway, I was thinking…” he voice trails off mischievously as he swiftly turns to grab the mysterious black bag sitting on the backseat that you’d been eyeing suspiciously ever since you got in the car.
Oh shit, so that’s what he was onto. Eyes widening, “Toru, no.”
He whines, a pout forming on his lips. “C’monnn, no one’s gonna know except me. I want to make this night unforgettable, my girl.”
You raise a brow, “Unforgettable? Toru, your idea of unforgettable will end up with both of us arrested.” After the madness of last time, you’d ignored his sticky note for a reason!
Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to justify - probably to yourself just as much as Satoru, “And just because the aphrodisiac worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”
He wiggles his eyebrows, twinkling eyes still undeterred. “Wanna bet? I’ll do the dishes for all of next month. We’ll never know till we find out, darling.”
You narrow your eyes at the hand already snaking its way inside the bag, faded finger marks from last time still searing into your skin. Catching Satoru’s gaze - behind the amusement, something else shines darkly.
Shit.
Goosebumps erupt down your spine.
A beat passes. One. Two. Only the revving of the engine filling the tense air.
“...two months.”
It’s all Satoru can do to not jump in joy in his seat right now - knowing his girl, you’ll probably take back what you said and immediately bonk him on the head for being so ridiculous.
“Deal.” he mutters lowly, pulling up to the driveway.
A flash of hot pink. In the short time it takes the valet to reach your car, Satoru has already split that too-familiar chocolate, holding out the bigger part to you, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I swear this’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he grins, biting into the chocolate.
God, he was going to be the death of you.
The decadent flavor washes over your tongue, a slight tingling on your tastebuds. But, it’s still just chocolate, right? You scoff - at least you won’t have to do the dishes for two months.
Now, Satoru knows he won’t have to do the dishes for two months.
Ah, how heavenly you’d be, splayed out and begging for mercy underneath him. Heels clacking against the polished tile and your hand warm in his as the maître d’hôtel ushers you both inside, dick twitching in anticipation. Shit, was the chocolate working already?
He risks a glance at how you’re faring - nope, still normal. That’s okay, he’ll be driving you crazy in no time.
---
Okay, maybe he won’t be driving you crazy in no time.
How dare you sit there so gorgeous and unbothered, sipping slowly on your wine while he’s here mind whirling around how he’ll fuck you right here right now on this table without getting arrested for public indecency.
Fuck, it was hitting him hard.
Cock aching, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes bleary - he sighs in frustration, resigning himself to do the dishes for two months.
Why did he even think of this? Damn his big fucking ego, he should’ve never taken that chocolate again. Maybe if he eats you out just right he could lower it to-
A feathery touch on his thigh. Too light for any sort of friction - just enough to set his skin ablaze. So deft that Satoru thinks he must’ve imagined it.
Until there it is again. Soft caress dancing delicately up his thigh.
You.
A shiver creeps down his spine, blood rushing straight to his dick. Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru is speechless - maybe because you’ve reached underneath the table, teasingly sliding a heel along the top of his thigh.
“…darling…”
“Hmm?”
He blinks away the haze in his eyes, raising them to meet yours. “Wha-”
Oh. Oh, fuck.
What has he gotten himself into?
Eyes half-lidded, brows furrowed, and looking into his soul with a predatory glint that jolts the great Gojo Satoru right to his very core - and to his throbbing cock. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Maybe he should just beg for his life right now.
Minutes tick by - or maybe it was seconds - Satoru is clueless. Mind only focused on the heel inching closer and closer, dangerously near to where he needed you the most. A smug smirk curls your pretty lips as his mouth drops into a soft oh.
The air crackles with an unspoken tension - his hips trying to subtly move you towards the erection furiously straining against his pants. He needed it so bad. It’s fucking pathetic, he knows. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as your sole grazes his aching head. Pressing down. Hard.
“Fuck!”
Stomach flipping - before Satoru could fully process what the fuck was happening - he cums embarrassingly in thick spurts that pool on his pants, soaking right through the fabric, probably smearing on your new heels.
Head spinning, he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, muffling the desperate moans threatening to escape his lips.
He grinds his hips in shallow, mindless motions in a desperate attempt for more friction.
Instead, he gets the opposite.
“Behave, Toru.” you warn, swiftly resting your heel back on the floor, voice strained with something that makes his sensitive dick quiver animalistically.
You huff out a chuckle at the almost-inaudible whimper of disappointment that rips from his throat. It’s laughable, really, he was supposed to be the one ruining you. This was so not fucking suave.
Face burning - whether due to the chocolate or embarrassment at the warm patch on his pants, he doesn’t even know - Satoru wishes the Earth would swallow him up whole. Would it be overkill to just teleport outta here?
The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his little reverie is your pretty lips forming into a tut. “Now now, Toru. It’s rude to make a mess at a restaurant. Why don’t we go to the restrooms and get you cleaned up, hm?”
Oh. Shit.
A firm grip on his arm, his hands desperately covering his crotch.
He was not going to make it out of this alive.
Honestly, it wasn’t hard to bribe the waitress into letting you follow into the restroom after your fiancé - and put up an Out of Order sign promptly afterward. The actual hard part was trying not to rip off his clothes and give into your desires before you two even made it there. But you couldn’t let anyone else see him like that, of course.
You were sure that if you had Satoru’s powers then you would’ve hollow purpled everyone here and taken him already.
You were going to ruin him.
Mind running a mile a minute, Satoru wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d just teleported to the restroom. If he was in a better state of mind he might’ve even admired the decor.
“My girl.” he breathes out, voice ragged. It’s all that is said before your lips are on his.
It was like a fever dream - the bruising urgency of your lips, your aching pussy, and the heat of the stall as your quickened breaths mingle in a desperate dance. Your tongue intertwining with his.
Manicured nails ripping his shirt open, you don’t have half the mind to register the designer buttons hitting the floor.
Satoru’s lips hazily chase yours as you pull away delicate strings of spit snapping just as quickly as your sanity.
Your mouth waters at Satoru’s chest in all its chiseled glory, creamy skin peeking out from whatever remnants of the shirt were clinging to his sculpted shoulders. You wanted to ruin him.
“You dirtied my heels, Toru.” you frown, mockingly innocent. A choked-up gasp leaves his throat as you snake a hand down to firmly grip the erection straining against Satoru’s wet pants. Unmoving. “What shall we do about that, hmm?”
“Ah! Please, my girl.”
“Please what? Use your words, Toru.”
“Please. Wanna cum so bad.”
Satoru learned the hard way that he could never turn back after uttering those words.
Though, he already had an inkling once you immediately slam him against the stall door, fumbling with his belt, nails digging hard into his prominent v-line. “If you say so, Toru. Better not stop till you’re shooting blanks.”
The only thing that registers in his mind is the deadbolt echoing throughout the empty bathroom and his still-rock hard cock throbbing in your hands.
“Ah- hah! Fuck.” low groans leave his throat at each jerky movement down his length.
Head thrown back, pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, your tits pressing against his body as your hands urgently move along his veined length - up, up, up.
Your thumb harshly teases his flushed head, spreading the precum from his leaking tip lewdly. “Oh God.”
His knees buckle, hands slamming against the top of the stall hard enough to make the walls tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. Mind spinning, he doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore.
“Toru~ Gonna let me join in on the fun?” your dangerous purr sends his cock twitching, breath hot against his ear.
Your cunt quivers, slick soaking your panties and trailing down your legs at the pornographic moans spilling from his lips as you fucked his thick cock with your fist. You wanted him so badly it was driving you insane.
Straddling a muscled thigh, your clothed core meets the fabric of his pants. It was already ruined, so what was another stain?
You grind your hips down on him, hard. Humping him like an animal in heat.
Your slick seeping into the fabric of his leg. Harsh texture stimulating your needy cunt so painfully good. Swollen folds parting, mewls of pleasure leave your swollen lips as your clit catches on the rough fabric of his overly expensive pants. Over and over.
Distantly, you register a strong hand tugging roughly on the thin fabric of your panties - easily ripping it and letting it fall to god-knows-where.
Your hand doesn’t let up either, milking Satoru’s cock mercilessly the way you’d been dying to ever since you stepped foot into his restaurant. Your head spins, hips moving so animalistically on Satoru’s thigh.
A hand reaches down to sensually massage his heavy balls, squeezing and pressing hard circles - just the way you knew he liked it.
“Oh, my girl. Always so good t’me- Ah! Hngh, gonna-”
Satoru doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s pumping hot ropes of seed that decorate your pretty hands. Hips fucking up into you desperately.
You’re not far behind, juices squirting all over that expensive fabric, pooling on the tiled ground with a drip! drip! drip! that bounces off the walls of the restroom.
You two were so fucking loud.
But right now, you wouldn’t even mind if anyone walked in to see your Satoru so debauched - as long as they see you fucking the soul out of him as well.
It wasn’t enough.
“You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you, Toru?”
A shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his dick. “What? W-wait, darling. Fuck- Oh!” the strained words tumble out of Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips as you push down his soaked pants, kneeling to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his twitching, thick base.
“I won’t be merciful, Toru.”
Ah, you could do this forever.
Nipping teasingly till you’re satisfied with the bite marks decorating his pelvis, you pool the saliva in your mouth, spitting a long stream into his furiously flushed head.
Once. Twice. Mixing enticingly with his precum, trailing down his length. “Ah! Hngh- oh, darling. So sensitive-” he bucks his hips into you, moaning loudly.
“You can do it f’me, Toru.” you murmur darkly against his twitching tip. Satoru keens as you take him until his fat head hits the back of your throat, pulsing around your warm mouth.
Your fiancé’s choking on his breaths more than you as you hollow your mouth, bobbing up and down at a ruthless pace. Gagging, you shove his throbbing dick all the way in with a desperation that eclipses the need for air, till you’re nose-deep in those tufts of snowy hair.
“Oh, darling. Jus’ like that. Losing m’mind.” he whines.
Your pussy quivers at Satoru’s slightly salty taste, making you moan around his rock-hard length. Drool and precum dribble down the corner of your mouth, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. It was debauched. It was messy. And it was exactly how you wanted him.
Tonguing Satoru’s sensitive slit in a delicate dance, you feel drunk off his sinful moans as you suck on him desperately. Breathless. Craving for more.
Looking up to see a delicate streak of tears falling down his pretty face at the overstimulation, your cunt clenches around nothing. Fuck, you could just devour him.
“Cum, Toru.”
It was too much for him-
Tight balls twitching sensitively, he cums onto your ready tongue. Fucked out whimpers leave his lips, tears clinging to his long, white lashes as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick, white seed.
Ah, he was always your favorite taste. Tasted so good - so good that you could cum untouched.
And you do.
Eyes rolling to the back of your head and pussy clamping down on nothing as you reach your high.
You milk his cock ruthlessly, relishing in the thick cum flowing down your throat. But it still wasn’t enough.
Removing yourself off his dick with a lewd pop! you reach a hand to grab Satoru’s flushed throat, nails placed right over his thundering pulse. With a single tug, the great Gojo Satoru is on his knees before you, in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant.
Walls still quivering, you stand over him, connecting your sweaty forehead - and your mouth - with his.
Kiss-bitten and smeared with your lipstick, Satoru’s lips are soft - or maybe that’s the cum coating yours. A part of you delights in his half-lidded, fucked out gaze as your eyes bore into his - does he even know what he’s doing anymore?
Hot seed flowing down his throat, Satoru can do nothing else but kneel there and take it. He feels lightheaded, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock as you suck on his tongue. This was driving him insane. You were insane.
And he fucking loved it.
“You d-drive me insane, my girl.” his words muffled by your hand still around his throat. His voice cracks with sensitivity in a way he would definitely be embarrassed about if he were in the right mind.
Yet, how could he ever be with the slow, feral smile that spread across your beautiful face?
Leaning down, you whisper lowly against his ear. “I’m the same, Toru.”
Maybe it’s your words, and the hot breath that sends shivers down his spine. Or maybe it’s the way you lift your dress so alluringly - cunt dripping on full display, slick trailing down your legs.
All Satoru knows is, he’s surging forwards. He’s got your front pressed against the cold wall, cock twitching to life and bullying its way through your swollen folds.
Mindlessly, a strong hand smacks against the stall as Satoru tries to keep himself steady. Too drunk off of you - off of your whimpers of his name, and the feeling of your plush walls clamping down on his throbbing erection, struggling to accommodate his size despite being so dripping wet.
He doesn’t give a fuck.
“Hngh- S’tight. Oh, fuck! S-sucking my cock back hah- in s-so needily”
Ramming in and out of your hole at a merciless cadence, Satoru’s balls smack your clit so animalistically. You two feel like a pair of fucking animals.
Shudders of overstimulation and pleasure wrack his body. Chest heaving, his blown-out eyes roll to the back of his head at the rapid, desperate thrusts inside your warm core.
Pulling out all the way to slam back in mercilessly, Satoru could pass out at the sight of your ass jiggling as it arches to meet the rhythm of his hips.
“God, m’girl. Gonna- gonna cum ah! Fill this pussy the way you want-” he groans raspily into the heady air of the stall, exhausted cock shooting wispy strings of cum that fill you up - some missing as he pumps into you, spilling out to paint your swollen folds white.
Before he knows it, a low hiss leaves his throat as you remove yourself off of his furiously pulsing cock - only to shove him seated on the commode.
You take a split-second to admire your gorgeous fiancé - face flushed as much as the prettily leaking tip of his throbbing cock, eyes dazed and miles away, curtained by his sweaty white locks. A delicate trail of drool made its way down the corner of his ruby, kiss-bitten lips. Exactly how you wanted him.
What a fucking picture. Maybe you should take that chocolate more often…
“Toru~ Remember what I said? You’re not tapping out, are you?” you hum, eyes narrowing at the way his erection twitches so ferally at your dangerous tone.
“Ah- don’t know- Can’t, please.”
You loom dangerously close, a hand reaching out to mockingly push his cheeks together, drool pooling at your fingertips. “I’ve told you before, Toru. Use your words. Please what?”
“M-mercy, please!” pathetic pleas muffled by your hand.
“Mercy?”
“Mercy!”
“No mercy for you, my darling Toru.”
The great Gojo Satoru, begging for mercy, will face none at your hands.
You straddle his muscled legs, shivering with sensitivity. “Ah! Hah- Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-” he whines nonstop as his quivering tip teases your swollen, messy folds. In one, fluid motion, you sheath him fully in your dripping cunt.
Ah, you feel so full.
You relish in the way he twitches instinctively inside you. Steadying yourself using Satoru’s shoulders, you drag your cunt along his length, his prominent veins grazing that one spot inside you. Pulling out till his thick head teases your entrance, you drop down - inch by inch - over and over.
Satoru thinks he could cry right now - or maybe he already is. He doesn’t know, nor does he care - not when you’re so beautiful and fucked out, nails digging into his shoulders and heart eyes palpable in your gaze as you ride his sensitive cock into insanity.
He can’t stop the ragged moans that escape his swollen lips, head thrown back and hips bucking up exhaustedly into you to meet your every bounce. A hand is at his throat, pulling your face to his, “Don’t run away, Toru~”
He felt so raw. More a feral beast than a man as he watches his abused cock get swallowed up over and over by your wet pussy.
If he thought his dick was broken after this time then it’s really unsalvageable now.
He wanted to run away. He wanted more. He wanted you to keep looking at him with that fucking predatory gaze that made a carnal part of him twitch so good. He wanted to cum.
“I wan’- I wanna cum, please, my girl.” Satoru gasps out, teary eyes blown and looking up at you so delicately.
“Cum?”
“Yes.”
“Cum, Toru.”
Maybe it was the glint of fondness in your eyes, maybe it was the piercing of teeth as you bit down hard into the crook of his neck. Or maybe it was the way your snug cunt clamped down on him so sinfully as you cum as around him. But Satoru is immediately bucking up into your hips - reaching his climax, if you can even call it that. Poor, exhausted cock cumming dry. “Ah- Cumming- M’cumming hgnh-”
Satoru doesn’t even know if he feels his orgasm, just waves of pleasure that overwhelm him as he rides it out on your cunt.
Ah, he thinks if heaven was a person then it would be you.
Maybe he’s died already.
“Toru? Open your eyes, darling.”
Slowly opening the eyes that he didn’t even realize he had furiously scrunched closed, Satoru slowly blinks his vision back.
An angel?
“No, Toru, your fiancé.” you huff out a laugh. Oh shit, he said that out loud?
Head still reeling from, well, everything - the great Gojo Satoru can do nothing else but sit there, exhausted and fucked out of his mind as you slowly remove yourself off his twitching cock. He’s never felt so vulnerable - so ruined.
Ah, someone remind him to never let you have a bite of that chocolate every again.
A low hiss leaves him, along with a few tears that later he swears were never there.
As you tenderly clean both yourselves up in the humid stall, Satoru thinks he’s never been handled with so much care. Ah, he loves your gentle hands. He loves you.
“I love you too, Toru.” you whisper into the intimate silence. Oh, shit, he said that out loud again?
Your beautiful laugh, “Yes, you did, Toru.” Throwing away the used tissues, you grin “Y’know they’ve probably brought out our food by now.”
Absent-mindedly, “Mhm?”
“I was thinking I wanted chocolate for dessert.”
A/N. Oh Satoru, you poor, innocent fool…
Also this turned out longer than expected. Reblogs so so appreciated!
Plagiarism not authorized.
Taglist:
@sage-ove @mo0nforme @thirtykiwis @planetzetra
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!
I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3
Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader
summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao
warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13
wc: 3.5k ish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.
Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.
Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.
Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.
It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.
"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.
"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."
Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.
"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"
"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"
"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"
"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."
"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."
"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.
"I could do this all day, princesa. "
You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.
~~~
You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.
You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.
He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.
You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.
That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.
You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.
"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.
"You okay?"
He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."
You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."
He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."
"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."
~~~
As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.
Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.
Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.
It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.
You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.
You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.
You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.
It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.
"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"
You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.
"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.
He stretches out his hand, and you take it.
"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."
Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.
"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"
"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.
"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.
"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."
The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.
And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.
Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.
~~~
He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.
You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.
He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.
He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.
You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.
"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.
You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.
You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.
"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.
He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.
He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.
"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.
Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."
The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.
You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.
~~~
It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.
He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.
Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.
He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.
When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.
So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.
He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.
"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"
"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.
You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.
"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"
Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"
"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .
"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.
"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.
You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.
He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"
You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.
"Do you want to?"
You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.
"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."
You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.
"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.
Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.
You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.
"Fuck, Miguel."
"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.
You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.
"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.
"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."
His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.
" M-Miguel …"
He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.
" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"
You nod frantically with a stifled sob.
"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."
"...fuuck you."
" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."
"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.
"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."
" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."
"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"
"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.
He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.
You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.
"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."
You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.
You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.
He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.
Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.
"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.
"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"
"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."
All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.
"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."
_
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#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#smut#spiderman 2099 x reader#light angst#kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader#headcanon#miguel o'hara headcanons#jealousy
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Desert Dust | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller.
Warnings: Joel is a consent king in this one. No age gap mentioned (make it your own). Self-deprecation. Toxic coworkers. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Objectification of Joel by readers coworker. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). References to shitty past hookups. Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Size kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.
W/C: ~8K. Sorrrrrrry, not sorry?
A/N: Hi, hello. It's been a hot minute since I've been here! I took a hiatus for the past few months because life was, well, life and I was busy getting married. Happy to be back. This one was inspired by a drive through the Arizona desert. Special thanks to @syd-djarin for being a slut with me on this one.
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications | Read Joel's POV
Humans rely on cooperation, communication, and mutual aid for survival and well-being. Without that, it’s like being cast adrift in a hostile sea without the safety net of community and companionship.
You know this.
And so that’s why you stay, that’s why you’ve always stayed.
Even if most of your days feel lonely, at least you have the comfort of predictability.
++++
"I’m goin' on my break, Tracy," you call out, tossing the words casually over your shoulder as you grab your hoodie and a pack of American Spirit cigarettes from behind the counter. Sometimes you think the only reason you still have the damn vice is for the excuse to step out of the suffocating walls of the grease-drenched building they call a restaurant.
Tracy responds with a touch too much of feigned enthusiasm, pouring a steady stream of black liquid into the mug of the customer sitting in the booth before her.
With a nod of acknowledgment, you slip out the restaurant's back door, the hinges creaking softly in protest as you step into the crisp Arizona air. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty ground as you light up your cigarette, the flame dancing in the breeze.
As you inhale deeply, the familiar taste of tobacco fills your lungs, calming your nerves and grounding you in the present moment. Leaning against the weathered brick wall, your thoughts drift as wisps of smoke curl lazily into the sky.
In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of laughter and chatter drifting from inside, a comforting reminder of the community that surrounds you. Here, amidst the tumbleweeds and endless blue skies, is a place you’ve called home since you ran away from yours at sixteen. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something is always better than nothing, right? People know you by name when you go to the grocery store, and know your order at the only coffee shop in town – big-city girls don’t get that.
As you take one last drag from your cigarette, you try to summon feelings of gratitude for what you do have, but as the smoke dissipates into the desert air, a lingering sense of restlessness gnaws at the edges of your mind.
It's only when you stamp out the cigarette in the dirt below, watching the embers fade into darkness, that you dare to entertain the notion that perhaps you could have more.
++++
You step back into the restaurant, and your eyes adjust to the fluorescent lights above, a stark contrast from the natural light of the sun. Carefully tucking your hoodie away and readjusting your apron strings, you prepare to dive back into work.
As you glance around, you notice Tracy frantically pacing back and forth behind the bar, her demeanor tinged with a hint of frazzled energy. It's not the busiest you've ever been, but for her, every customer that walks through the door feels like a tidal wave of chaos – especially when it’s just you two on the floor.
With a sympathetic smile, you nod in understanding as she thrusts a stack of menus into your hands, followed by a piping hot coffee pot. "Be a doll and go take table three’s order, will ya?" she says, her voice tinged with urgency. Before you can even acknowledge her request, she’s off, stacking her forearms with plates, yelling that she’ll be right there honey to the patrons by the door.
You make your way over to the table, weaving through the maze of booths and tables with practiced ease. As you approach, you notice a lone figure sitting hunched over in a worn leather jacket, eyes fixed on the menu in front of him. He sits up to full height and adjusts himself in the booth, eyes still on the sticky plastic in front of him, giving you a full view of his side profile.
Fuck – he’s gorgeous. Handsome in a way that unmoors you.
Rugged, weathered charm exudes from him. He turns to look at you and oh. His salt-and-pepper curls frame a face weathered by sun and wind, a beard streaked with grey adding an air of distinguished maturity. His eyes are soft and brown, enveloped by small creases in the corners.
Your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, and with the coffee pot in hand, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in the pit of your stomach, settling there like a stack of pancakes eaten way too fast.
Clearing your throat, you offer him a tentative smile. Get a grip – he’s just another customer, you silently plead with yourself.
"Hi," you say, your voice a little softer than usual. "Can I get you something to drink?"
As his eyes meet yours, a brief but intense connection crackles between you. There's something in his gaze, a depth that you can't quite decipher, leaving his thoughts shrouded in mystery. His face remains stony, and unreadable, like the weathered cliffs that dot the desert landscape.
Your breath hitches in your throat as you follow his eyes drifting down your chest, lingering for a moment on the nametag pinned to the worn cotton of your uniform. Heat rises to your cheeks under his scrutiny. You wish you would have opted for your cleaner uniform this morning. You’ve never been one to care too much about your looks, mostly because nobody looks at you, not really. All catcalls from drunk men in bars and the occasional flirty customer. But you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the attention he’s giving.
His eyes finally settle on the coffee pot in your hand, a subtle shift in focus that breaks the spell of tension between you. "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, his voice honey-thick, low, and raspy like the rumble of distant thunder.
You nod silently, the words caught in your throat as you turn to pour him a steaming cup of coffee.
“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper, letting the corners of your lips turn up into a small, cordial, smile.
“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”
Walking away, you can’t help but notice the feeling of the weight of his gaze lingering on you long after you do.
He sits in silence, nursing his coffee with a quiet intensity that commands attention. His presence seems to cast a shadow over the room, drawing the gaze of both patrons and staff alike. You steal glances at him between customers and try not to read into the fact that his eyes are usually on you by the time you find him. He’s not staring – he couldn’t be – why would he be? You shove the thought down and focus on your tasks at hand, him calling you sweetheart playing like a broken record in your mind, over and over.
Tracy, usually bustling about with the frenetic energy of a hummingbird, is unusually attentive to him. She stops by his table more often than necessary, refilling his cup with a gentle touch and addressing him with a warmth you've rarely seen her reserve for anyone else. You swear you even saw her push her tits up behind the wall before going out to him – but you can’t blame her, you’d probably do the same if you had as much to work with as she does.
As you work behind the bar counter, wiping down tables and clearing plates, Tracy tries to engage you in conversation about the mysterious stranger. "Been a long time since we've had a man like that in here," she says, a hint of gossip in her voice, wrapped pretty in a bow of objectification. She reminds you of a praying mantis, attempting to draw in her prey before she eats him.
"Yeah," you murmur, not quite wanting to talk about him, especially not with her.
Excusing yourself, you slip into the bathroom, the wooden door offering a momentary respite. Leaning against the slightly sticky surface, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But despite your efforts, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but feel the twisty weird tug that pools in your lower belly, and the uptick in your heart rate. You attempt to fix your hair and pinch your cheeks to add some volume to your face. You slip on a touch of chapstick and assess yourself. This is so fucking stupid. He’s a customer. Just a customer. You’re just bored, horny, and alone.
But maybe he is, too?
No. Stop.
After a moment, you emerge from the bathroom, only to find his table empty, a worn $20 bill – more than enough to cover his check – left behind as a silent farewell. Your heart sinks at the realization that he's gone, slipping away like a ghost in the night. Shit.
You didn't even catch his name, and now he's just another fleeting memory, a stranger passing through your life like a whisper in the wind. And though you try to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that you'll forget about him by morning.
But when dawn breaks the next day, he’s the first thought that crosses your mind.
++++
The days turn into weeks, each blending seamlessly into the next in the endless cycle of small-town life. But amidst the monotony of routine, there's a flicker of anticipation that ignites in your chest every time you step foot into the restaurant – the hope that he might, too.
Stupid, silly little small-town girl.
You’re in the middle of bussing a rather messy table, throwing empty plates and glasses into a bucket after the lunch rush when the sound of bells above the door and heavy boot steps echoes through the restaurant. Not looking up from the table, you yell out take a seat wherever you want, throwing the final pieces of flatware into the bin. Raising it to your hip, your attention finally snaps to the customer and fuck –
You freeze there.
His hand lifts in a simple greeting.
His presence is a magnetic force that shifts the air in the room. Clad in the same worn leather jacket and a dark tee, he exudes a silent, sturdy confidence. You know nothing about him, but you feel like you’d trust him with your life.
“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say, trying to hide your smile, your excitement.
He’s a customer. Not a bored and horny customer. Just a customer.
As he settles into the booth next to the window, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You greet him again with a smile, your voice warm with genuine affection, and he nods in return, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary.
But before you can exchange more than a few words, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. She's quick to bring him a menu, bring him a coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming.
You watch from afar, a pang of frustration chewing at the edges of your composure like a moth to cloth in an old closet. It's as if Tracy has staked her claim on him, leaving little room for anyone else to form a connection. And yet, despite her best efforts, you can still feel the weight of his attention on you, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this silent dance of whatever the fuck this is.
You think that maybe it’s all in your head – maybe he is into Tracy, and you’re confusing his affection for something it’s not. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lord knows you’re no stranger to having one too many vodka sodas and pining after the affection of the first person who looks at you, crying in the passenger seat of a truck of some guy who gave you attention hours before.
Lord know how many nights you check your phone every three seconds just to be disappointed. Too busy begging for the love of someone who doesn’t want you, and never will. Yet you’re just so hopeful. Hopeful that one day it might not feel this way, hopeful that someone will want you back.
You wonder if you want so desperately to be seen, that you’d twisted every lingering glance, smile, and hello, for something it’s not.
When you enter the dining room, your heart once again sinks when you notice him rising from his booth, getting ready to leave. His eyes catch yours and you give him a small wave goodbye. He holds yours while he tucks something under his coffee cup, giving you a nod, letting you know that he wants you to pick it up. His face is unreadable when he eventually walks out.
Walking over to the table, you notice cash tucked neatly under an empty coffee mug. But you notice something else, too. A worn business card for Joel Miller, CEO of Miller Brothers Contracting. It’s a simple card, just his name and an email on the front. But when you turn it over, you’re surprised to find a phone number scribbled on the back.
Maybe it’s not all in your head.
++++
Later that night, standing in the dark alley of the restaurant, the cement damp from the afternoon rain, Tracy's words hang heavy in the air like a dense cloud of cigarette smoke. You listen in silence as she talks about him, her tone laced with a confidence that borders on arrogance.
"I think I'm gonna ask him to get a drink," she says, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. "I think he's into me. I mean, come on, who else stops in and only orders coffee, and leaves a tip like he does? Even caught him looking at my ass once."
Her words cut through the stillness of the desert night, harsh and abrasive in contrast to the quiet solitude that surrounds you. Tracy has always been one to flaunt her looks, to revel in the attention of men like Joel who pass through the diner's doors. There aren’t many.
But as you listen to her speak, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a silent warning that this pursuit of Joel may lead to heartbreak for one or both of you. You've seen the way he looks at you, the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one else is watching. You slip your hand into the apron and thumb over the paper of his business card.
You want to warn her, to tell her to tread carefully, but the words catch in your throat like smoke caught in a breeze. Instead, you offer her a weak smile, masking the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.
"Yeah, Tracy," you say, your voice tinged with forced enthusiasm. "Go for it. You deserve someone who appreciates you."
But as she stubs out her cigarette and heads back into the restaurant you can't help but smirk knowing he gave his card to you.
It’s finally your turn to be wanted.
But you don’t call, or text him. You want to, you do, but you don’t know what to say, or where to begin. You’re so out of practice when it’s something that matters. It’s easier to pretend he still wants you if you don’t break the illusion—or that’s the lie you tell yourself, anyway.
++++
Some weeks later, you find yourself alone in the empty restaurant – Tracy having called out for the night. It’s slow. Way too slow. The late hour weighs heavy on your shoulders. George, the cook, went home almost an hour ago. You work to check off the tasks on your list before you leave for the night, and eventually accomplish everything except filling the salt shakers.
You could have sworn you turned off the neon open sign and locked the doors until the familiar sound of bells chimes through the empty restaurant.
“We’re closed,” you yell out, twisting the final cap on the last salt shaker.
Your eyes flicker up to find a large man stumbling through the door, his presence heavy with the unmistakable scent of whiskey and cigarettes. He doesn’t look so good, his skin is pale and damp, eyes glassed over.
You rise from your booth, a sense of unease prickling at the back of your mind as you approach him. Despite your better judgment, you tell him to take in any booth of his choice, while you head behind the bar to grab him a glass of water. When you set it down in front of him, he bristles at your gesture, his words slurred and tinged with aggression at the fact that you brought him fucking water. Your patience wears thin as he rebuffs your offer, his tone sharp and abrasive.
"Just trying to help you out here" you snap, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice. You’re not sure where the irritation is coming from, but it feels right – natural – a built-in defense mechanism. But instead of backing down, he responds with a menacing snarl, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist in a bruising hold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, his grip tightening with each futile attempt.
"Let me go," you plead, the fear evident in your voice as he rises from the booth and crowds you against a nearby table, condiments spilling over the edge of the table. His hands move to grip your upper arms with a forceful intensity. You stumble slightly, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, your head turned to the side to avoid having to look at him. “I’ll tell you what, you little bitch –”
You feel the rapid beat of your pulse, the thrum of blood in your veins. You struggle against the man. Your inner voice screams danger, but just as you feel the panic rising in your chest, the familiar sound of chimes rings through your ears. Within seconds, a new figure looms into view, his broad frame casting a shadow over the scene unfolding before you – to you. With a swift movement, he pulls the man off of you, his voice a growl of warning as he asserts his dominance.
“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” Joel says, voice low and threatening.
It's him.
Relief floods through you at the sight of him, a silent thank you echoing in your mind as he stands between you and the aggressor. And as he faces off with the man, his protective stance speaks volumes. Your mind goes a little fuzzy from the adrenaline as you watch the man struggle in his grasp, followed by a slur of cuss words, ultimately ending in Joel punching him in the face, the harsh sound of bone to face.
It shouldn’t turn you on, the violence of it all, but it sort of does. The outward display in your defense appeals to the primitive, underived part of your brain, the way a knight would defend a maiden’s honor.
He drags the man out of the establishment, and you hear him tell him to get the fuck out and never come back.
He locks the door and turns to face you. Your arms come up to grab yourself in an instinctual hug, your body is a little shaky from the interaction. Without saying anything, he walks over to you, bringing both of his hands to the sides of your arms – the same place where the man had grabbed you – but his touch feels different. Gentle, reassuring, safe.
“You alright?” he says, a deep crease between his brow as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with concern.
“I’m alright – tha,” your words break a little, and you start to feel hot tears cling to your lashline, “thank you,” you manage to blurt out, avoiding looking at him in the eyes, not wanting him to see yours all teary.
He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You bring your hand to meet his on your cheek and notice a sticky sensation under your palm. You grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Jesus, if his hand looks like this, what must that guy’s face look like?
"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. "It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he reassures, but you can tell he's probably lying.
"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.
"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.
"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.
Interlacing your fingers with his on his left hand, you guide him through the restaurant.
Navigating through the kitchen, smelling of oil and french fries, you caution him to watch his step on the freshly mopped yet always greasy floors.
In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. Joel leans against the desk, quietly observing you. "Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.
He stands silently, watching as you work to open the kit, his eyes fixed on you, particularly when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth. "This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care.
“You can make it up to me later,” he whispers. His tone, the intention behind his words sends an exciting zap down your spine. There’s shared silence. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, that same feeling of raw want, painted with uncertainty, settles in your stomach.
“Can I ask you something,” he says, and you flick your eyes up to meet his for a moment before lowering them back down his hand. You let out a soft mhmm in response, knowing his question before he’s even asked it.
“Why didn’t you call?”
The boldness of his question stops you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.
“I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. You lean in close enough to catch the scent of him – cedarwood and fresh cotton, the earthy scent of desert dust clinging to his clothes.
“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished.
You stand before him, looking at his chest and the bare skin on his neck that’s dotted with freckles, avoiding his eyes.
“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Have you always been this self-deprecating?
His hands float up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze fixed on a button on his shirt in front of you.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
The bandaged hand trails up over the side of your body, and his fingers land under your chin, his thumb tilting you up to look at him. You’re sure you must look like a mess, eyes tired from a long shift, mascara smudged from your tears. How pathetic you must look. The pad of his thumb caresses over your lips and you hold your breath.
There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.
But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.
But no.
Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.
“Joel,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. His thumb is still on your lower lip.
“Ki–” Before you can continue, his hand drops, and his lips crash into yours and he groans. He wants to rip you open, eat you raw, to devour every inch of you. You’ve had plenty of kisses, but none like this – none full of such heat, a fiery intensity, a need. He wants you. Joel wants you.
He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and you let out a little whimper. The sweet sound goes straight to his already hardening cock. He holds you tighter to his chest, thick and capable hands on your hips as he dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as a man his size can. He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Your breath hitches in your throat as he nips at your jaw, eliciting a soft moan from you. And oh – he likes that.
“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, his voice a little wrecked already and he’s barely touched you.
His hand trails up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra you’ve had for far too long. You would be embarrassed about him seeing it if you weren’t so aroused, drunk on his touch. You continue to let out little moans as he kisses your neck, and thumbs at your nipple beneath the fabric.
“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest.
His words melt into you like butter, making you feel all soft and weak-limbed, fuzzy in a way that’s new to you.
“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. The words come naturally for a girl who never really had more than a one-night stand or some shitty fuck from a guy who drank too much whiskey – his dick half-hard, promising he’ll rock your world.
That does it for him.
Joel’s cock is rock hard, with an almost painful stiffness. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat.
But as much as he needs that right now, he knows he has an obligation. To make you feel good. To make you feel good about yourself in every way.
He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.
“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. If you weren’t so hazy you might’ve made a joke about him only having one good hand at the moment. He would chuckle at that, you briefly think, before his husky voice speaks again.
“Can I undress you?” he asks. You’ve never been asked that, most of the other men we’re quick just to take your clothes off. Too sloppy, too eager – careless. You’re starting to realize how hot consent is.
You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, all while Joel unbuttons your skirt. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. As a reflex, you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body, wishing you could blend into the wallpaper.
“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at.
He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from the significance of the moment.
“No need’ta hide from me,” he assures you. You believe him.
You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast.
“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. You have of course played with your nipples when you touched yourself, but you’ve never had a man pay so much attention to them, to be gentle and firm at the same time.
He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering sweet praises as he does. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls that gather on the back of his head as he works his way down to the band of your panties. Much like your bra, you’d wish you opted for a cuter pair of underwear. Not like you own any anyway, but something tells you he could give two shits about that right now.
On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you with a softness you’ve never seen in a man, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue.
“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission.
You pause with your mouth agape a bit, not quite sure what to say. Every fiber of your being wants you to say yes, yes, yes. But you’re nervous – you haven’t shaved, and you remember Tracy saying something about men not liking hair on women, especially not on their pussy — a man won’t even eat you out if you’ve not been properly groomed.
What if you taste weird? What if he doesn’t like it? You’ve only been eaten out once if you can even classify it as such, and he was down there for maybe two seconds before he was rising and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, claiming whatever you’re wet enough before shoving his rather average cock into your pussy, paying no mind to you or your pleasure.
“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away, trying to give Joel an out.
His prominent nose presses into your mound and he moans, moans, at your smell.
“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, the truth behind his voice evident in his tone. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans.
He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame, he thinks.
“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. You’re determined to not let the negative thoughts swirling in your head win.
“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire.
He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.
“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin. He looks up at you once again, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, before once again returning his attention to your cunt.
He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. You look down at him with lusty doe eyes and bite your lower lip in anticipation, still a little nervous. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second, before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.
“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most.
“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.
“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. It’s so precise, so overwhelming, so fucking good.
Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world goes a little fuzzy at the edges of your vision. You’ve had an orgasm before, you think, but you don’t remember it feeling like this.
You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows for a brief moment and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks.
Until –
“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height.
“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that he’s not wiping it away. He wants you. Joel wants you.
The daze of your release wears off, hurling you back down to earth. Joel kept his promise, he did show you what you’re worthy of. No more mediocre, subpar sex for you. You are worthy of that. Deserve that and more. It’d be rude of you not to return the favor.
On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, wanting nothing more than to be a practitioner of pleasure, to elicit another good girl from him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.
“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask, feeling a sting of rejection.
“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.
You bring your palm to cup him through his jeans and he groans, your hands trace over the thick shape. He’s big. You watch as his jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. You can’t help but feel excited when you feel a damp spot on his jeans, the place where his pre-come has gathered.
“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says with intensity, an urgency in his voice. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop.
Truly seeing him, the sight of his heavy cock in all its glory, makes your mouth water a little.
“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. You think you might actually feel him there when he’s inside you at this rate.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. You get the memo. He lifts you and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk behind you, your damp skin sticking to the mess of customer receipts and supply lists underneath you. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length.
“I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s music to his fucking ears.
“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do. He juts his head down and spits onto it, using his fist to work it onto himself. You hold your legs open in a V, bracing yourself with your arms behind you. Your ass hangs slightly off the edge of the desk, just enough for him to have full access and view of your glistening slit.
He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. Your heart throbs in your chest, and your eyes flicker closed.
“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again.
“Okay?” he asks. You nod.
You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to hurt you. And while you may be out of practice, you know your body was made for this. You feel so full, so content, you just want to feel all of him. After he’s confident you’re ready, he pushes his hips forward once again, fully burying himself deep inside of you.
Your pussy walls clench against him, and your jaw goes slack. You were right, you do feel him in your tummy. He’s so fucking big, but god, it feels good. It’s like he’s stuffing and filling all of the lonely spaces that have been hiding inside of you for so long. Like he was made for you.
He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. You can tell he wants to fuck you harder, deeper. You can tell that he’s waiting for you to take it there, to give him that permission.
“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand at your hip flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs.
“Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk, your bare breasts flesh against the cool wood, your hips perfectly positioned at the edge, bent over and waiting to once again be stuffed.
He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.
“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. Something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.
“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” you say, breathless.
“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.
Good girl. Pretty. Come for him.
And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right.
His movements begin to slow. You can tell he’s close.
“Where do you want me, baby?”
“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you rasp, beg.
After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come.
He holds you there, both of your breaths coming a little ragged, his body shaking and jolting a little. You feel him pulse inside of you. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this content, utterly blissed out from the feeling of him – all of him – deep inside of you.
When he pulls out, you let out a small moan, a little sad your pussy has nothing to clench around anymore. He tells you to stay there for a second before he returns with a handful of paper towels from the kitchen to help clean you up.
He kisses you again. It’s different this time, not as intense as the first few, but just as hot, just as passionate. The same pull you felt the moment he first entered the restaurant.
He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.
“Wanna smoke?”
++++
“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, the dim glow of the fire illuminates your features.
“Too long,” you mumble, taking a big drag. Now you get why in movies after a really good sex scene the characters always want a cigarette. You watch as he lights his own.
“And you, where are you off to next?” You don’t want him to leave.
“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke dancing in the air around him.
Your stomach twists a bit at the thought. Don’t go.
“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours.
He gives you a subtle wink. You smile.
You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him, taking in the crisp desert air, enjoying being next to him.
And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. You accept.
But this time when you stamp out the cigarette, watching the embers fade into darkness, you fully entertain the notion that not only could you have more.
You will.
Especially if Joel has anything to say about it.
END
Or if you want, you can read Joel’s POV here.
Tagging some moots cuz I'm sure Tumblr will probably fuck my engagement on this one since I haven't posted in forever :/
If you like this, please consider a reblog (dm me if you want to be removed): @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @hellishjoel @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy
ily.
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedrostories#consent#joel miller#joel miler x fem!reader#joel miller fanfic
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Ain't So Bad
Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k
i want this man to do horrible things to me, i want him to tell me he'll make sure i'm ok when i know full well he's the most dangerous thing around, he's driving me INSANE anyway i'll have a softer thing for him soon!! 🤎
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon/noncon, restraints, use of 'no' but reader is quick to do as told, restraints, slight threat, gun mention, hair pulling
The sun had thankfully almost set, the long shadows cast by it a welcome relief, though it did mean that night was coming, along with the threats that were its constant companion. But you always assumed you were safe, travelling with your own companion. Especially when that companion was Cooper Howard. Charming, despite his foul attitude that put most people off. Handsome, at least to you, and much to the disappointment of the more ‘reserved’ folks you came across out in the wasteland. And you felt lucky, most of the time, to consider him yours. But you suspected that, while he kept the danger away, that there was a reason for that.
Even predators had something they were afraid of. There was always a greater evil.
And as the darkness fell, his silhouette lit only by the small fire in the corner of the roofless room, you began to realise that Cooper was a lot more dangerous than you had let yourself come to terms with.
“Cooper, wait… we’re not safe enough, I don’t…”
You trailed off, aware that your words were falling on deaf ears as Cooper dragged his dry lips across your cheek, grazing his teeth against the skin as you felt him pushing you backwards, your spine straightening against the crumbling wall behind you.
“It ain’t so bad out here… certainly won’t be when you see what I’ve got in store for you.”
“Please, Cooper… no, Coop, I can’t-”
Interrupted by your own sharp inhale, you held the breath as you watched Cooper’s eyes settled on yours, your hands above you head against the wall, his hands tight around your wrists, preventing you from holding him back any further.
“I’m here to keep you safe, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”
His words meant very little against what you knew was lurking out there, and your nerves pushed your protests out of your clamping throat.
“But Cooper, you know I get scared… I don’t want to do this, not here.”
“Well too bad, missy…”
He lifted your hands and slammed them back down again, watching as you winced at the dull pain.
“… it ain’t like there’s a nice place I can take a girl like you for something like this…”
Cooper’s grip loosened, one of his hands leaving yours as he fumbled with the belt on his pants. You could have easily pulled away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t be sure why, and you chose not to linger on that thought, luckily distracted from it as Cooper’s unbuckled belt clanged, his eyes back towards you.
“…Now, are you going to be a good girl and take it?”
The free hand now drifted to his hip, pushing back his long coat, his palm lazily resting on the holstered gun by his side before he continued speaking. Slowly, clearly, in a low, guttural tone.
“Or am I gonna have to be a bad man and take. It.”
His stare penetrated you, like he could see through your skull to the wall you were trapped against. Your chest seemed to stay completely still despite the deep breaths you took. When you tried to speak, your tongue stayed flat, your lips trembling, nothing but a squeak of air managing to pass between you.
“I asked you a question.”
All you offered was a stuttered mumble and a sheepish nod of your head, a smile offered to you by Cooper as he kicked your legs apart with his muddy boot. Two gloved fingers teased at the front of your pants, pulling them away from skin before sinking below the waistband and brushing against your thickened lips. Excitement, adrenaline, fear. All of it passed over you in a heartbeat, your heart fluttering as he removed his hands from you. Bringing the fingers to his lips, he bit down on the leather with his yellowed teeth, tearing off the glove and tossing it to the ground. His fingers were back down quickly, spreading apart your folds. His uncovered fingers delved inside of you, only briefly, before he withdrew that small modicum of pleasure from the otherwise intense and nerve-wracking situation.
As he separated himself from you, your back arched involuntarily away from the wall, your body betraying your protests as you ached for more of his touch.
“My, my… you sure were fussing a lot for someone who is clearly enjoying themselves…”
Bringing his two fingers up, he spread them apart, watching carefully as your slick stretched in long strands between them.
“Bend over.”
“Cooper, wait, please, I-”
Gripping your waist, Cooper knocked you off balance and let you fall to the floor, a cloud of dust rising up around you.
“I done enough waitin’, darlin’.”
As you struggled to get onto all fours, you felt yourself knocked once more, cheek slamming to the ground as your arms were pulled up behind your back. You could feel the rope tightening around your skin, your wrists bound together and stuck against your spine.
“Now listen, you just lie there…”
He leaned down, whispering into your ear, his hot breath tingling you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck.
“… and try to keep quiet.”
Behind you, Cooper fell to his knees, pulling down his own pants before turning his attention to yours, uncovering just enough of you that he knew he could slip himself between your thighs and into your wet, warm cunt without leaving either of you too vulnerable to any surprise guests.
Once his other glove was off, you could feel his palm sliding up your back, cracked nails scratching at the nape of your neck before his fingers gripped your hair. Your back contorted as he lifted your face from the ground, positioning you perfectly for his curved cock, lubed with his own drool which he let drip down from his lips in a long, lewd strand, to slide inside of you with little mercy. He pounded into you once, setting the tone for the rest of the encounter you had to endure.
But he hadn’t lied.
“Just a little longer, darlin’, we’ll have you back on two legs… just hng gimme… ah… fuck, that’s it…”
His brutal pace, the way he was so desperately trying to get to the conclusion, the relief, the pain of the stretch, the heat in your own chest that made you moan in response to the way his cock pulsed within your walls.
But he was true to his word.
Because while one hand was tugging at the hair, fingernails scratching your scalp, his hips bucking into your body, knocking you forward and into the ground, his other hand clutched the shotgun, finger teasing the trigger, tempted to send shots into the air at his climax, but ready to defend you both against anyone, or anything, that threatened to interrupt him.
“See, darlin’… not so bad after all.”
#fallout#fallout amazon#x reader#finnie writes#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fic#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard fanfiction#cooper howard one shot#cooper howard smut#cooper howard imagine#fallout tv#fallout tv series#walton goggins#cooper howard x fem!reader
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fall into temptation | three
Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader
series masterlist l previous chapter
summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.
word count: 10k
a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.
Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”
“What’s she doing holding his hand?”
“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”
Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.
His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.
Solid. Steady.
Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?
Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.
It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.
His youngest daughter.
Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.
“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”
“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”
“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”
“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”
Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.
Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.
Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.
“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”
“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”
Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.
“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.
The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.
Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”
Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”
Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.
“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”
Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.
If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.
Not after Joel Miller was through with him.
Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.
Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?
“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”
Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”
“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”
Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”
You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.
“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”
Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.
Watching. Observing. Waiting.
He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.
“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.
He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”
Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.
It caused something inside of you to finally give way.
Snap.
The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”
For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.
“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”
It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.
It was your father.
Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.
Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.
Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.
“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”
Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”
That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”
“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.
Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.
“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”
Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.
“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”
Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”
His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.
“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”
The first thing he did was light the fireplace.
“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”
“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.
Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”
“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”
Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.
“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”
You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”
“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”
“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”
Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”
His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”
“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.
Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”
Of course not.
You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.
Still.
The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.
Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.
Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.
No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.
He wouldn’t believe them.
“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”
Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”
The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.
There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”
No. That’s not what you wanted.
You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.
But that freedom came with a high, high price.
You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?
“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.
“What?”
“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”
Confused, all you could do was stare at him.
“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”
Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.
“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”
“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”
His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”
“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.
He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”
Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”
“What is it, darlin’ girl?”
“Kiss me. Please.”
With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.
You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.
“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”
“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”
“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”
You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?
“You’re not taking advantage of me.”
“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”
“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”
His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.
“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”
Christ.
No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.
With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.
“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.
Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”
Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”
All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.
With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.
Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”
Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”
His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.
Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.
With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.
Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.
You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.
Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.
“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.
Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.
“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.
“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.
“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.
“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”
Yours.
Yours, yours, yours.
Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”
“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”
“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”
Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.
Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”
You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.
“Yeah? Y’trust me?”
Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”
Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”
Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.
He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”
With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.
“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.
You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.
Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.
“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”
Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.
“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”
You whimpered. “Yes.”
“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, please.”
Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”
Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.
“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”
“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.
Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.
Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.
You opened wider. “Please.”
“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.
“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”
Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.
Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?
“Oh God.”
You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.
Not when something this sinful was being done to you.
Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.
“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”
Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.
Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.
Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.
Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.
Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.
Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”
Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.
If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.
The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.
Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”
“Okay.”
“I’ve got you,” he promised.
You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”
Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.
“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”
Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.
He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.
Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”
Surely, you would be the death of him.
He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?
There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.
“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”
And you did.
Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.
“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.
“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”
You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.
Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”
“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”
With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”
“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.
It was the second time you’d uttered His name.
Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.
“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.
He was getting closer and closer.
Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.
“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”
No way he could live his life without you now.
He needed you.
He needed you so much more than you needed him.
Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.
“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.
His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”
Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.
He was begging you.
Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?
“Joel,” you choked.
“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”
Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”
A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.
Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.
“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.
Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”
He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”
Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.
Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”
Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.
Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“Mean what, Joel?”
There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”
Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”
“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.
“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”
“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”
“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”
You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.
The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.
Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.
The nerves began to set in.
Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.
With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.
He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.
You could have laughed. You almost did.
“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”
“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”
“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.
His chest swelled with warmth.
Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.
He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”
“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”
He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.
“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”
He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.
He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”
Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.
I’ve got you.
divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍
#fic: fall into temptation#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x afab!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller series#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller angst#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#post outbreak joel
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hii!, hope you have a nice day<3, could I request alastor with a VERY VERY ticklish reader? with like alastor giving a hug to reader and him figuring out they’re ticklish (and using it to his advantage, fluff too!♡︎)
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Alastor has tried everything he could think of, but your mood still hasn't improved.
He's resorted to the most humiliating scenario imaginable: knocking on Charlie's door and asking for her help while grinding his teeth. For you, he's swallowing his pride.
There's no discernible reason for you to be upset, nor has the Radio Demon been successful in finding a way to make your terrible crying stop.
You might as well plunge your hand into his chest and squeeze his heart until it stills. At least then he wouldn't have to feel this horrible ache just looking at your tears.
"Did you offer them their favourite food?"
"Of course I did."
Charlie thinks for a moment, hand on her chin. The Princess of Hell has a whole whiteboard of ideas going on how to make you feel better.
"How about hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel better!"
"I don't think that's quite—"
"Oh! I know! What about singing a song? That always makes us feel better!"
Alastor's head tilts. While that was true, he's not sure the sentiment would exactly carry over.
"I... don't think so, my dear."
Finally, after filling the board with countless ideas and subsequently crossing them off, Charlie sighs and flops onto the couch next to him. "I give up. If only they could be cured with your hugs or something."
"... Hugs?"
Deathly silence fills the air as the Princess stares at him blankly.
"You... did try that, right?"
Alastor's ears twitch in lieu of an answer.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
You've decided to hole up in your room again.
For whatever reason, it annoys Alastor. He hasn't been able to see your face all day, and as ridiculous as it sounds, he's become quite attached to you.
He doesn't bother knocking, instead opting to slip through the crack of your door in shadows and materializing beside your bed with a dimming smile.
You don't seem to stir at his sudden appearance, apparently used to his shenanigans.
"What do you want?" You murmur miserably from under your blankets, which are coiled up around you while you wallow.
"Come now, darling. It's a beautiful day in Hell! Why don't you join me for a stroll?"
He perches himself on the edge of your bed as you groan and pull the sheets tighter to your body.
"Go away, Al."
"Why, you've been absolutely pitiful, my dear. What's gotten you so down?" Reaching over, he peels the blankets away from your face so he can finally look at you.
There's a familiar throbbing ache of his heart when he sees your tears. When you don't answer, he sighs.
"Would a hug help?" He asks, trying not to cringe. He holds his arms open with a shaky smile. You blink at him with wide eyes.
"... Really?"
He hesitates, but then your eyes sparkle with the tiniest bit of wonder and happiness, so he surrenders. "Hurry and come here before I change my mind."
You shuffle across the bed, abandoning all your blankets and pillows in the process. After you've shed the layers, you slot into his arms.
At first he's stiff as a board, awkwardly patting your back. But then you relax in his arms, melting against him. Smile softening, he pulls you closer into his chest and squeezes.
Giggle.
Alastor's eyes fly open. Jerking back, he looks at you in bewilderment.
"Is something wrong?"
"N-No!" You exclaim, slithering away from him.
"Are you... ticklish?" He asks, amused by your flustered expression.
"I'm not!" You lie through your teeth, squirming to put some distance between your bodies.
"Really, now~?"
He suddenly lunges at you, enveloping you again in his hold and purposefully poking at you with his fingers. You burst out into a fit of giggles, writhing to get away from him.
"Al!" You shriek with laughter. Shoving him away, you finally have a moment to catch your breath while you wipe away the tears gathering in your eyes.
Alastor reaches out, gentle this time, thumbs pulling at your smile. He admires it softly. As much as he hates to admit it, just seeing your face lit up fills him with relief.
"That's more like it, darling. Show me your lovely smile."
~
taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda (send an ask to be added!)
#🍓 faye's thoughts <3#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin x reader#alastor fanfic#alastor fic#alastor headcanons#alastor fanfiction#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin#hazbin hotel headcanons
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“YOUR LAUGHTER IS THE SWEETEST SOUND.”
༄ sypnosis. you’re giving your boyfriend the silent treatment and he doesn’t have a clue why. thus he decides to find out in a rather special way.
༄ note. uhhh.. satoru’s been on my mind since forever and the fic ideas just keep coming so heres another one.
༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. just pure, tooth rotting fluff. satoru loves u sm. nicknames such as ‘sweets, babe(-y).’
“satoru. i’m counting to three.”
you stand in front of your boyfriend, hands on your hips and a frown on your face; satoru had taken your phone from you and is now holding it up out of reach.
“woah, ‘m so scared.” satoru mocks with a grin like the absolute menace he is, whistling a tune as he waits for you to do something about it.
you stood no chance since that man was above 6’3. that’s exactly what annoyed you most about the situation.
the reason he grabbed your phone from you was because you had given him the silent treatment ever since the early morning. for no apparent reason— or at least— one that satoru himself couldn’t figure out.
“satoru.” you sigh, clearly trying not to lose your temper with the guy.
“you have to tell me why you’re not talkin’ to me first.” the white-haired man shrugs nonchalantly, waving your phone back and forth in the air above.
you click your tongue and grab a pillow before throwing it at your boyfriend.
to your surprise, he lets the object hit him. it doesn’t faze him after all— he’s still steadily keeping your phone up with one hand.
satoru shakes his head and lets out a deep, over exaggerated sigh, “i would’ve given it back a looong time ago if you weren’t just so stubborn.”
that was a lie. he wouldn’t have.
the way satoru stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding up your phone way above his head, pissed you off so much more than you thought.
especially due to that little sly smirk that lingered on his face the entire time he taunted you.
“you’re extremely annoying.” you scoff.
after avoiding any close contact with your boyfriend for the entire day, you finally decide to get as close to him as possible. this was done with only one goal in mind: getting your phone back.
“got’cha.”
suddenly, you were lifted up and pinned down on the nearby couch— satoru hovering right on top of you while pinning both of your wrists above your head using one hand.
he had waited patiently for you to get close to him like that so he could pull such a cheap trick.
“now,” satoru starts, looking straight into your eyes as his warm breath slightly hits your face in the current state of close proximity, “tell me, baby.”
a second huff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, “no can do.”
“aww— well, guess you left me no choice.” satoru sighs, his expression changing into a serious one.
he retreats from above you ever so slightly. you couldn’t see his eyes since his bangs covered them for the most part, though you could sense a certain shift in his aura.
“you have yourself to blame for this.”
his tone sounded like he wasn’t playing around either.
…
you were a second too late to react before satoru did. his hands moved at the speed of the light— landing right beneath your shirt. your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing;
satoru was going to torture the information out of you. with non-stop tickles.
“hey! s-stop!” you try to keep your expression stoic and devoid of emotion, but fail miserably at that task the moment you felt him tickling you.
“hmm? can’t hear ya.” satoru teases while his fingers kept moving quickly and repeatedly over the exposed skin under your shirt.
“you!” you try to warn the white-haired man seriously, though you burst into a fit of laughter instead.
satoru’s face lights up the moment he hears the sweet sound of your laughter. he’s grinning from ear to ear like he’s just won the best prize there was, “my baby’s so pretty when she’s smiling like this.”
neither his affectionate words nor his loving gaze had been noticed by you. the only thing you were capable of doing was laugh and try to get his hands off you.
“satoru! i swear—”
it’s like both of you were in your own worlds, focused on two entirely different things: you were trying so hard to stop your boyfriend from tickling you while he was lost in your beauty beneath him.
“tha’s not my name,” satoru pouted, increasing the intensity of his tickles.
he didn’t like it whenever you’d purposely avoid referring to him with affectionate nicknames.
you did that whenever you were upset with him and that’s why he always tries his best to not get on your nerves (keyword: tries. satoru somehow always manages to annoy you, though sometimes it’s on purpose since your reactions were adorable).
“i can’t anymore!” there’s tears welling up in your eyes due to you laughing and giggling non-stop. your stomach was also reaching its limit.
“i’ll stop if you say it,” satoru chuckles along, his blue eyes staring at you over the rims of his pitch-black lenses, “say ‘pleaaase, baby.’”
his fingers continued to ruthlessly tickle your sides while you tried to escape his grasp.
“c’mon, i know you can do it.” your boyfriend adds with a small smirk on his face.
“no way!” you shake your head while giggling uncontrollably. even in this state, you were somehow holding onto that avoidant attitude of yours.
“that’s no good, sweets.”
satoru decided to use his trump card: tickling your armpits. he’ll have you begging him to stop in no time.
as expected, you squeal and squirm around underneath the snowy-haired male, your breathing unstable due to the amount of laughter leaving your lips.
“w-wait—,” you manage to get out between giggles, “please, baby, i give up!”
satoru was content with your answer and rested his hands on either side of your body.
“wasn’t that hard, ey?”
you could see that victorious expression on his face which beamed of confidence. it made you roll your eyes.
“shut up.” you breathe out deeply as you try to regain your composure.
satoru’s thumb gently brushed your tears of joy away while he looked down at you fondly. you looked extremely precious like that; teary eyed, hair messy and a slight pout on your lips.
he doesn’t want this moment to end.
and thus he starts to act dumb.
“hmm.. what did i say again just now?” satoru scratches his head with his index finger like he was thinking deeply about something.
“nu-uh. don’t you dare.” you knew that whenever satoru feigned innocence in situations like these, chaos was going to unfold a moment later.
“that i’d stop if you said ple— eh, whatever. i don’t remember.”
satoru shrugs, that fake innocent expression turning into a mischievous one in under a split second.
before you could escape, satoru started to tickle you again. you really should’ve expected him to pull another cheap trick like that; it’s the gojo satoru after all.
“you just wait, satoru, i swear i’ll kick your ass!”
“i’d like to see you try, babe.”
your laughter fills satoru’s ears once more and it’s then that he realises for the umpteenth time how grateful he is.
he’s indebted to the heavens for granting him the chance to live at the same time as you.
at this point, satoru wasn’t even concentrated on getting information out of you. seeing you all giggly and happy like this was enough for him.
he didn’t want to pressure you too much into telling him your reason for the silent treatment earlier.
he’ll find out one way or another. just like he usually does.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x you#gojo x you#gojo fluff#jjk fic#banner by cafekitsune
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i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.
The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.
He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?
Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.
Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.
Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.
“Holy— shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.
It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.
He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.
Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.
You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.
“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.
“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”
He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”
Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.
“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”
Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway— not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open— and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.
While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.
“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down his body as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.
“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”
Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”
“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.
“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”
“They probably already are.”
He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face, but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too. Nothing compared to the sheer size of his thighs though; they had to be the size of your head. Just by photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake.
Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.
You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”
“Right… like all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”
Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with embarrassment that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.
You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”
He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.
“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”
Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a question you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck— the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I— uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.
Of course, to add to the fucking embarrassment, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.
“Is that all you read?”
You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”
He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”
Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.
“N-no,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.
“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”
To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.
This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.
You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.
“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”
Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”
You look him up and down. “So?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.
“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”
You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”
He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.
“Yeah. Yeah— I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.
“Which part were you reading?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway— she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”
Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.
“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”
You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.
“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my cock nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”
You finally halt at the words because he was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”
So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.
You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and come close. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.
This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.
“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”
The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.
“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”
You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.
The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.
“hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.
The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.
He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.
“fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his shoulder for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.
You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.
“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”
You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts. “Again.”
“Y-yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.
How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.
“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”
“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.
“No the fuck you’re not.”
Godammit.
Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.
Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”
“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”
Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.
“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”
He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.
“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.
And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”
You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”
You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.
“No. come here.”
You stare at him dumbfounded.
“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.
“My face, baby.”
Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”
You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.
“Sit.”
“Are you sure?” You clarify.
“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between his eyes. The only thing visible is his damp hair.
Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.
You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.
Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”
You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.
Shakily, you call out “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.
“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.
“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him past your hair.
“Hmphh?”
“I’m close— can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.
To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.
this was kinda rushed
©️hxltic
#suna imagines#suna rintarō#hq suna#suna rintaro x reader#rintarou suna#suna haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hcs#haikyu x reader#haikyuu smut#god i want him so bad#tictalks#haikyuu suna#suna rintaro#suna x reader#suna smut#suna rintarou#suna x you#suna headcanons#hq smut
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