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joelsgreys · 7 months

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a safe haven l nine

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound.

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse.

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend.

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand.

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly. “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August.

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time.

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children.

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant.

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant.

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you are fucking pregnant.

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence.

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing.

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified.

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them.

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim.

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy.

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.”

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him.

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that?

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you.

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.”

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?”

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this?

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller series #Joel Miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tw: dv #tw: domestic violence #tw: pregnancy

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bucksangel · 8 months

Text

milk and honey

pairing: alpha!Steve x alpha!Bucky, alpha!Steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly)

word count: 7.9k

Summary: “Are you sure about this, Steve?” Bucky just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot”

or - alpha’s Bucky and Steve decide to bring an omega into their relationship.

Warnings: fluff out the assssss, flirting, reader is a little awkward, there are parts where it’s just Steve and Bucky, kissing, omegaverse, bucky is a tease, steve is very fond, handjobs, wet dreams, allusions to sex, 18+

a/n: this fic is dedicated to my heart and soul @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Hi! How can I help you?” A soft, honeyed voice sounds through the air, flowing up to Steve’s ears and making his skin tingle. He suddenly feels warm all over, and not because of the thick coat covering his broad shoulders to prevent the crisp autumn wind whipping outside from stinging his skin.

Slowly, he turns around, swallowing thickly at the sight before him.

A beautiful, young Omega with eyes that sparkle in the natural sunlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her hair is pulled away from her face as best as possible and there are splatters of paint on the apron wrapped around her torso, as well as specks on her fingers. And her scent, oh God, the scent wafting up to his nostrils makes him want to rumble and puff out his chest, lavender and vanilla mixed with something undeniably and uniquely sweet that makes it hard for him to not lean forward and bury his face in the Omegas neck.

“Um, sir?” The Omega asks again, brows furrowed.

“S-Sorry, I, uh…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “I’m looking to get back into drawing, and I saw your studio as I was walking back to my apartment and thought I’d come in to see what you have.”

The Omega nods, a bright smile stretching across her face. “Well, I can show you around if you want? Do you have any specific mediums or pencils you were thinking of?”

Steve nods, a smile of his own now etched onto his face. “Yeah, that’d – that would be great. And, um, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I used to draw with charcoal pencils, but I kind of want to branch out, you know?”

She nods again, her smile widening. “Yeah! Here,” she turns and waves her hand, indicating for Steve to follow her, “I have a bunch of different kinds of paper, and pens, we also have canvases, oh! And paints are over here.”

Steve trails behind her dumbly, nodding along to everything the pretty Omega says and listening to every word that spills out from her glossy lips – and for a moment he wonders if it’s flavored, cherry maybe, then thinks of kissing them to find out.

He doesn’t do that. Of course not. He’s only just met her, yet there’s already just something about her that makes him swoon. She makes him feel alive, like only Bucky can.

Suddenly, though, he’s slamming into her, not having realized she’d stopped in front of him until it was too late. But before she could fall back, Steve reaches for her hips to keep her upright.

The Omega squeals and grasps Steve’s biceps to steady herself. But, even after they’re both back in place, neither one of them removes their hold on the other. It’s silent for a moment, growing tense as Steve stares down at the pretty Omega he’s now holding. And the Omega, this beautiful little thing, is staring back up at him, mouth opening and closing as though she’s trying to find her words.

And after a few more tense moments, she finds them.

“S-Sir?”

“Steve,” he says quickly. “Um, my name is Steve.”

__________

“My name is Steve.”

Steve.

This man, Steve, is still holding on to your hips, and you can’t help but lightly squeeze his biceps, trying your hardest to not let out another squeak. He’s just so… manly. With his big, capable hands, biceps that you can feel through his coat, and his mouthwatering scent - bergamot and patchouli. There’s also an underlying smell of pure Alpha, the aura that surrounds this man would naturally pull any sane Omega in its orbit.

It takes a moment, but you’re able to snap out of your trance long enough to mumble your name. This makes Steve smile, repeating your name softly before squeezing at your hips and realizing, all at once, how little space there is between you two. Some part of your hindbrain wants to whine at the thought of leaving his space, but you pull away, nonetheless.

“Um, I-“ You try to think of something to say, something to make things a little less tense, and when you glance to your right you see a variety of canvases and remember that you’re at work.

“So, uh, were you thinking of any… pencils you might want?”

Steve clears his throat and nods, smiling at you again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

And that’s how Steve bought way more than you suspect he’ll actually use. But just as he finishes paying, you start fiddling with your fingers, swallowing thickly. You want to say something, maybe give him a reason to come back so you can bask in his presence again. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I’m hosting an art class in a couple of weeks! And, um, if - if you want to come then I can give you a flyer.”

The smile that Steve gives you is bright, and he starts nodding his head before you even finish the sentence.

“Yeah!” Steve coughs, trying - and failing - to cover up any semblance of desperation in his tone. “That sounds fun.”

You smile at him, your heart beating ever faster. Christ, anyone would think you’d never met an Alpha before. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something until his phone starts ringing.

His soft sigh is barely audible, grumbling about ‘bad timing.” When he pulls his phone out, he looks up at you with a remorseful smile,

“Sorry, guess I have to go now.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. Here’s the flier.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly, then takes the paper and gives you a wave before turning and walking out of the store.

____________

The door nearly slams open, Steve cringing as he remembers not to use so much strength when nudging the door open with his elbow. But, hey, he has his arms full of art supplies so he can’t use his hands.

“Babe? What’s with all the noise – what the fuck?” Bucky asks incredulously, hands placed on his hips as he stops a few feet from the front door.

“Oh, hey. Do you mind helping me out?” Steve asks with a chuckle, walking further into the apartment and shutting the door with a push of his foot. Bucky sighs but walks towards him with an outstretched arm anyway.

“So,” Bucky says, grabbing a few of the bags and bringing them to the living room. “What’s all this?”

“Oh…” Steve trails off, placing the rest of the bags onto the couch and fiddling with the end of his shirt nervously. “Well, I went to the new art studio that’s down the block.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Bucky laughs, peeking into one of the bags and raising an eyebrow. “Did you buy out the whole store?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I didn’t, thank you very much. I just want to start drawing again, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms with a nod. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me considering you hate oil paints and yet there are several different kinds in here.”

Right then Steve’s heartbeat speeds up, his face warming. And he silently curses himself for being so easy to make flustered. Especially considering Bucky, his mate, can feel through their bond that Steve’s nervous.

“Well, you see-“ Steve coughs, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I was talking with the owner and she… God, Buck, I think she might be… we’ve been talking about maybe courting an Omega. And I think she could be what we’re looking for. She’s so sweet, so beautiful, just so… perfect. And her scent, oh God. Other than yours, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelt.”

For a minute Bucky doesn’t say anything, his hands return to his hips as he thinks over Steve’s words carefully. After all, they have talked about courting an Omega, they’ve even talked to a few, but none had ever gone far. They just haven’t seemed to find the perfect one for them, so Bucky is naturally a little skeptical. But then he looks into Steve’s eyes, he sees how they sparkle, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and the sincerity in his voice just seems to win him over.

“Are you sure about this, Stevie?” Bucky asks skeptically, but he just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

____________

Three days later it’s another chilly day, the clouds hanging overhead and the light rain have sucked all the warmth out of the air. The heater in the studio is on low, yet high enough to warm the space comfortably without it being too overwhelming.

Due to the rain and cold, there weren’t many people in the studio. In fact, it’s just you. There have been only a handful of customers coming in today, so you sent your coworker, Tori, to the back so she could study.

And since everything had been organized and cleaned over an hour ago you find yourself sitting at your easel, tongue poking out of your mouth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You’ve been here for the last hour, so focused on your painting that you don’t hear the bell ring above the door.

You also don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you, so you can’t help but let out a slight scream whenever someone taps on your shoulder. Jumping in shock, it takes everything you have to not knock into your easel.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Comes a voice from behind you, deep and soothing. And you can feel your heartbeat increase further, and not because of the scare. No, this man, clearly an Alpha, has a voice that makes you nearly weak in the knees.

Turning, your eyes widen. The most handsome man stands in front of you, wearing a tight red Henley under a leather jacket. His gloved hands rest on your forearms, helping you off your stool in such a way that you don’t knock over your painting. The man’s hands are huge, able to encompass your entire forearm and then some.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re staring, mouth parted and face flushed as you step back to a respectful distance.

“N-no, it’s fine! I should have been paying attention,” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice wavers a bit, but the stranger’s smile lets you know that it didn’t work.

You can’t help it though. His smile, though small, is comforting and kind. His deep blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. His beard isn’t thick per se, but just thick enough to complete his rugged look, something that makes you melt. But you kick those thoughts out of your head to the best of your ability until you’re finally able to speak.

“How can I help you?”

____________

“How can I help you?”

Bucky gets it, understands what Steve was saying about the pretty Omega he thought would be perfect for them. He’s heard only a handful of words come out of your mouth, yet he feels his chest tighten, his heart clenching as he exercises a considerable amount of restraint from encasing you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

His hands itch to touch you, to run them over your soft-looking skin. And he can’t help the less innocent thoughts that cross his mind, really feeling your body, caressing. And, to be quite honest, these… intense emotions kind of startle him, because the only person he’s ever felt this way with was Steve.

Nevertheless, he follows his instincts, something deep in him knows that Steve was right when he said you’d be perfect for them.

“I’m waiting for my…” Bucky trails off, thinking about whether he should tell you he has a mate or not, then decides against it. If you knew he wasn’t single you probably wouldn’t be open to his advances, and would probably think it’s weird for a mated Alpha to be flirting with you. After all, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common, and, to be honest, they can be a little intense together.

“My friend. And I haven’t seen this studio before.” Bucky gives you a cheeky smile, trying not to laugh as he sees you fiddling with your fingers, glancing down as though you’re avoiding his gaze.

“I’m Bucky,” He reaches his hand out, letting you slowly put yours in his before he squeezes lightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand.

You give him your name with a squeak, flushed and nervous in a good way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you’re stumbling over your words slightly, and Bucky really can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And it’s lovely to meet you, darling.” Bucky holds his breath, cautiously waiting for your reaction toward the pet name. But it seems like he doesn’t have to worry, because the tiny squeak of delight that spills from your lips confirms to him that you’re, at the very least, open to his advances.

“S-so, um. Did you want to look around?”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head and finally releasing your hand. “The main reason I stepped in here was that I saw the poster in the window about an art class you’re hosting soon. I thought I’d come in so you can meet your new student.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly, wiping your hands along the front of your apron. “I’d love it if you could come! To be honest, I’ve only had a handful of people confirm that they will. I was kind of thinking of canceling, honestly.”

“Oh, don’t do that. There are plenty of people who’d love to come, your business is new so it’s going to take some time for your clientele to grow. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends.” While he already hates the idea of other people - especially his unmated Alpha friends - getting personal time with you, he also hates how dejected you sounded about possibly canceling the class.

“Oh, gosh,” Your voice is soft, your eyes twinkling in the bright, natural light. “Well, that’d be very kind of you.”

Bucky chuckles, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Plus, it’ll be nice to see you again.”

Once again, a small noise from the back of your throat makes its way up and out of your mouth. And he can hear your heartbeat speed up, can see the look of embarrassment clear on your face.

And just as you’re about to reply, Bucky’s phone dings. He sighs, pulling it out and glancing down at it.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go now,” He smirks at you, giving you a wink so slight you’d miss it if you weren't staring directly into his eyes.

You nod, giving him a shy and awkward smile. “No, it’s fine! Besides, I’ll see you at the class, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, placing one of his gloved hands on your forearm and squeezing tenderly, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

____________

“Who the fuck was that?” A voice behind you says, and when you turn you see it’s Tori looking exasperated.

“I have no idea,” Your voice is small, still unbelieving of what just happened. Your arm still tingles from where he squeezed. You then turn to look back toward the door, a tiny part of you wishing he’d come back in.

“Why do you get all the flirty Alphas? I want my turn!” Her comment makes you laugh, and you can see a hint of a smile cracking through her faux-angered expression.

“They’re bringing their friends to the art class, maybe you’ll meet one too. Besides…” You trail off bringing your hand up to rub your arm. “Maybe he wasn’t even flirting? I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but a lot of the Alphas that come in here are really nice. Like Steve!”

You were hoping to convince not only her but yourself as well, desperately trying not to read too far into their actions. They could just be friendly, a little touchy but not overbearingly so. Whatever the case, Tori lightly smacks your arm.

“Babe, Steve was flirting with you too.” She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You may be shy, but you’re not stupid. They like you! And you need to accept that and go for it.”

“Okay, let’s say they do like me… there’s two of them and one of me. I don’t know if I’d be able to choose between them, especially since I don’t even know them. I wouldn’t want to lead one of them on.” Sighing, your eyebrows furrow, now fiddling with your fingers in anxiety.

Because, let’s be honest, you’re not one hundred percent certain that they were, in fact, flirting with you. Maybe they really are just being nice, maybe that’s how they are with a lot of people. Because Alphas like them don’t like Omegas like you; shy, awkward, introverted, too easily flustered, and so clumsy that there is absolutely no way you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of them at some point.

But it’s fine, because maybe they won’t show up to the class, maybe they’ll have to cancel and you can stay within your comfort zone. Change is scary, meeting new people and - possibly - dating them is scary, and you’ve never really been one to take risks.

Maybe that’s why part of you is hoping they’re not actually interested. However, you cannot deny the fact you’re interested in them. But, if things happen you want them to happen naturally, yet from beside you, Tori hums thoughtfully. In the seconds of silence that follows you know she’s planning on meddling. But before you can tell her to please not do that, she claps her hands together.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll help.” With that, she turns and goes back to the back office, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

____________

Bucky coughs, clearing his throat, then chuckles when Steve jumps in surprise. One of Bucky’s hands settles on his mate’s waist while looking at the bag of food in Steve’s hand.

“You get everything?”

Steve scoffs, moving Bucky’s hand off of his waist and lacing their fingers together. And as they start walking Bucky can hear his mate’s heartbeat pick up, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I did. Now…” Steve trails off, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. Bucky squeezes his hand in comfort.

“How did it go?”

Bucky hums, cheeks reddening as he remembers your sweet voice and beautiful smile. While he is able to steel his exterior and become this suave Alpha, he’s really just a teddy bear on the inside. He craves love, he craves touch. And while he loves Steve with everything he has, he has to admit that, even though he’s just met you, he knows you’ll be able to give him the same feelings Steve does.

“God, Stevie…” Bucky sighs, looking over at his love. “I get it. I get what you were saying about her. She’s just - just the loveliest Omega I’ve ever met. And, I swear to God, I wanted to just wrap her in my arms. She might be right for us, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles, his eyes sparkling with joy at hearing his mate confirm his instinct that you’d be perfect for them. One block later they get to their apartment, go inside, and set the food down on the table.

“So, how do you want to approach her about it?” Steve asks as he grabs the plates while Bucky gets out the food.

“Well, she said that she’s hosting an art class, we can go to that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Steve sighs, setting the plates down and sitting in his chair. “Don’t you think that would be a little… intense? Plus, it’s not common for two Alphas to be mated to each other, what if she’s uncomfortable with it?”

Bucky nods, grabbing drinks and setting one down in front of the other man. “Well, we’ll just talk to her one at a time then. We’ll go in on different days and get her to warm up to us before then.” At Steve’s pensive sigh, Bucky crouches, placing one hand on the back of his neck.

He knows Steve really wants this to work out. He’s a true romantic, and anyone who has ever met Steve knows within the first thirty seconds of talking to him that Bucky is the love of his life. He also knows Steve sometimes needs more, and it’s become worse the more potential mates they meet. And Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give Steve everything he wants and needs.

“It’s going to be fine, Stevie.” Bucky then leans forward, placing a soft and lingering kiss on the other man’s lips. And he keeps kissing him until Steve hums against his lips.

“You promise?” Steve mumbles softly, eyes still closed.

“I promise.”

____________

Ever since the day you met Bucky, he’s been coming to your studio more and more. Only buying a few items at a time, some of which you’re pretty sure he’s not actually interested in, though he spends most of his time talking to you. And it’s a give-and-take with the conversation. Sometimes Bucky will ask a question and you’ll ramble for twenty minutes on the subject before realizing and promptly shutting your mouth.

Then there are times when Bucky is more so talking at you. Sometimes you just get so anxious that you get a little quiet, deathly afraid of saying anything embarrassing to the very handsome Alpha who likes to spend his time talking with you of all people.

And it’s confusing. And getting harder and harder to convince yourself that the Alpha has no intentions other than simply getting to know you. Every smile he gives you makes you weak in the knees, the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches just make you want to melt.

Not to mention the subtle touches every so often. Whether it’s by stepping around you down one of the aisles and placing his hand on your waist to “steady you” should you fall, or by letting his hand graze yours for longer than it should when you hand him his bags, he’s gotten steadily more forward, though none of it is unwelcome. And maybe he can tell by each of your surprised yet pleased squeaks you let out whenever he shows off how good of an Alpha he is - including but not limited to doing the heavy lifting when you have to move some products onto the sales floor, bringing you coffee after you offhandedly mentioned your favorite cafe, and telling you about how he’s fixed up his motorcycle from the ground up, wordlessly showing that he’s mechanically and physically capable.

And on the sixth visit, exactly three days before your class, Bucky comes in once more at exactly noon. He tends to come in around your lunch break, knowing that you typically just paint in the studio while slowly taking bites of whatever food you brought. You’re in the back office sorting through some paperwork when you hear the bell ding above the front door. You don’t worry about going out to greet whoever just came in since Tori was there helping out.

You hear her chipper “Hi! How are you?” and for a moment your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because who could she possibly be talking to that warrants a little too much enthusiasm?

The voice that responds makes your heart beat a tiny bit faster, the low and raspy tone saying something about visiting a ‘friend’. And then it hits you, it’s Bucky.

Another thought hits you mere seconds later, fuck, Tori’s out there.

And just as that crosses your mind you can hear Tori ask him, “So, you’re Bucky, right?”

Before you have time to think you’re rushing out of the back office, doing your best to listen to their conversation as you speed down the hall.

Bucky chuckles, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds “Yeah, how’d you know?”

You can also tell Tori is smiling when she starts talking again. “Oh, I’ve heard about you once or twice. My friend is the owner of this place, the one you’ve been flirting with, you know?”

You finally turn the corner and face the pair, Tori’s back to you while Bucky looks back at you. You can’t miss the wide smirk on his lips, his pleased scent slowly pouring out from him.

“Yeah? I’ve been flirting?” Bucky winks at you over Tori’s shoulder, apparently finding humor in watching you get flustered.

“Mhm,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, from what she says, I think you like her. And she -” Suddenly she’s being cut off by your hand slapping over her mouth, appearing behind her and grasping her arm with your other hand.

“Okay! That’s it, you have to study!” You snap, glancing up at Bucky’s amused face for half a second before turning Tori around and shoving her toward the back office. “And don’t come out until you’re done with all three chapters!”

Tori huffs then rolls her eyes and trails off, leaving you and Bucky alone. And you feel like you’re on fire, like there’s no part of you that isn’t burning to the touch. Subconsciously your fingers start fiddling with each other, and you can’t bring yourself to look the Alpha in the eye.

“Hey,” He says softly, though still humorous. “It’s okay. She was right, you know?”

You hum in confusion, finally looking up at him even though it takes a lot of willpower to not look away. “What do you mean?”

“I was flirting with you. Is that okay?”

You’re no longer burning up, no. You’re ice cold now. It’s almost as if you’ve fallen into the seas surrounding the Antarctic and everything seems to slow down. Bucky’s been flirting with you? An Alphas been flirting with you? This Alpha? Your heart wants to beat out of your chest and your skin tingles, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

“Oh.” Apparently, that’s all you can decide on, though you’re snapped out of your haze upon seeing Bucky’s face fall slightly. “No! It’s - I mean, it’s o-okay, if you… you know, are.” Internally you cringe, of all times to trip over your words, it just has to be now.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bucky smiles again, and you find yourself getting lost in his eyes, in the soft gaze and deep ocean-blue hue. A squeak escapes your lips knowing that his fond expression is directed at and because of you.

“I can’t stay long today, unfortunately. But…” Bucky trails off, slipping your hand into his and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “I just wanted to come by and ask if I could treat you to lunch after the class on Saturday.”

“Like… like a - a date?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your head is spinning, and you’re positive that Bucky can tell your nerves are building.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a date. Even though I’d very much like it to be.” Bucky smiles, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, earning him a soft yet cautious giggle.

Now, you’re not too sure what to do. Over the past week or so that you’ve known him you’ve become enamored with him. You enjoy his company, he makes you feel safe, and the fact that he listens to your rambling with rapt attention makes you preen.

But, you have to take a moment to gather your thoughts. Because mere hours ago Steve had come in asking the same question - though he had suggested dinner.

Steve has also been coming in quite frequently, though he mostly spends time with you as you paint. He comes in first thing in the morning, knowing that your business is usually slower so he can have more of your attention.

He’s not as forward as Bucky is, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t shown any interest. His approach is more careful; lingering glances, not-so-subtly checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his gaze drops to your lips every so often whenever you’re speaking to him. Not to mention the way he always compliments your artwork. It’s all so… charming.

His mischievous yet chivalrous persona could pull anyone in, including you. Not to mention, Steve’s bright smile and deep laugh just make your inner Omega want to tilt your head and bare your neck to him.

Interactions with him give you similar feelings when you’re with Bucky, making everything overwhelmingly confusing. Because, like you told Tori, you’d hate to lead one of them on, but you can already tell you’re developing romantic feelings for both Alphas.

And hours ago you’d given Steve a timid ‘yes’ when he asked you out. What are you supposed to do? Suddenly, your lonely inner Omega forcefully pushes its way past all of your negative thoughts and ever-growing anxiety to give Bucky the same answer.

“Okay.” Despite your inner turmoil, Bucky’s bright smile and unfairly cute nose scrunch settle any nerves you’ve been feeling.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I-I’d love to go on a… date. With you.” This time you can’t stop the way you physically cringe at your awkwardness, though Bucky only seems to find it endearing because he laughs softly.

“Awesome,” Bucky breathes out, giving you the softest gaze you’ve ever received, and the amount of restraint it takes for you to not melt into his arms is astounding. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Your voice goes a little high. Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so charming?

At that, the Alpha brings your hand up to his lips at the same time he leans forward and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to your knuckles, looking you in the eye all the while. And the squeak that escapes your lips would almost embarrass you if you weren’t having an out-of-body experience.

“Okay, darling.”

Bucky releases your hand, walks back a few steps, gives you a wink, and then turns around to leave, sparing you one last glance before exiting.

____________

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

Everything is coated in golden honey, cotton-candy clouds, an ever-flowing river.

It’s ecstasy, his body aflame as it moves, rocking forward, pulling back, then pushing forward again. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and short and breathy gasps fill his ears as grunts and groans travel up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes open, and the view makes his heart want to stop.

It’s you, with your arms above your head, body bare to him and, wait. Someone’s behind him. The person's strong arms wrap around his waist and his muscled chest presses against his back, and then a metal hand turns his head to the left. And there’s Bucky, his Alpha. Bucky presses a filthy kiss to his lips while the brunette’s hands rest on his hips, aiding in their movement. With a quick smack to his backside, Steve gets back into the action, grinding his hips against your pelvic bone before slowly pulling out. The force of the forward thrust of his hips causes you to shriek, your breasts bouncing wildly as he continues his harsh thrusts.

It takes no time at all for Steve to feel his knot throb, threatening to expand and lock into your sweet pussy as he fills you with his cum. He’s close. Oh so fucking close when you moan.

“Alpha!”

Steve wakes with a gasp, his eyes flying open and heart racing as he tries in vain to cling onto any remnants of sleep, desperately hoping to finish the dream - his first wet dream in a while.

“Stevie?” Bucky appears from his left, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping from the shower. “You okay, Alpha?”

Steve shudders, the way you sweetly moaned for him, for your Alpha, coming to the front of his mind, and his cock throbs in a rude reminder of his current predicament.

“Y-yeah, I’m, fuck…” Steve trails off, his hand sneaking under the covers and grasping the base of his cock. “I’m good, baby. Just…”

“Just had a wet dream?” Bucky chuckles, walking over to their bed and sitting sideways on it so he can face Steve and run a hand through his already messed-up hair. “I could hear you whimpering from the shower.”

Bucky then flings the covers back, shooing Steve’s hand away from his cock so Bucky can grasp it. “I heard you whining for her, our sweet little Omega. She’s perfect, isn’t she? She’s so small compared to us, bet we’d break her the first time we get our knots in her perfect pussy.”

Bucky’s hand is jerking Steve off in earnest, his grip is tight as he strokes and pulls and flicks his wrist every so often. And Steve is helpless but to let him, to listen to his mate spout filth of how well you’d take them, how sweet you’d be for them, how he’d let Steve be the first to take you. He takes everything he’s given, gripping the sheets tight enough that he’s sure they're tearing, letting his pleasure climb higher and higher by the second.

But what really sets him off is Bucky’s growl, “I had to jerk myself off in the shower just listening to you moan for our Omega.” Steve cums with a shout, his eyes clenching shut, and he’d be embarrassed about how fast he came if it weren’t for the extremely vivid dream he just woke up from.

It takes a few moments for Steve to get his bearings until he’s finally able to open his eyes and meet Bucky’s playful gaze. Steve wants to feel bad about dreaming about you when you’re not even theirs, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Just thinking of you made him shoot off like a rocket, he doesn’t really know how he’s going to handle actually being with you.

But they hadn’t even taken you on a date yet, and they both get the feeling it might take a while before you feel comfortable enough to give yourself over to them like that. But that doesn’t matter, because Steve is sure that he and Bucky will wait however long is needed for you to feel comfortable like that with them.

“So,” Bucky says with a smirk, bringing his hand up to lick Steve’s cum off of his hand. Steve groans in response. “You feelin’ better about today?”

Ever since they both asked you out neither has gone back to your studio, they didn’t want to make you anxious since they knew they both asked you out and you might get even more conflicted if you saw them again since then. Steve’s been worried. He doesn’t want to back out, God no. He just… he really wants this to work out. And every awful scenario keeps playing in his mind on a loop.

What if you get too overwhelmed with both of them together? What if you turn them down when you realize they’re mated? What if you’re disgusted and don’t even want to be their friend? What if -

“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Steve sighs. “Stop thinking too hard, it’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“No, Steve.” Bucky sighs and gets off the bed, then he crouches down so his face is level with his mate’s. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that everything would work out and I’m going to fulfill that promise today. We’re going to go to the class, explain everything to her, and ask her out together.”

Bucky pauses to lean forward and press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“She likes you, baby. And she likes me. That’s why she agreed to go out with us. It might be a little weird for her since two mated Alphas aren't common, especially since she doesn’t seem used to Alphas flirting with her at all. But, it’s going to be okay in the end. Everything will work out.”

Bucky kisses Steve again, and Steve gives his Alpha a gentle smile.

“I love you, Alpha.”

Bucky smiles back and says, “I love you too, Alpha.”

____________

“Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble to yourself, running your hands down the front of your apron for the hundredth time. “Everything is going to be okay. They don’t know you’re going out with both of them, everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, you mumble another ‘I can do this’ before turning around, jumping in shock when you see Tori standing in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, Tori! Warn a girl, will you?”

Tori laughs, smirking. “Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you that your Alpha, Bucky, is here with some friends but I didn’t want to interrupt your pep-talk.”

Oh shit, in your panic you didn’t even realize your class starts in less than ten minutes. But then you realize a certain word she used. Your Alpha.

“He’s not my Alpha. He’s just… an Alpha that happens to like me and wants to take me on a date.”

Your eyes widen in horror, because the realization that you’re actually going on a date with him, and, separately, Steve, in just a few hours is hitting you in full force.

Oh God, how am I going to survive today?

Tori pulls you out of your thoughts, literally, by grabbing your bicep and leading you out of the back office.

“Whatever you say, babe. Now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

When you get to the studio part of your store you see him, well, them. It’s Bucky, surrounded by about ten other people, all talking and laughing. Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d bring all of his friends.

There are about five other people milling about, looking at all the different canvases and paints available for the class. It makes you happy that you had so many people show up, even if most of them probably had to be convinced to come.

There’s just one person missing; Steve. It’s only two minutes from twelve, and you can’t help the disappointment at the fact that he probably forgot or, worse, was just joking about being interested in you and doesn’t actually want to see you.

It hurts you, deeper than it probably should, but you mask the hurt when you get up to Bucky and his friends.

“Um, hi, Bucky,” You say softly, glancing over at his friends all looking at you with knowing smirks.

“Ah!” The Alpha says, smiling widely at you. “Hello, darling.”

It takes everything in you for you to not melt right into the floor, both from embarrassment from having his friends chuckle in amusement as well as his smooth yet low tone directed at you.

You turn slightly to the group of people behind him, all giving you amused expressions and small waves. You wave back at them with an awkward smile, then turn back to the Alpha in front of you. “Um, I… It’s nice of you to come.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky winks at you, and you press your lips shut so as to not let out the high-pitched whine that wants to be set free.

After a tense few seconds of silence, Tori appears from beside you. “I hate to break up your moment but it’s time to start.”

“Oh! R-right.” Your heart is racing ever so slightly, but it’s also hurting. Because it seems like Steve really did bail.

That is until you ask everyone to sit wherever they want. Bucky sits at the front, taking the easel closest to you. His friends and the other patrons all sit as well, and one spot remains open, right next to Bucky.

The bell above the door dings, and your head whips up to see the Alpha in question rushing through the door. He gives you a wide smile, and immediately makes his way to the empty seat.

Fuck.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine!” Your heart rate increases again, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive this class, especially considering Bucky is already giving you a heady gaze.

“O-okay, everyone, let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, the class goes by pretty smoothly. However, the intense stares from both Steve and Bucky, as well as their smirks and Bucky’s occasional winks, make you stutter over your words every once in a while. That would cause Bucky’s friends to snicker and smirk. Though it seems relatively harmless, simply finding amusement in watching you get flustered over flirting with Bucky but not with any malice.

Still, it’s going well.

It’s not until you tell everyone to put down their brushes that your nerves return, hoping that Steve won’t stick around and you can just meet him at the diner he suggested.

But, fate has other plans. Because Bucky’s friends stand and choose to hang around the window, looking at some of your other displayed paintings. The others came up to you with thanks, complimenting your work as well as your teaching skills, all of which make you smile so wide you’d think it’d hurt.

But then they leave, and after the last lone customer leaves, you turn and see, oh no. Fuck. Steve and Bucky are talking, laughing, standing way too close to one another for two people who don’t know each other. You’re standing by your easel still, eyes locked on to them, frozen. Because you have a strange inkling that they do actually know each other, which would mean that they would know you’re going on a date with both of them.

Then why would they ask you out if that were the case?

It takes everything in you not to run away when Bucky turns to face you with a wide smile, Steve turning next and smiling too.

“Hey, darling,” Bucky says, walking toward you when he realizes you’re frozen in place. He stops in front of you, and Steve follows his lead and stands next to him. They look at each other for a moment, Steve nodding his head once before Bucky turns to you and opens his mouth.

But you’re panicking. Because you’ve already decided that they’ve just now found out and are going to cancel the dates and maybe insult you for accepting a date from both of them. Even though, logically, you know they would never say anything even remotely rude to you, your anxiety is telling you that they would. They will. So you take it upon yourself to apologize.

“Guys, I-I am so sorry! I know I shouldn’t have accepted a date with both of you but I really, really like both of you and I didn’t know how to choose because I don’t want to choose between you two because you’re both really nice and amazing and I know it sounds awful that I want both of you when you’re probably not even interested anymore because why w-”

“Darling!” Bucky cuts you off, placing a warm hand on your bicep, squeezing it once, and then running his hand down your arm until he can take your hand in his.

“It’s okay, honey,” Steve says, bringing up a hand to gently turn your head to face him more directly.

“I-It… It is?”

They both give each other another glance while they chuckle to themselves. Steve takes your other hand, slowly rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“We have something to tell you, darling.” Bucky sighs, then clears his throat. “We… planned this. We didn’t want to tell you upfront because we didn’t want to scare you away, because we really like you too. We’re… Steve and I are…” He trails off, and now his nerves are swirling deep in his stomach. Steve steps in for him though.

“We’re mates. And we know it’s not common, and two Alphas with an Omega isn’t common either, so we didn’t want to be too overbearing by flirting with you together. We’ve been wanting to court an Omega together so we wanted you to get to know us individually so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed because we can be… a lot. We’re sorry we lied.”

By the time they’re done speaking, you think you’re dreaming. No, you’re positive you’re dreaming. They’re mates? And, as Steve said, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common. Even still, that doesn’t bother you. You’re big on doing what you want as long as no one is getting hurt. And you can understand why they didn’t want to approach you together, because, yeah, even just being in both of their presences makes your heart race and stutter.

But, they both want you? Like, together? They want to court you and maybe bring you into their relationship? It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, and even then it was with a Beta, so you can’t even imagine how dating two Alphas would be.

“Oh.” Smart. Really fucking clever. God, why can’t you just say anything?

“Do you… Do you not want to date us?” Steve sounds disappointed, sad. And the way he frowns makes you mentally slap yourself out of your haze.

“No! I- I do! I just… I’ve never dated two Alphas. I don’t mind that you’re mated, really. I’m just not used to…” You trail off, biting your lip and glancing down, realizing that they still have hold of your hands. It makes your skin tingle, their large and warm hands fill your entire body with fire, and the smile that returns to Steve’s face makes you smile too.

“You’re not used to what?” Bucky asks, squeezing your hand.

“To being wanted this much, I guess.”

You miss the way both Alphas look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, both men frowning now.

“How about this,” Steve says, bringing up his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “We’ll cancel the dates for today. And we can go on one tomorrow, together. All of us. And if you think it over more tonight and decide you don’t want to anymore, then that is okay. But we really do like you, honey.”

Well, you’d never stood a chance against them from the very first meetings, so there’s not really a doubt in your mind that you do want to go on that date, it’s just your anxiety that’s causing you to doubt their feelings.

But Tori’s voice pops up in the back of your head telling you to stop overthinking, to just take a chance. So, that’s what you do.

“O-okay. Tomorrow is good.”

Both Alphas smile, simultaneously sighing in relief at your words. Bucky then releases your hand so he can pull out his phone, unlock it, then hand it to you.

“Here, we’re going to go but you can give me your number so we can talk over more details before tomorrow.”

You do so, typing in your number and watching with dazed eyes as they gather their things to leave. And when they’re about to leave, both men make quick moves of kissing each of your cheeks before retreating with charming smiles.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling?” Bucky asks, only leaving when you give him a nod and a wide smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

tagging: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @meteorshowercoffee / @wandaneedstherapy / @buckysbarne / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @p1ut0smoon / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @sweater-bee / @stuckysbike / @lovelylittleleigh / @buckyshbic / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @glistenuplove / @monicachic13 / @bbellen1411 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @ladyravenclaw / @sadsadbabygirlrob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @sweetmoonlove0214 / @yesprettypleasesir / @duckies16 / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @xonickibaby / @matchat3a

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stevebucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve #alpha!stucky #my writing

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.

#skull rock to lover’s lake missing scenes are becoming my new fave (of which i have many faves ❤️)#eddie and lucas #pre steddie #steve and lucas #steve and max #eddie and max #lumax #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #lucas and erica #steve and erica #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #steve harrington #steve x eddie #lucas x max

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itsbeeble · 4 months

Text

NO BITCHES?

SUMMARY: When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

GENRE: smut, fluff, crack, mild angst

PAIRING: Eric Sohn x afab!reader (ft hak, sunwoo, sunwoo's gf, and sangyeon)

WC: 10.5k (there go my plans of proving Ally wrong)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: um... okay so virgin!eric, kinda dom!reader, eric's a fucking loser, reader kinda makes fun of him at first for being a virgin, reader kinda teaches eric about everything from kissing to uh...yeah, dry humping, kissing, making out, oral (m and f receiving), eric cums in his pants, eric plays fnaf, um...public making out? public fingering?, multiple orgasms, eric goes from little virgin boy to I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED MORE GLITTER real fast, sunwoo slander, sunwoo's annoying in this idk, eric's a dumb gamer boy who needs desperate help from the boy who concussed his gf (cough sunwoo), slight bit of miscommunication?, eric cries (ummmm dacryphilia?), reader also cries (again...dacryphilia?), edging el oh el, sunwoo and. reader know the importance of CONSENT, i think that's all the important stuff

A/N: I'm never gonna beat the allegations... ally will always think i bias eric. Anyway, happy birthday to my little munchkin princess eric sohn 🥰🥰

Eric was practically shaking as he approached you. Scratch that, he was definitely shaking but he could blame the ripples covering the drinks in his hand on the pumping base. It thrummed in his veins, or maybe that was his pulse steadily increasing when he locked eyes with you.

You. His gorgeous, intelligent, perfect…

Lab partner. You were his lab partner and at that very moment, nothing more. At least, not in your eyes. Eric, though? He was enamored by you. The way you laugh, the teasing grin when he does something wrong and you scold him, the way your body looks in that dress—

“Hi.” You look away from your friends and face him, a curious look on your face. He’s starting to feel warm. Was it warm in here? He thinks he’s starting to sweat, and can feel something drip down the back of his neck.

“Hi…?” Your hands are empty, and Eric forces himself not to jump up and down with glee that he doesn’t have to make the excuse of having two drinks for himself.

“I’m— Do you—” He stutters, and heat begins to spread from his neck to his cheeks as your friends giggle. You just smile. A kind smile that has his body slowly relaxing the more he looks at your face. “Do you wanna drink— I mean— fuck, I meant do you want a drink. Not— not do you wanna drink— I mean that could— that is also a question, but—”

More laughter from your friends and Eric suddenly thinks he’s gonna throw up all over you, your dress, and his nice white button-up shirt that he’d forced Sangyeon to iron for him.

“Thank you, Eric.” You say, reaching for the cup in his left hand. Your fingers brush against his, and his knees begin to wobble visibly. Your smile disappears into a concerned frown, and suddenly Eric’s attention is on your lips. He isn’t paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Can’t find himself caring that your friends are still laughing at the scenario, nor that you shoo them away.

“Eric?” Your hand waves in front of his face, effectively catching the boy’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Eric says it far too quickly, knowing immediately that you don’t believe him. Fortunately, one of his many charms is that he’s very good at lying to people. “I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”

You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound that he’s ever heard.

“You just— you seem a little uncomfortable right now.” You lean close to him, scanning his face under the flashing lights. You can hardly make out his features under the colors. Blue, purple, red, white, green, yellow. All the colors under the rainbow covered his face and changed every few seconds. When they flashed white, you swear you can see a flush in his cheeks.

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” He leans toward you with a sudden surge of confidence that has your heart pounded a bit. “Why would I ever be uncomfortable around the most beautiful girl in the building?”

And there it is, folks, you think. Your eye twitches, something so subtle that Eric fails to catch it. The irritation, the disappointment.

“Ah, I see.” You grimace, and Eric begins to panic again.

“What— did I upset you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Eric, if you wanna get into my pants you’re gonna have to try better than that.”

Eric’s heart drops to the floor, his face flushing even more as he begins to panic. He stutters, he tries to backtrack, he tries to explain himself. You, however, are hearing none of it. Not a single word that comes out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Stop, Eric.” You snap and his mouth snaps shut. “Just…Just stop.”

You set the cup he’d given you down on the table, and he stares at it dumbly while you storm away to find your friends again. The amber liquid in the cup sloshes with the base echoing around it and the loud noise of partygoers around him.

He watches it spill over the lip of the cup, and then sets his own cup down next to it, turning around to return to the party but the weight of crushing rejection sits uncomfortably on his chest.

It’s two days later when you see Eric again. Monday morning, an 8AM Physics lecture that no one wants to be in. Two weeks into the semester, and almost twenty people had already dropped the class. He walks in with a black hat covering his head, and a white tee shirt covering his torso. It’s certainly not clothing suitable for the cold air of early February, but he’d been unable to do his laundry over the weekend due to the parties on Friday and Saturday and the neverending clean-up that occurred on Sunday.

He spots you, tucked well into the second row, and his eyes light up. Yours, on the other hand, narrow. You keep your gaze on him while he makes his way up to you as quickly as possible, hoping to have a chance to talk to you before the lecture begins.

“Hey,” he grins at you, gently setting his bag on the chair to his left and turning to face you. Your eyes are still narrowed with suspicion. “How was your weekend?”

How was your weekend? It’s as if the both of you hated that question; one of you cringing with something close to disgust, the other with something like horror. Is he stupid?

“It was fine,” you tell him curtly. Eric frowns, leaning back in his chair when you turn your gaze to the front.

“Did I do something wrong?” He blurts out, and your shoulders sag. Was that the wrong thing to ask? Did he do something wrong?

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” You hiss out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He opens his mouth to speak, but he has a hard time finding the words. What is he even supposed to say? What if you think he’s an asshole for not knowing what was wrong? What if you never smile at him again?

“I— honestly I really don’t know!” You scoff and Eric sits up, leaning forward on the table to get a better view of your face. You can see the pout, see the way his eyebrows knit together in what you can only assume is faux confusion. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he did.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You look at him fully now and watch the way his body recoils from the words. Hurt, confusion. No anger. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Eric Sohn angry in the two years you’d shared classes with him.

“What— what did I even do?” The professor walks in, and he hushes his voice. “I can’t fix things if I don’t know what I did wrong!”

“That’s your own damn fault then, isn’t it?” You click your pen, and Eric shuts up. You almost feel bad, carefully watching as he takes out his own notebook to begin taking notes. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the lecture, and you feel a pang of regret in your chest. Maybe he really doesn’t know what he did wrong, you think, nibbling on your lip in thought. No, there’s no way he doesn’t know. He’s the smartest guy in the room, no way does he not know what—

You glance at Eric again, this time turning your head to fully look at him. His blond hair falls over his eyes, even with the hat covering his head. His shoulders are hunched, his hand moving so quickly over the lined paper so that he can at least try to keep up with your professor. For a moment, you think about Eric Sohn. About the frat boy who had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met. About the boy who once gave you notes far more detailed than you’d ever written during the week you were sick. About the boy who—

No, you shake your head and begin to write down more equations you know you’re going to have to ask Eric about later. He’s a frat boy. All he wants is a good fuck and then he’s gone.

But why did he seem so hurt when you spoke to him so rudely? When you turned him away not once, but twice within the past three days.

You liked him, you really did! He was kind, thoughtful, and he was always helping anyone he could. He never refused to help anyone, even if it was a subject that he didn’t know that well. Had you gotten it wrong? Was he just trying to talk to you and you had responded—

Your pen clicks again as you give up on the notes, and you lean back in your chair to squint at the whiteboard in front of you.

Talking with Eric Sohn was inevitable, but it was only a matter of how long you could avoid the topic—

“I want all of you to pair up. These will be your partners for the midterm project.”

Eric’s gaze turns to you uneasily, tilting his head in question. You bite down hard on your tongue, fighting every urge inside of you to turn around and ask the girl behind you to be partners.

Fuck, how could you say no to those eyes?

Your room is brighter than Eric thought it would be. When you originally invited him over to study that night, he had been terrified. Was your apartment going to be almost falling apart? What if it was really nice and he broke something? What if you killed him and stuffed him into a dumpster?

Fortunately, none of those things were necessarily true. Your building wasn’t falling apart, thankfully, although it was arguably nicer than any other off-campus apartments and you could still choose to kill him.

It was nice, though. It was a two-bedroom apartment that you shared with your friend Eunseung, one full bathroom and another half-bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a nice-sized living space. According to what you told him in the last semester, the rent wasn’t too awful either.

The walls of your bedroom were yellow, but not an ugly shade of yellow. It was pastel, not quite bright enough to be harsh on the eyes but not dark enough to make it hard to see. You’d lined bookshelves up to the wall, most filled with books but some with photos and plants and music albums. You had a small desk in the corner, and your bed was aligned with the center of the back wall, a light green comforter covering white sheets.

“I’m surprised we’ve never studied here.” You hum, but your tone is distant. Eric laughs dryly and sets his bag down on the ground next to your bedframe.

“You prefer the library,” he points out. “The lighting is easier for your eyes.”

For a moment, you pause in your motions. How did he—

“How did you know that?” You ask, turning to face him. You can see the flush in your partner’s cheeks, and he ducks his head so that the baseball cap on his head covers his eyes.

“I just— you would always squint when we studied at the library or— or at the TBZ house. I just…I figured that was the reason.” I pay attention. That’s what you knew he meant.

Why does a boy who only wants to get into your pants care so much about you?

“Oh.” You dig your laptop out of your bag and take a seat on your bed, leaning against your pillows with your legs straight out in front of you. Eric joins you, sitting crosslegged at the other end of the bed. He’s careful not to get too close, shifting away from you when you adjust your position. Your skirt flares out to the side, ruffled by the blanket and exposing your thighs a bit more. Eric has to force his eyes to remain on his laptop. You notice, but there’s no anger with it. You choose to not even acknowledge it.

“So what do we wanna do for our project?” His eyes flick over to you, and you shrug.

“We could build something?” You suggest. “Maybe, like, a paper airplane launcher?”

He hums, tilting his head back and wrinkling his nose in thought.

“What about something with electromagnetism?” You nod slowly.

“That could be good. We could keep with the idea of building something and make an electric motor with things people have lying around their houses?”

Eric grins at you. “Now we’re thinking. We’ll have this done in no time at all.”

Eric was right.

The brainstorming and research portion of the project had been completed within a few hours, and the two of you had cast your laptops to the side to search your apartment for things to use. Paper clips, some sort of copper wire (you had no idea why anyone would have a copper wire hanging around their house. Eric, however, said that there were several around the frat house), wood, some batteries. Anything that the two of you could use. The only thing neither of you had was a staple gun.

“It’s getting late,” Eric notes with a quick glance toward your living room window. You hum in response, lying back on your couch with your phone in your hand. “I should get going soon.”

Your eyes flick to him, but he isn’t looking at you. “Do you wanna stay the night?”

Silence. A long moment of silence, and then Eric looks at you with a look nearing scandalized.

“What?” You sit up, draping your arms over the back of your couch and getting a better look at him.

“You heard me.” His face is bright red, similar to the night of the party.

“Why would— why would I want— I mean th— thank you for the offer but— but I can’t stay the night. Why would— where would I even sleep? I don’t have clothes to sleep in!” He throws every excuse he could possibly think of at you, adding to your amusement. He had no clothes, where would he sleep, you had classes earlier in the morning than him, it would be weird if he stayed the night. It was cute.

You’ll admit it, Eric was cute. The puppy-like look in his eyes, the pout on his lips. Everything about him was cute. It almost shocked you how fast you were able to get over the anger that he only wanted to sleep with you. In fact, you weren’t sure that’s what he even wanted from you. Only one way to find out, right?

“Eric,” you finally cut off his rambling and his voice stops, leaving your apartment oddly quiet. “Come here.”

He listens, slowly slinking toward you. Eric is nervous, you can tell. Every step he takes, every twitch when you shift your body. It fills you with pride, or maybe some other emotion.

Eric stops when he’s right in front of you, just a few steps from the back of the couch and both of you (really just him) are all too aware of how his crotch is level with your mouth.

“I wanna tell you something,” you beckon him toward you with one finger and he slowly, albeit a bit awkwardly as well, bends down so that his face is just above yours. Heat radiates off his face, so hot that you may start sweating soon. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands gripping the couch for dear life, short nails digging into the cheap fabric.

“Sure.” Eric’s voice is hoarse, and it makes you smile.

“I kinda like you, Eric.”

Your lips press gently against his. Entirely experimental, just enough to see what he would do. His body seizes up, his breath hitching in his throat. He doesn’t move against you, doesn’t tilt his head or part his lips. He sits there like the lead in a lame drama where the main characters seem like they couldn’t be less into each other. You begin to pull away from him, fearing you’d made him a bit uncomfortable, but a whine is pulled from his throat when your lips part from his.

You look at him, but he’s already looking at you with wide, bulging eyes.

“Eric…” You have a sneaking suspicion that you know why he didn’t kiss you. “Have you…has no one ever kissed you before?”

“What?” The boy’s voice is shrill, and you know the answer. “Of— of course, I’ve been kissed? What kind of question is that?”

Your lips quirk up. “Are you sure? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.”

“What— why would I be embarrassed?” His frustration and denial are cute. Adorable, really.

“Because you’re a sophomore in college and have been kissed once— by your physics partner, no less.” You smirk playfully and then gasp, pushing up and toward him suddenly. He reels back, nearly falling backward with the suddenness of the motion. “Eric Sohn! Are you a virgin?”

Eric looks like he’s about to cry from embarrassment, and he turns away from you completely. You grimace briefly and climb off the couch to come around and stand in front of him. He avoids your gaze by looking above you, around you, at the floor and the walls.

“Eric,” your voice is gentle now. He doesn’t move, nor does he make any noise. He’s like a deer in headlights. “Eric, can you look at me.”

“No,” he denies, crossing his arms over his chest. You feel a bubble of amusement rising in your stomach. “You’re just gonna make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” You promise, your hand grazing his forearm. Eric’s eyes lock with yours, and for once you choose to hold his gaze. “Now, can you tell me the truth so I can help you?”

“Help me,” he echoes with an air of offense. “I don’t need help!”

“Eric, you’re a sophomore in college who’s in the most popular frat on the campus. Add onto that your personality and your good looks, you should be getting bitches left and right.” You say pointedly and the tips of his ears flush red. Or, rather, as red as they can when his whole face is burning up from your prior insinuations.

“What if I’m just waiting for marriage?” He counters. “Or— or the right person?” Your lips draw into a thin line, knowing that statement was bullshit.

“We both know you wouldn’t be hard as a rock right now if that was the case.”

Eric’s heart plummets to the ground, his eyes following it to check for himself. To his complete and utter dismay, you weren’t lying. Pressing against the front of his cargo pants was the solid outline of his member, straining against the seam and begging to be released.

“I— I am so— so sorry,” he stammers, his hands yanking the edge of his sweatshirt down to cover himself, his hands remaining carefully placed over his crotch but he knows it’s too late. “I didn’t— I don’t— oh my god I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, holding tightly onto his sleeve so he can’t run for the door. “I knew you wanted to sleep with me, it was kind of obvious.”

“No I— I don’t want—” Eric frantically shakes his head. “I don’t— I can’t— I don’t wanna sleep with you— I mean I do, I really really do, but not— not like this—”

The hand on his sleeve comes up to grab his cheeks, squeezing them together until his lips are pushed out and he can’t speak anymore.

“You can admit it, Eric.” You hum, and with your hand still on his face, you begin to walk him back and around to the side of the couch. He yelps when you push him back, letting go of his face and watching him fall over the arm and land with an oof on the cushions. “You can admit that you wanted to fuck me from the moment you saw me.”

“But I—” He choked on spit before he could finish talking, eyes widening into saucers when you climbed onto the couch, crawling up to sit on his lap. He’s sitting up straight now, but the risk of falling back again is high with nothing to support his spine. Your hands just rest on his shoulders, not digging in or moving to grasp anything else. They stay there, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Tell me if you don’t want me to continue, Eric.” His hands are trembling, his pulse higher than it’s ever been. He slowly rotates his body, placing his feet firmly on the ground and resting his spine against the back of the couch so that he doesn’t hurt either of you.

“I want—” his voice cracks.

“What do you want?” Your lips are on his neck, featherlight kisses being left in your wake and knocking the breath out of him. He’d never felt like this, he’d never been touched like this save for his own hand in the darkness of his room with an animated video on loop on his laptop screen. At his lack of response, you pull your lips back from his neck. Eric lets out a loud whine at this, his left hand coming to the back of your head to lightly try and push you back into him.

“Keep doing that,” he gasps out, and you smile.

“Don’t you want me to kiss you?” You ask him, and another whine tumbles from his lips.

“I— fuck, I do— god, why are you doing this to me?”

“I just wanna know what you want, Eric,” you’re teasing him and you know it, but you’re pretty sure Eric might fall to pieces if you don’t give him something soon. “Can’t you tell me what you want?”

“Just—” he leans his head back, and you watch the rapid bobbing of his throat as he tries to swallow and take in air and do anything to calm himself down. “Just do something.”

“What’s the magic word?” He raises his head, gasping when he finds your lips suddenly inches from his own.

“Ple— please?” Your lips quirk up.

“Actually, it was—”

You don’t get the chance to tease him anymore. He crushes your lips together with so much force that it almost hurts. There’s nothing coherent about the way he kisses you, although you could hardly call it a kiss at all. It was more him putting his mouth against yours, tilting his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s clear from the moment it started that he’s never been kissed before and that knowledge has you squirming in his lap.

“Eric,” you’ve barely pulled back and he’s chasing your lips as if you’re a glass of his favorite wine. “Eric, hold on.”

“Why?” His eyes flutter open and you have to force yourself not to kiss him senseless, even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Just—” You inhale deeply and the scent of his cologne begins to overwhelm your senses, practically intoxicating you. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He nods, his previous embarrassment returning when you say that. “I mean…Yeah, I— I haven’t. But I—I’ve used WikiHow—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off and choose to ignore the comment about WikiHow, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Just follow my lead.”

When he nods, you press your lips against his again. This time, it’s more fluid. It’s easier for you to kiss him when he’s copying your movements. It’s still awkward, your teeth smacking together painfully, but you can tell he’s getting used to the feeling. You’re able to part your lips against his, to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to slip out and brush against his lower lip. His whole body jolts, his hands digging into the fabric of your skirt hard enough that your skin would be bruised the next day. His hips roll up against yours, drawing a heady moan out of you.

When Eric parts from you, his eyes are hazy. “Did— did you like when I did that?”

“Yes,” you groan and begin to roll your hips down into his, watching the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his back arches off the couch.

“F-Fuck, okay,” He screws his eyes shut again, lips completely parted as the two of you begin to hump into each other like some damn animals. Your lips meld together again, and you let your tongue slither into his mouth. It’s obvious that Eric has no idea what to do with his tongue— pushing against yours aggressively, shoving it to the side, and trying to push his into your mouth— but as the minutes pass, he begins to understand what to do. He begins to understand what makes your body react positively and what has you unintentionally cringing away from him.

Your lips part from his one more time but you hardly give him time to complain before you place a kiss on his cheek, then the corner of his jaw, and then right below his ear. He emits a nearly wild moan at this, his hips jerking up into yours in such a way that his bulge presses against your clit and punches a moan out of you. Being the quick learner that he is, Eric adjusts his position and rolls his hips up again and again and again, addicted to the way you sound and feel against him.

“Eric,” you whine, parting from his neck. “Eric, oh my god.”

He just huffs into your collarbone, licking and sucking and trying desperately to not cum too soon, but you just feel so good against him that he just can’t help it.

His hips stutter against yours, and he moans so loud you fear that the neighbors hear it. You let him continue to grind into you, to work himself through his orgasm as your slips back and escapes you. It doesn’t matter, you’d get yourself when he leaves—

“You didn’t cum.”

“What?” You blink dumbly at him, and Eric begins to pout.

“You didn’t— you didn’t cum. You should’ve told me. I would’ve held off!” You knew that wasn’t true. He could barely hold himself together from a few kisses, what made him think he’d be able to hold himself off until you came?

“It’s fine, Eric.” You reassure him, but he’s having none of it. You can’t stop him from lifting you off his hips and settling you against the couch cushions. Well…you probably could, but you wanted to see where this went.

You watch as he unceremoniously yanks down your panties, not bothering with your skirt whether out of impatience or because he liked seeing you in it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Eric peers up at you, a boyish smile on his face.

“Can’t be that hard, right?” You laugh, choosing not to argue with him. You’d tell him, when it came time, where your clit is but for now? You’d let him work things out for himself.

Your body shudders when Eric takes his first taste, licking from the bottom to the top of your pussy. You’re amazed that he didn’t accidentally go too far down like most (slightly more experienced) men have. It’s almost impressive how much attention he pays to your quivering body, and you flip your skirt up so you can see his face buried into you. Every lick draws out a moan from both of you, and you can see him starting to roll his hips down onto the couch.

“Fuck,” his words are muffled by your cunt, and vile slurping noises accompany him. “Could get addicted to the taste of you.”

“Mm, feels good, Eric.” Your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands slipping down to tangle in his blonde strands of hair and tugging him up slightly. Your other hand taps at your clit lightly, making your body jolt a bit. “Here. This— fuck— feels good here.”

“That’s it?” He drops his head down again, swatting your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. His touch is much rougher than yours, his hands thick and calloused compared to your delicate ones. “Right here?”

You whine for him, and he has to bite on his tongue to not cum again so fast. He’s quick to attach his mouth to your clit, sucking violently and swiping his tongue against it. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you most certainly were now. It hadn’t taken him long at all to figure out what felt good for you. Reading your mind and body was almost second nature to him, it seemed, and it became abundantly clear when your orgasm began to rise again.

“Close, Eric!” You gasped out, “I’m close!”

He groans against you, catching your hips in his hands when they begin to roll into his face. Eric wanted to drown in you. He wanted to feel you shake around him for the rest of his damn life. He wanted to hear you screaming his name until your throat was raw and your voice was gone.

And the sight of you cumming on his face, your essence soaking his chin and dripping onto his sweatshirt?

If he could stay glued to you for the rest of his life, he fucking would.

Becoming a habit came easy for you and Eric. You’re not dating, but you’re unsure of whether the puppy-like boy cares or not. You discovered very quickly that he would do anything for you, would learn anything for you. You’d successfully taught him how to kiss a girl without looking like a dumbass (i.e. the straight-face-to-sudden-kiss scenario you’d faced too many times to count), how to finger you and hit all the right spots, where not to put his mouth and fingers unless explicitly told otherwise. There was, of course, your next problem.

Eric refused to put his dick in you.

You knew he was clean, both of you had gotten tested when you originally began screwing around. You knew he liked you, that much was obvious. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, he told you how much he loved you every time you gave him head. He just…never went farther than that. Was he scared? Did he not want you as bad as you (very clearly) wanted him? It made you nauseous to think about, but it was getting frustrating how all you two did was make out, grind on each other like teenagers, and give each other head every time you saw each other. Shit— he was even fine with fingering you underneath the table in your lecture the other day!

That’s why you developed a plan. Here you were, standing outside of the Tau Beta Zeta frat house under the guise of needing to work on your project (which wasn’t necessarily a lie) but really planning on getting him to finally fuck you. Yes, you were aware of the fact that he was a virgin but it was obvious from the start that he didn’t give a shit about that.

Unless he did. Your hand pauses just inches from the door, but you shake your head to clear the anxious thought and you knock on the door.

One, two, three…one, two three…one—

On the third round of knocks, a boy swings the door open. His eyes are wide, his hair in disarray.

“Hi.” You wave your hand with a smile, but the boy just stands there with a dumb look on his face. Were all the TBZ boys like this?

“…Hi?” He says it in the form of a question, which draws a laugh out of you.

“I’m Y/N.”

“…Sunwoo…”

“Oh, the star soccer player, right?” He nods and you grin. “I saw your last game, the one where your girlfriend— I’m assuming girlfriend— knocked some sense into you. You really killed it out there!”

“Thank you…uh…can— can I help you?” You rock back and forth on your heels, biting at your lip in thought. The idea of wearing a skirt is choosing to bite you in the ass as a cold breeze picks up.

“I’m here for Eric, actually. Um…Eric Sohn? I think he lives here, right?” Sunwoo’s jaw drops, his head dipping down as well and he steps to the side to let you in. You smile, using your feet to pull your shoes off as you step into the entryway. You see a pile of shoes to your left, the larger men’s pairs shoved into a large pile while some smaller women’s shoes sit neatly. You can’t help but wonder if it was the girlfriends that did this or if one of the frat members cares a bit more about them than the others.

“He’s…he’s on the second floor, third door on the left…” You thank Sunwoo, ignoring how he follows you with obvious confusion and awe. Another boy passes by you, staring in confusion but ends up in the same state as the soccer player when he explains the situation.

You knock before you enter Eric’s room, rocking on your heels again as you wait for some sort of response. You get none, and when you go to interrupt him, the second boy stops you.

“Hi, um, I’m Haknyeon— you can call me Hak, though— Eric’s— he’s— he’s gaming. You can just go in because there’s no way you’re gonna get his attention by— by, um— yeah.” He stumbles over his words in an almost incomprehensible way, but you get the basic idea.

“Thanks, Hak,” you dip your head and twist the doorknob. Sunwoo and Hak both watch you enter the room, only snapping out of their daze when you shut the door tightly behind you.

“You…you saw that too, right?” Haknyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder with a grin on his face.

“My best friend…” Sunwoo’s voice is quiet with confusion. “He’s…he’s getting bitches?”

“What did I say about saying that,” his girlfriend pops around the corner with a scowl on her face. Sunwoo’s face lights up, but it disappears at the scolding gaze she gives him.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts and she rolls her eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Give them some damn privacy,” she clicks her tongue, eyeing the door. “Lord knows they’re probably gonna need it.”

Eric is facing a large gaming setup when you enter the room. You can see the dark polo sweater which is partially unzipped to reveal some of his chest, the beige hat, and the khaki combo he had, unfortunately, chosen to wear today (you’re going to have to update his closet soon, whether you date him or not. You have to save the next girl he’s with). The lights, shockingly, are purple rather than the red you had expected. You can see expensive monitors and a keyboard, all of which are cleaner than any other gamer’s setup that you’d seen. In fact, his whole room is so much cleaner than you had ever given him credit for. You’d expected to see something absolutely filthy, but Eric never fails to shock you.

What doesn’t shock you, however?

Five Nights At Freddy’s playing on the screens.

You clear your throat, and he barely even spares a glance at you. You wonder if he even recognized that it was you—

“Yo, Y/N!” Oh god, this might not go as planned. “You’re early!”

“Figured I’d come by to hang out before we got started on the paper.” You come up behind him, dropping your bag and jacket by the edge of the bed, revealing the black sheer top you’d chosen to go with your white skirt. You’d also chosen the perfume you know gets his attention the most, the one that always has him practically gluing his face to your neck.

That doesn’t happen this time. He stays glued to his game, his legs spread wide open and tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips.

“Feel— fuck!” His body jerks when an animatronic (Foxy, maybe?) comes out of a vent and gives him barely enough time to start protecting himself. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I might take a while.”

You hum, not moving from your spot. Your hands are on the back of his gaming chair, your eyes focused on the screen with fake intrigue. He doesn’t acknowledge you, so you let your hands begin to sink onto his shoulders. His chin tilts toward you a bit, but he corrects himself and goes back to ignoring you even when your nails graze the skin of his collarbone.

“What are you doing?” Eric asks, but it’s more dismissive than anything.

“Just watching you play,” you reply with a sly grin. Another jumpscare appears, and he grunts when you intentionally dig your nails into him (something you’ve learned he loves over the past two weeks).

Part two of your scheme begins when you sink to your knees beside Eric and slip under his desk. This grabs his attention. Eric watches as you get comfortable, no longer paying attention to the screens in front of him when you run your hands up his thighs, grazing the button of his khaki pants.

“Y/N, this—” his breath catches in his throat when you finally undo the button and pull the zipper down. You can see his member already hardening, twitching in his boxers. “You don’t have to— I don’t— why—”

“Jus’ play your game, baby.” You purr, your fingers hooking under the band of his boxers to tug them and his pants down at the same time. His jaw is hanging open, eyes wide with awe, but you stop your movements. “Play your game, Eric, or I’m leaving.”

His response is immediate, sliding his chair closer to you and lifting his hips to let you work. Your smirk is wide, and you yank his clothing down in one go, letting them rest around his ankles. Eric’s knee begins to bounce, and you rest your hand on top of it to steady him. His member, in just a few moments, has completely hardened. You can see the slick precum beginning to leak from his tip, and you lower your mouth to catch each drop on his tongue.

The moan he emits is loud, and you pull your mouth back just an inch to dig your nails into his thigh.

“Stay quiet and don’t cum unless I say so.” He whimpers in response, and you bring your mouth back onto him. You begin by suckling at his tip, letting your tongue swirl around him like a lollypop, and listening to his barely restrained moans. You hear clicking and tapping on his keyboard, as well as random noises from the game

You take him a little deeper and his thighs tense, but he’s good at staying quiet. He’s good even when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Even when you take him so deep that you’re choking on him and spit is dripping from your mouth and onto his skin. Even when you begin hollowing your mouth and bobbing your head, and swallowing around him a few times when you take him all the way down so your nose is against his pelvis.

Another jumpscare and his hips jerk and force him farther down your throat. You moan around him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, and that elicits a whine from him.

“Y/N,” he pleads. “I’ve been s-so good for yo—you right? Haven’t— Haven’t I been good? Ple—please let me cum. Jus’ wanna cum, please?”

Eric sees you look up at him through your eyelashes, and just the sight of you slobbering all over him has his eyes rolling back in his head.

Then you pull off him completely, leaving his dick twitching and lonely against his stomach.

“Why did— why did you pull off?” His eyes are dazed, and you flash a coy smile at him.

“I told you to pay attention to the game, didn’t I?”

“I— yeah, you did but— but I just— you—” Eric is tearing up as you begin to push your body out from under the desk to stand in front of him.

“Poor baby,” you cup his cheek and your stomach churns when he leans into your palm with a sigh. “Should’ve just paid attention and beat the night, then, hm?”

“Please,” he whines, leaving little kisses on your palm and working his way to your wrist, your forearm, your elbow, and then he’s pulling you onto his lap so you’re nearly sitting on his dick. You can feel it pulsing against your core, and you can’t help the tiny rolls of your hips to gain some sort of friction. “Please, just— I’ll…I’ll do anything you want. I’ll— I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, fuck, I’ll— I’ll let you sit on my face if that’s what you want.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against his chest in thought. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

His body tenses and his cheeks begin to flush, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Eric,” you say softly, moving your hand to his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Eric, talk to me.”

“I— I don’t—”

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Eric,” you reassure him, stopping the ministrations of your hips and bringing your free hand to the side of his neck. “I just want to know why. I want to understand. Do you— do you not want me? Do you wanna save yourself for another girl?”

“No!” He snaps, his voice a bit harsher than he’d intended for it to come out but it has you flinching away from him. In a moment of panic, he brings his hands to your waist and tugs you closer to him. “I— sorry. It’s not— it’s not that at all.”

“Then why?” Your hands are playing with the ends of his blonde hair, and Eric swallows once. Twice. And then he tucks his head into your shoulder.

“I…I don’t know.”

You nod, disappointment filling you, but you don’t let it show.

“Let’s work on the project.” You slide off his lap, ignoring the somewhat heartbroken gaze he shoots you. “The paper is due in a couple of days, so I grabbed a few sources and drafted an outline.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just tucks his member back into his pants and comes to join you on his bed. The air is tense and you know he wants to say something. You wait for him to say it.

He doesn’t.

“Eric, you’re fucking stupid.” Sunwoo throws himself onto his best friend’s bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Eric hitting his head on his desk.

“I know…”

“I mean, we already knew this from previous incidents. Ahem, giving my then-crush-now-girlfriend a concussion. But holy shit I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse than that.”

“I know!” Eric whines, sitting heavily on the gaming chair he’d gotten head on almost four hours ago, and could have gotten laid in had he not been a damn moron.

“I mean, you’ve been trying to get laid by this chick for how long? And you cockblocked yourself because…” Sunwoo trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sits up. “Wait, why did you cockblock yourself?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eric huffs and leans his head back. “Fuck, she was so nice about it too. Too nice. I know damn well she’s pissed at me but she’s too fucking nice to say anything.”

“Well yeah,” Sunwoo shrugs. “Sex 101— don’t force yourself onto anyone. Hello? Why would she do that to you?”

Eric crosses his arms over his chest, using his feet to spin his chair back and forth lightly. You had been really sweet about everything. You could’ve gotten mad at him, especially since this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t. You wanted him to be ready.

And he was. He was so ready! He just— he gets nervous around you! What if he’s a disappointment? What if he’s so bad that you have to fake an orgasm? What if he doesn’t fit? What if he hurts you?

“Eric,” Sunwoo claps his hands together to snap Eric out of his thoughts. “Stop getting distracted while I’m trying to help you in a way that won’t lead to injuries.”

The poor, self-cockblocked boy lifts his head with a pout.

“There’s a party this weekend, right?”

“Yeah…” Eric tilts his head.

“Make sure she’s there. Use whatever excuse you need to, and make sure she shows up. Then, ask her to talk. Go somewhere private, talk to her, tell her you’re ready, and then fuck until the sun comes up.” Sunwoo claps again, throwing his out to the side in a cocky I just made the best plan ever manner. “First of all, gets you laid, second of all— free revenge on Sangyeon.”

Eric drums his fingers against his legs in thought. The plan was good, he’d admit that. Of course, not out loud. No, he would never let Sunwoo know that he was right about something.

“Fine,” Eric agrees. “But if shit goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Deal,” Sunwoo grins mischievously. “And if shit goes right, you owe me and my girlfriend dinner.”

“Deal.”

Eric doesn’t see you at all that week, something that has him nearly crying on the ground in Sangyeon’s bedroom. He’d texted you, asked if you were okay, sent you notes, told you about the party but didn’t outright invite you. Nothing. No sign of you in lectures, no texts from you aside from a confirmation that you’d submit your written portion of the midterm.

“Take a damn breath.” Sangyeon rolls his eyes and tugs a formfitting black mock-neck shirt over his head, sliding a silver chain around his neck afterward. “She’s probably busy.”

“But she never goes this long without texting me! Or being in a lecture!” The youngest member of the frat holds his head in his hands, staring down at the white buttondown shirt that hung somewhat loosely on his body.

“Maybe she hates you, I don’t know!” Sangyeon exclaims. “Stop bothering me about it!” Eric pouts up at the TBZ president.

“But you know how to handle these things!”

“Not when you’re on my ass about it all day every day for a week straight.” Sangyeon’s lip curls and Eric huffs, laying back on the hardwood floor. “Dude, just be patient. Who knows, maybe she was sick? Maybe she’ll show up today and you’ll get laid. Just. Be. Patient.”

And patient he was.

He lurked around the party, a drink in his hand and a ripped red baseball cap covering his head and shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the public. They didn’t need to know he’d cried over his two-year-long crush ghosting him.

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” He turns his body slowly, ready to crack a corny joke, and walk away from whoever yelled in his ear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. You’re in another tiny little black skirt and a black bralette that was used as a poor excuse for a shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. He nearly crumbles in front of you, ready to worship you and the ground you walk on, ready to take you in front of all these people so they know that he’s yours.

“Oh my god.”

You laugh at the dumbstruck look in his eyes, at the way his eyes are stuck on your chest, and the way your bralette pushes your boobs up just enough to catch attention.

“You okay, Eric?” Your hand is on his arm, and in an instant his cup is thrown to the side and his lips are on yours, his tongue shoved into your mouth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, and, really, the suddenness of it all, but you don’t complain. You love how frantic he is for you, love how he’s ready to risk it all after just a week of not seeing you.

When he parts from you, there’s a string of spit connecting your lips that only breaks when you swipe your thumb across his lip.

“How’s that for a hello?” You say just loud enough for him to hear it.

“We need to talk.”

“We do.” You confirm, but his lips are on yours again, and you’re so glad that everyone is distracted by a game of beer pong on the other side of the room. You let your eyes flutter shut, moaning into his mouth when he pushes his tongue against yours. They dance together, swirling around each other but not fighting for dominance. No, this kiss isn’t about that. This is two people being addicted to the taste of each other, two people who could never get enough of what the other has to offer.

You have to force yourself to part from him, turning away so you can find somewhere more private— preferably his bedroom. He doesn’t stray from you, gluing his lips to the side of your neck as you try to weave through the crowd. It’s not easy, especially with Eric on you and refusing to let go, but you don’t mind.

Not when he shoves you against his dresser as soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked.

The handles of the drawers dig against your spine, but you’re too distracted by Eric’s lips on your chest to care. His hat is missing, likely somewhere on the staircase. Your jacket has been thrown to the opposite side of the room, the straps of your bralette shoved down and both breasts freed from its confines so Eric can lick and suck and bite at the soft mounds.

“Eric,” you moan out, arching your back into his hunched form. He groans against you, sucking hard at your nipple and eliciting a loud moan from you. “Eric, pick me up.”

Without even pulling away, he does, plopping you unceremoniously onto his dresser and moving his lips to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand. Your hand comes to the back of his head, and you find yourself smiling at the desperation your lover shows.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Your composure is crumbling, but you don’t care. “Might have to disappear more often.”

He rips away from your chest, eyes narrowed into a glare. “Don’t even joke about that. I thought you died.”

You kiss him again, both hands holding his face to yours, and your legs wrap around his waist. Eric’s hands find your thighs and he lifts you off the dresser. He sucks on your tongue, biting on your lip when you start to pull away and you whimper at the sting of pain.

“Thought I died, hm?” You brush back the blonde strands of hair covering his sweaty forehead and smirk. “It’s a good thing I didn’t then, hm? What would you have done? Fucked your fist for the rest of your life?”

A muscle in his jaw feathers and he throws you down on his bed. You yelp, eyes widening at the personality change. A week ago, he would’ve been begging you for any touch, would’ve been falling apart just for one look at your dripping pussy. But now?

Now he looks like a starved animal, and you’re the first helpless creature he’s seen in weeks.

“Eric,” you warn, watching him unbutton his shirt. “Remember what I said.”

He eyes you, smirking at the way your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. It’s odd, isn’t it? You’d probably been bare in front of him countless times but you’d hardly seen him with his pants down.

“Holy fuck.” You stare at his torso, at the chiseled abs and biceps, at the veins in his arms, at the trail of hair leading down to his dick. “You’re— you’re fucking shredded.”

“Shredded?” He quirks an eyebrow, undoing his belt and the button of his pants so he can push them down and kick them to the side. “That’s the first word you thought of?”

“Well—” you clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him. “I mean— you are.”

“Cute,” He coos and crawls over you, hooking his fingers into the hem of your skirt. “May I?”

“You may,” you look at him again, then down his body and swallow hard at the sight of him. You’ve seen him many times. You’ve held him in your hand, in your mouth. You know what to expect.

So why does it make you so nervous now?

“You’re getting distracted,” Eric kisses his teeth, lowering his face to yours but not kissing you. He traces his nose across your cheek, light kisses from his lips going with it. His nose nudges against your jaw, urging you to tilt your jaw up so he can kiss you there. You do, and his lips feel like fire against your skin. “I thought you liked it when people pay attention?”

“I— I do!” You gasp out, and Eric laughs against your skin. Where the fuck is all this confidence coming from?

“Then why aren’t you paying attention to me?” His fingers press against your sopping-wet entrance and you lift your hips in a weak attempt to get them inside of you.

“I am!” Tears are welling in your eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Eric, please!”

He juts out his lip in a mocking pout, using the hand that’s not against your heat to wipe the tears away.

“Okay baby,” he says softly, sinking two thick, calloused fingers into you. “Don’t cry, not yet.”

The intrusion has you crying out and Eric does his best to hush you, to soothe you, and then he’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. Your fingers cling to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shift with every movement of his arm. Eric grins when your eyes finally flutter shut, when you finally give in to him. He praises you when he slips a third finger into your core, and then a fourth. He praises you as he works you through the sting, curling his fingers gently to search for the spot he knows would have you falling to pieces under him.

Eric finds it easily and is oh so pleased by your wail of his name. He grins almost maliciously, when you begin to shake, when your body begins to thrash, and your nails dig into his shoulders and drag down his back.

“Always so easy for me,” he hums, staring in awe at the wrinkle between your eyebrows and how your tongue practically hangs out of your mouth. When he knows you’re about to cum, he crushes his lips against yours again and begins to move his hand faster. You’re sobbing into his mouth, unable to kiss him back between your cries and moans, but Eric doesn’t mind.

He lets you grind against his hand until you’re not shaking anymore. Then, and only then, does he pull his fingers out of you, watching with curious satisfaction as your cum drips from his fingers and onto the blanket below you.

“Don’t— don’t sit there staring at that shit.” you hiss, but Eric just smiles.

“So you can speak coherently now?”

“Shut up and fuck me already, or do you need me to teach you how to do that too?”

Eric’s gaze hardens, his tongue pushing against his cheek. You push yourself to sit up, but Eric pushes you right back down and uses his hands to push your legs apart.

“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” he grunts, lining his member up with your entrance.

“Really? That’s not what it looked like three weeks ag—oh fuck!” Your back arches off the bed when he suddenly sinks into you. Four fingers seem to have been just barely enough, the sting fading just as fast as it came. Or maybe you just like the pain so much it turned into pleasure. Whatever the reason, you’re quick to tell Eric to pick up the pace.

You’re both shocked and impressed by the movement of his hips. He alternates between smooth, sharp rolls and harsh, pointed thrusts that have your body forced up the bed and the headboard knocking against the wall.

“You think I need your help?” Eric growls, digging his hands into your thighs and spreading them farther apart, lifting the lower half of your body a bit to change the angle. This brings a new pleasure to both of you. Something that you’ve never felt before, and has your mind reeling. “I didn’t need you. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. I craved you, craved your taste. It was pure fucking luck that you wanted me too.”

“Eric,” You gasp out, sinking your teeth into the side of his neck to leave another mark on his skin. “Eric, feels so good, god it feels so good please, please don’t stop. Don’t stop, oh my god!”

“Look at you,” he yanks your head out of his neck by your hair, staring down at your fucked out face as he continues to plow into you with no remorse. “All fucked out for me. I did this. Your little virgin boy. Isn’t it embarrassing?”

You whine in response but apparently, that isn’t what he’s looking for because he slows down at your lack of response.

“Answer me,” he hisses.

“I— I don’t— Eric I don’t—” You don’t even know what he’s trying to ask. You stopped listening as soon as he pulled your hair, the sting of it feeling too good. Eric laughs, picking up his pace again and dropping your head back down onto his pillows.

“What? Too fucked out to answer me? Who would’ve thought that I was the virgin and not you? What would people think if they walked in here and saw me fucking you like this?” He doesn’t expect an answer this time, not that you’d be able to give him one anyway.

Your legs draw tightly around his slim waist, holding him close as your orgasm approaches again, but Eric doesn’t seem to be even close to cumming. Even when your second orgasm washes over you, and then your third. He fucks you through each one, sweat dripping from his hair and down his torso until his body is sliding against yours. Your body feels numb, but at the same time, you can feel everything. Every drag of his length against your walls, every punch of his tip against your cervix. Your arms curl around his neck, but your grip is loose.

When Eric’s hips finally begin to stutter, you’re about four orgasms in, the fifth about to wash over you. Your voice is hoarse, a puddle of drool on the pillow under your head. You can’t find it in you to make any more noise, just gasping breathes and quiet whines. You cum together, and the feeling of his cum filling you has your back arching again. This time, Eric catches you and holds your body against his. He kisses you gently, uncaring that you can barely breathe let alone kiss him.

“That— that was a good talk,” he jokes, and you say nothing at first. “Um…are— are you okay?”

“You just—” you clear your throat, but it does nothing. “You just fucked me within an inch of my life, as a completely inexperienced virgin, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

Eric frowns, settling down on top of you, but careful not to lay his full weight onto your obviously aching body. He can see the bruises he’d left all over you— on your chest, your neck, your hips. Anywhere his lips or hands touched, there was a bruise left in his wake. He imagines, however, that he looks no different. He can feel the scratches you left on his back, marring every inch of his skin and likely drawing a bit of blood, he can see a hickey on his arm that you left at some point and can imagine how the front of his body looks.

“So…so you’re not okay?” He tries and you huff, throwing an arm over your eyes.

“Eric, I love you, but you’re such a dumbass.” You groan, shoving him off your body so you can breathe properly. “Go draw a bath. I’m gonna need one after that shit.”

“Before I do, can you answer one question?” You pry your eyes open to scowl at him and his damn puppy-like eyes.

“What?”

“Are we— are we dating now?”

“We won’t be for long if you don’t get that fucking bath going.”

“Aw, yeah!” Eric cheers, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom to start the bath like you asked. “Guess who isn’t single anymore, Sunwoo!”

“What’s your problem?” Haknyeon peers at Sangyeon over the lip of his mug. The frat president is glaring at you and Eric with something murderous in his eyes, which seem to have dark bags under them.

“My bedroom is right next to Eric’s.” Haknyeon raises an eyebrow, and Sangyeon clears his throat. “My bedroom is next to Eric’s.”

“Okay…oh. OH. Oh, shit man, I’m sorry.” Haknyeon turns his gaze to the two of you, grimacing at the thought of how long Sangyeon could have been kept up, but smiling when he sees how the two of you are cuddled on the couch. The grimace returns when he sees the state of your necks, neither of you having bothered to hide what you did to each other.

“I mean,” Sunwoo sits on the counter, a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You kinda deserved it after what you did to him.”

“What the fuck— what did I do to him?” Sangyeon exclaims, and Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“You fucked your girlfriend for, what, seven rounds straight? The poor man didn’t get any sleep that night. Be glad you were able to rest after that.”

Haknyeon raises his cup, and the three frat boys return to “subtly” watching the two of you.

“Do you at least know if he was good? You know, for a virgin.”

“Oh my fucking god, Sunwoo, shut up.”

“You shut up, Hak! It was just a question!”

“You two are fucking nasty,” Sangyeon’s lip curls into a sneer, trying to block out the memories of last night. “But I’m gonna need a shit ton of bleach if I wanna forget that bullshit.”

“Hot.”

“Sunwoo, shut UP!”

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headkiss · 2 months

Note

heyyy, how are you?? i love your work so much!!! i was wondering if you could write something about steve having a crush on r, but when they are together he gest shy and quiet and r misunderstands that and thinks he doesn't like her like everyone is telling her he is ???

im sorry if its confusing, english is not my first language,, anywayy feel free to change anything !!! ❤️

hi baby thank you so much!!! i’m so sorry this has been in my asks since september but i hope u enjoy all the same :,) i finally wrote something!!! yay!!! | 0.7k teeny tiny angst and fluff!!

You’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you. That’s what you tell Robin when you see her at the Family Video counter, alone for once. She bursts out laughing.

“I’m being serious!”

Before Robin responds, Steve walks out of the back room, grinning that grin you wish you didn’t love so much, his hair a little messy, like he didn’t have enough time to style it this morning the way he usually does.

He’s looking at Robin when he says: “what’s so funny?”

“I bet you’d love to know, dingus.” She nods at you and shrugs, “it’s girl stuff.”

It’s only then that he notices you’re there, his eyes flicking over your face quickly, his head ripping in a small nod. You might not have noticed it if you weren’t looking right at him already.

“Oh, right.” He smiles again, tight-lipped this time. “Hey.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hey,” he says again.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you, because this is what happens whenever you’re around. He goes quiet, awkward, where others have always found him outgoing and kind.

You suppose it only makes things worse when you want him to like you so bad. If only as a friend, even.

“Um, I was just grabbing…” You flounder before picking up a random movie by the front desk, “this.”

“Right,” he scratches the back of his neck as he says it.

Meanwhile Robin’s head is turning to look between the two of you like it’s a tennis match. You widen your eyes at her and she gets the signal, scanning your movie and letting you head out with it when she knows you’ll be returning it before even opening the case.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says to Steve as the door shuts behind you, the bell jingling with your departure.

“Robin-”

“No! You are, Steve. Listen, you know I love you, but she thinks you don’t like her. At all!”

Now, Steve knows that he acts like an absolute dork wherever you’re concerned, but he never wanted you to think that. Never. If anything, he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone before, and it terrifies him.

Any ounce of the confidence that’s left over from his ‘King Steve’ era seems to evaporate, and the words just don’t come the way they should. But fuck, he didn’t want to hurt you. He’d never want to hurt you.

“Shit,” he runs a hand through his hair, uncaring about how it might look for once.

“Yeah, shit.” Robin nudges her shoulder against his, “she’s still in her car, by the way. Just saying.”

Steve nods, muttering some kind of encouragement for himself under his breath. He pushes his way out the door, picking up his pace to a jog when he hears you start your car.

The knock on your window startles you, surprises you when you look over to find Steve standing out there, the sun a halo around his figure, his Family Video vest just a little crooked.

You shut your car off and roll your window down, squinting up at him, “Steve? Everything okay?”

“I do like you.”

“What?”

His chest is rising and falling quickly, his eyes wide and something like worry looming in them. “I do like you.”

“Steve, did Robin put you up to this? ‘Cause you don’t have to-”

“She didn’t. I promise she didn’t,” he leans down a little, his hands resting on your door. “She told me you thought I didn’t like you and I couldn’t let you leave still thinking that. I like you. A lot.”

You blink up at him, mouth opening and closing, trying to figure out what to say. For so long, you’d been convinced that he wasn’t a fan of yours, and here he is, sincerity written all over his face.

“You never talk to me, I thought-”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry.” Steve hangs his head for a second, inhaling once before looking at you again. “The truth is I, uh, have a crush on you. Probably more than a crush, and I didn’t know what to do with it so I acted like a fucking idiot.”

“You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, I do. Kind of a big one.”

You can’t fight the smile on your face at that. “I have a crush on you too, Steve.”

It’s the first time you make Steve Harrington blush, the first genuine smile of his that you earn. And it won’t be the last.

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mandarinmoons · 2 months

Text

That was kind of hot - Spencer Reid

Even though Spencer Reid was only a friend he was nothing short of a gentleman with you.

He would open doors, pull out the chair for you, you weren’t surprised if at one point he would sacrifice his jacket so that you could walk over a puddle.

Whenever you were alone with Penelope she always made sure to bring up the way Spencer behaved towards you.

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal, Pen.”

“Really? The man brings you coffee nearly every morning.”

“Didn’t you once gush about how he brought you a croissant?”

“Yes but that was just one time. Boy wonder is at your desk practically every morning with half a bakery in his hands.”

You just couldn’t understand what Penelope was getting at. To you Spencer just seemed to be a polite and respectful man who would do the same to anyone, meanwhile Penelope was sure that Spencer had different intentions. Whether or not that was true you couldn’t bring yourself to think that way. He was too good of a friend to you and even if you yourself did have any sort of feelings for him other than friendship, you couldn’t bring yourself to potentially ruin it.

Penelope’s words came to mind after one night though. You and Spencer were late at work after Hotch had asked you both to help sort out some case files that had gotten mixed up, and by some he meant about 20 folders. Luckily because of Spencer’s eidetic memory the task time was cut in half and you didn’t have to spend too much time gathering up paper cuts.

After about an hour everything was finished and you and Spencer put the files back in the proper storage.

“Oh thank god we’re done. My eyes were about to fall asleep.”

“As if you were the one who put in the most work.”

“Hey, watch your tone now Mr. Genius or next time I won’t help you out.”

“Like I’d need your help,” Spencer shot you a sly smile which made you push him playfully and he mimicked your actions. He pushed you slightly against your shoulder and you made contact with a bookshelf. The bookshelf moved a bit which caused a stack of books to fall off from the top shelf. Before the books hit the ground or had a chance to fall on top of you, Spencer was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into him.

You looked at the mess of literature at your feet with big eyes before looking up at Spencer and seeing him look back with equally concerned eyes.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“I-It’s okay um, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and Spencer caressed your side before pulling you along gently, “Come on, let’s go home. I’ll drive you.”

As you both walked to Spencer’s car and sat in the passenger's side, you glanced over at Spencer as he was focused on the road ahead of him. It was visible that his hold on the steering wheel was tense and he was still annoyed with himself for being so careless with you.

You put your hand on top of his and Spencer took it in his hand and ran his thumb over the back of your hand. You made eye contact for a second and you gave him a small smile signaling that you were alright. He returned the smile and gave your hand a small squeeze as a thank you for the reassurance. The ride continued on in silence, but the thoughts in your head made sure to keep your mind anything but quiet as one thought kept running through over and over again, “That was kind of hot.”

You can find my masterlist here!

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here x

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

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wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader (part three; finale)

read 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 (part one) and 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢 (part two) first!

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || he can't believe you're really here— now he has to just try not to blow it... figuratively speaking.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms/overstimulation [for reader], creampie), sex work (however dieter technically does not pay the reader for sex, just her flight to visit him c:), mentions of covid-19 pandemic, soft dieter being soft, emotions!! lots of 'em!, extremely sappy/fluffy ending (oops?)

He wasn’t sure who he was more worried would get recognized: you, or himself.

It was his idea to go out to dinner first, in fact he’d insisted on it. Going out to dinner in times like these was a bit iffy, but thankfully the place had outdoor dining and you’d both already tested negative— for more than just the virus…

It was a beautiful evening to eat outside, but it made him even more anxious that any passerby might know him either of you from your respective works; so far, no one had said anything though.

As he watched you take a sip of your sparkling water, he realized that he hadn’t had a crush on anyone in a long, long time. He hadn’t had sweating palms and a racing heart and a dry throat over someone since probably high school. By the time he was in his BFA program, he was so focused on his craft that he didn’t find himself worrying much about that sort of stuff— and if he wanted to get someone into bed, it didn’t seem like much to stress over.

This was different. This wasn’t an issue of getting you to sleep with him, although he certainly hoped you wouldn’t renege on the intentions you’d stated before— this was about getting you to like him, maybe even (as he would’ve put it back when he last had a crush) ‘like like’ him.

“Was your flight okay?” Dieter asked compulsively to fill the silence, proud of himself for thinking of something to say.

“Still good,” you nodded. “You asked me that when we first got here.”

“Right,” he sighed, “sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, setting your glass down on the white tablecloth. “I’m nervous, too. But in a good way.”

He smiled. “Yeah— I’m just really excited that you’re here. And it’s still kind of weirding me out that you’re… you know, real.”

“It’s definitely trippy,” you agreed. “When you see somebody over video chat a lot, they look sort of surreal in real life.”

“Are you… speaking from experience?” he wondered, lowering his voice a bit.

“Yeah— but not this kind of experience,” you clarified. “I’ve never met anyone from my work before— I told you that.”

“Right, yeah— I believe you,” he assured. “Have you ever flown overseas just to meet someone before?”

You laughed, looking down for a second. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve been, you know, wined and dined by somebody…”

“Well, I figured this wasn’t your first date,” Dieter scoffed.

“No, I mean— well, yeah,” you hummed, “but I, um… before I started camming, I was actually a sugar baby. So I’ve had my flights paid for before, is what I mean.”

He widened his eyes a little, but nodded— hoping to look more intrigued than overwhelmed. “Oh, wow, that’s— I don’t know a lot about that, honestly…”

“I was about to ask if you’d ever had a sugar baby before,” you smirked, “guess not.”

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, “not my— not for me. Not before, I mean— is that what you want?”

He got a little nervous that you would only want that— a relationship built on money. He was more than happy to drop some cash on you— he’d offered to pay for everything for you on this trip, it only seemed fair when you had to come all this way— but he got a sick feeling in his stomach imagining that that was all you wanted from him.

But then again, he just said he didn’t know a lot about it, maybe it wasn’t like that… he just felt like it was another performance, and that was the last thing he needed from anybody.

“O-oh, no— not with us,” you answered quickly, blinking a few times, and he sighed with relief. “I mean, it was nice— it wasn’t all old guys and crazy finance douchebags like people think,” you explained with a laugh, “but it was… it was hard work, in its own way. ‘Cause another misconception is that it’s sex in exchange for money and gifts— it’s not, not the way I did it at least. Those guys wanted the ‘girlfriend experience’... that’s the most profitable thing, whether it’s online or in-person.”

Dieter cleared his throat; can’t blame them, I guess…

“But, you know, they didn’t have the time for a genuine relationship, so it was like giving that emotion but never receiving it,” you continued, “and that was exhausting. Not to mention most of them had other girls involved… I’m not a jealous person, but you know, that’s obviously not what I want for myself in the end. So I switched to camming, worked out well with the pandemic and everything…”

“I’m sure,” Dieter agreed. “So, um… maybe this is kind of a forward question, for a first date, but… what do you want for yourself in the end?”

You seemed to get a little more shy, then. “Well…” you began softly. “Despite what you’ve seen me do, I’m a pretty traditional girl. I want a serious relationship, I want a lifelong commitment, I want… a family, probably.”

It was hard not to feel a lump in his throat when you said that, even if his emotions were conflicted at best.

“I mean— that doesn’t have to be you,” you rushed out, “I’m just saying… that’s the end goal. I have a lot of time for that, in my opinion.”

“No, right,” he agreed. “So then, I guess the obvious question— and probably a much easier one— is what’s your goal for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I already told you my goal for tonight.”

He swallowed thickly. He remembered your last message before getting on the plane pretty clearly: boarding now. hopefully i can get some sleep but i’m pretty wired ngl. just thinking about getting there and jumping your bones. i want you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk (or think) straight.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded at all if you just took me straight to the hotel,” you smirked, “but dinner is nice.”

“Yeah, I— I thought about it,” he admitted. “But… can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I wanted this to be more than just… that,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell you, but he hoped it wouldn’t bother you too much. Thankfully, the gentle smile creeping up your face seemed to indicate that it wasn’t particularly offensive.

“So, what do you want this to be?” you pressed.

“We can figure that out as we go,” he offered, “we should get to know each other better— for real. But that night that we stayed up until three just talking after what was supposed to be a one-hour call—”

He saw you smile even wider as you remembered it.

“I haven’t felt close to anyone like that in—” he began, but it all stopped as the waiter suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Your tortellini, ma’am,” he said as he set your plate down in front of you, and you offered an intrigued ‘ooh’ as you examined the dish, “and your langoustines alla busara,” he finished as he set Dieter’s food down.

“Thank you,” you offered the server with a polite nod, but Dieter could only muster a hum— he was a little miffed that the guy had managed to interrupt such an important moment.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” he asked, looking back and forth.

You looked over at him to check first, before shaking your head and replying, “No, I think we’re alright.”

“Excellent,” he beamed. “And— can I just say one thing?”

You both paused, not sure what to make of that. “Uh, sure,” Dieter decided, since the waiter seemed to be looking at him.

“I loved you in Hunger Strike,” he said excitedly; Dieter tensed up, wanting to look at you to gauge your reaction but suddenly too afraid of what he’d find.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled out, “that… means a lot.”

“I mean, it really moved me,” the waiter insisted, even though Dieter just wanted this interaction to end promptly. “You were so— I’m really not trying to intrude, but is there any way I can get your autograph?”

Then he looked at you, and he couldn’t quite read the expression on your face— amusement, maybe, with a hefty dose of discomfort as well. You looked away and took a long sip of your drink. “Uhh,” Dieter choked, looking back at his adoring fan, “you’ll get my autograph when you bring the check.”

Seeming to realize that he had gone too far, the young man straightened up and cleared his throat. “Right, uh— enjoy your meal.”

Scampering away, he left the both of you behind, along with all that tension he’d created. How come he got a escape a situation that was his own fault, and Dieter was stuck here wondering if you would be upset that he didn’t tell you who he really was— or if you’d reveal you were a crazy stalker-fan the whole time— or if knowing he was famous would change your interest in being with him (if you even had any)?

“I’m… sorry about that,” Dieter finally offered to you, and you started to smile.

“Don’t be,” you chuckled, “it was kinda funny. Do you usually react so… badly, to that kind of thing?”

He coughed a bit. “No, I— are you not…? Do you know—?”

“I saw the movie, Hector, I don’t live under a rock,” you admitted.

“Oh.” Not sure what to say next, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “What did you think of it?”

Shrugging, you answered with a simple ‘eh’. There was a pause before he began to crack up— and then you did, too.

“So, I’ve been worrying about all you finding out about my career for nothing?” he assumed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t recognize you right away,” you explained, “but I put it together before we planned all this.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered.

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed to, really,” you shrugged again. “It’s just your job. I was ready to talk about it if you brought it up— if you wanted to vent about work or something— but you never did, so I figured it must not be relevant.”

“Does it… change anything between us?” he asked nervously. “Do you feel weird about going out with a movie star?”

“Mm, I don’t know about star…” you smirked, making him laugh again— and that was the part that was the same as always. You still made him laugh, and now that the two of you were really talking again, it felt just like that night that you talked for hours— but even better.

When the plates were cleaned and the bill was paid, the two of you walked back to his hotel— he’d picked this place in part because he could see it from his window. But that brief walk back was one of his favorite parts of the night so far, only because he’d slipped his arm around you, and you leaned into him: in that moment, he felt more normal than he had in a long time— and yet, at the same time, special in a way he’d never felt before.

“I tried to clean up in here, but—”

“Isn’t there housekeeping for that?” you wondered.

“Yeah, but… I’ve had the ‘do not disturb’ sign up for the past week,” Dieter explained. “Didn’t want anyone to come in while we were talking…”

“Right,” you smiled, finishing your examination of the room and turning to face him again. The door shut on its own; you were looking at him with every light in the room reflected in your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, and wrapped his arms around you, and— why were his palms so clammy? “I don’t think I’ve been this nervous to kiss someone since… since maybe my first ever kiss,” he recalled, and you laughed softly.

“Yeah, me either,” you whispered back, and he ran his hand over the curve of your hip. “Who was your first kiss?”

“Uh, Sandy something… Brendan, I think— no, Brennan… Sandy Brennan. We sat next to each other in History class in seventh grade,” he recalled. “What about you?”

“I mean, unless you count a peck or two from my kindergarten boyfriend,” you chuckled, “my first real kiss wasn’t until high school— Gregory Cho. But I wasn’t that nervous… actually, I was sort of ready to get it over with.”

“There was someone I was really nervous to kiss in high school, too,” he recalled, “but that was… different.”

“Who was it?”

That name was much easier to recall. “Alex Brooks.”

“Was she super pretty? Or popular?” you pressed, wondering what had him so nervous, what made it different.

“Both,” Dieter replied quickly. “And… he was captain of the basketball team.”

You didn’t react strongly, but he still noticed it.

“Is that—?” he began to ask.

“He sounds like a real catch,” you smiled. “Was he a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” Dieter laughed, “for a high schooler. I guess things don’t feel as special now as they did back then— just some decent making-out in someone’s dad’s truck was the coolest thing, now it’s like— it’s all right there, you don’t have to…” he trailed off, but started a new sentence. “I mean, even you— I’ve seen every part of you, but I just really met you for the first time. And somehow I’m so afraid to kiss you.”

You were still smiling, but it changed, and you reached up to rest your hand on the back of his neck; it made him shiver in the best way. “If you’re afraid, then it must still be pretty special.”

You kissed him, after all that; he would’ve felt bad for making you wait, if he wasn’t so fully engrossed in kissing you back and pulling you closer and breathing in deeply against your skin.

For a long time, that was all it was— just one, amazing kiss. Just his lips on yours and the gentle dance of trying to go further without going to far; just your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders as he gripped your waist through the dress.

You started to pull him across the room by his shirt— towards the bed— and broke away to speak; he tried to chase your lips for more, but stopped when you bit your lip and rested a finger on his chin.

“You haven’t seen every part of me,” you corrected him— even though he barely fucking remembered saying that after a kiss like that. “I mean, my body, sure, but… not who I really am.”

“Then show me that,” he pleaded. “That’s what I want— you, everything.”

You smiled wide and kissed him again, the two of you toppling onto the bed together.

He’d been thinking about doing this since the moment he saw you: pulling up the bottom of your dress so he could pet your thighs, enamored with the smoothness of your skin. “Baby,” he purred when he caught sight of your panties— what little there was of them. The lace just gave him a glimpse of what was beneath, a tease of your perfect little cunt.

“God, I need you so bad,” you groaned as you pulled him down for another kiss; he’d been hard since you wrapped your arms around him, and he could swear he was already throbbing by the time he rocked his hips against yours. “Fuck— feels even bigger than it looked…”

“Maybe your computer screen wasn’t big enough,” he joked, making you laugh lightly before another moan came out when he rocked down on you again. “What do you want, beautiful?”

“You… you know what I want…” you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Humor me,” he encouraged, moving in to kiss your neck— and loving the way you squirmed under him.

“Want— want you to fuck me,” you whimpered, “want you to make me— fuck— yours…”

He groaned deeply as he rutted his hips into yours harder, finally taunting you to the point that you had to reach down and start opening his pants. “So eager,” he mocked playfully, as if he wasn’t going to ravage you the second you were done getting his cock out.

In fact, he almost tore your dress as he pulled it down to expose your chest, barely finding the time to appreciate the view of your tits before latching his mouth onto them. “Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he smiled around the pert nipple in his mouth; these had seemed sensitive from the way you toyed with them as you touched yourself, but it was heaven on earth to confirm his suspicion himself.

“Want me to make you mine?” he prompted again, voice muffled by your delicate skin in his mouth, and you whimpered as you nodded.

“Yes— please—” you begged.

“Not sure I can do that,” he warned, and you gave him a confused look. “You’re already mine, you told me yourself.”

You giggled, arching your back slightly as the tip of his tongue drew circles on you. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mhm," he confirmed. "Hard to forget."

"Well, m'still yours," you offered, "but I need you right now, I'll do— fuck, anything, just—"

"You don't need to do anything," he assured, looking up at you as he moved his mouth from your breast down a little lower, "just lay back and I'm gonna take care of you."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Second I saw you I wanted to kiss you all over," he sighed.

"Well, I've got a couple ideas of where you can start," you smirked.

And yes, he would love to start there, but he needed to do his best not to rush this. So, smiling up at you first, he began his journey. His lips and tongue explored your body on his way down: a kiss here, a lick there, a playful bite when he felt extra naughty. "You're so fucking beautiful," he mumbled against you.

"Yeah? You too," you sighed.

He didn't think of himself like that— handsome, maybe, certainly aware of his better angles, but beautiful felt strange. But he liked it, especially when you said it. Especially when you said it while he was slotting his face between your legs.

It was even prettier up close, and the smell was fucking intoxicating: tangy and musky and sweet, heady, earthy, human. And he knew you'd taste even better.

So he dove right in. Maybe he should've started with your clit, that would've been the obvious choice, but his instincts led him to just slide his tongue right into your hole. If nothing else, it certainly seemed to take you off guard, and you gasped as you grabbed onto his hair with both hands.

"Baby, fuck, that's— oh god, you can't imagine how many times I thought of this," you admitted, breathing heavy already. He smiled against you, then gave you one big lick from the furthest down his tongue could reach all the way to the very top— all while holding fierce eye contact with you. "Fu-uuuuck," you choked, dropping your head back just as your eyes rolled up. "That's so… just do that again, please…"

He did it a few more times, noticing the way you seemed to get more impatient with each one, until your hips were chasing after his tongue. "Stay still, baby, don't you trust me to do this right?" he purred, holding tighter on your hips.

"Yeah, I just— been so long," you whimpered.

He just did his best to find what made you scream the loudest and keep doing that— you were so sensitive, he just had to press his tongue down flat on your clit and move it in circles and you’d start shaking and sobbing and begging. He moaned into you every time you tugged on his hair, having to rock his hips against the bed to appease his attention-deprived cock.

"You're… so amazing," you panted, "I— fuck! Oh god, I can't remember the last time someone—"

You never finished your thought, because he started fucking you with his tongue and you were too busy moaning his name, but he couldn't believe what a waste it was that nobody was eating this pussy on a regular basis.

"Gonna— oh fuck, yes, gonna come," you warned, "I… I'm gonna come so fucking hard…"

You started shaking, and he started fighting to keep you as still as he could so his work wouldn't be interrupted. For a second he wondered if you were already coming or not— but then you made this noise, and your cunt clamped down on his tongue, and you cried out his name; it was perfect, it was the most beautiful moment he could ever imagine.

When it became too much, you went from tugging his hair to pushing him away with it, and he grinned up at you with a breathy laugh. “Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, and he saw the tear streaks on your temples and cheeks. He traced one with his thumb before kissing you again— deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He hummed when your hands reached down to work on getting his pants off— eager and shaky, he certainly related to that. As soon as your hand wrapped around his cock, he moaned, just from that. He was almost embarrassed about it, until you bit his lip in playful encouragement. "Does that feel good?" you purred.

"Yeah— your hands are better than mine," he laughed breathlessly.

"How about this?" you raised an eyebrow, swiping your thumb over his slit, and he groaned as he rocked into your touch.

"God, baby…" he groaned. As good as it felt, he found the strength to grab you by both your wrists and pin them down by your head. You grinned, struggling just a bit, and moaned as he slid his cock against your soaking pussy.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, “feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

But he wasn’t teasing you— he was psyching himself up.

Believe it or not, he actually felt pretty nervous about this part. Not for a lack of experience— for the entirely opposite reason. Dieter had been with a lot of people, and for the most part, it was all… the same. It all blended together— he only remembered those people from when he was a kid because he was a kid, and his romantic encounters were so few and far between. He could remember details of his various partners from the last few years— Crystal who had a clit piercing, Marvin who begged to be choked, Cameron who seemed to enjoy giving him a blowjob even more than he enjoyed receiving it— but this, the actual sex, it was generally pretty interchangeable.

So, he was worried that after all that build-up, after all the yearning and fantasizing and talking, that this would be the end of it being special— and you would just turn into a hook-up with a slightly more interesting backstory than the rest.

As valid as that fear was, it was far from enough to stop him now, not when you were looking up at him and tightening your fists as he kept you pinned and silently begging for him with your eyes.

He had to let go of one of your hands to guide himself inside, but he interlaced the other with your fingers while he did it— and then, with one strong push, he was fully within you.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, “you feel… different.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little. “Uh, different than what?”

Than everyone else. “I— I don’t know,” he breathed, “I’m not making sense.”

“Not really,” you agreed with a laugh.

“Hard to think straight right now,” he defended.

It wasn’t just that you felt different— it was that this felt different: being with someone he really cared about, that he wanted to impress, that he wanted to see after this was over.

Someone that he never wanted to let go of.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you whimpered, “fuck, don’t stop— feels so good—”

One of the benefits of making you come on his tongue first was that he knew it wouldn't be that bad if he didn't last too long now— though that wasn't why he did it. In fact, this was rarely his issue, if anything sometimes he struggled to finish for unclear reasons.

But even if he could get away with finishing quickly, he wanted to make this last as long as he could. He never wanted this to end, actually.

As he found his pace— not too speedy yet, but with a bit of his eagerness showing— he kissed you again, deeply and hungrily. He wondered if he'd ever done this before: kissing during sex. He felt like he probably had, and yet he couldn't remember it— maybe that said more than anything.

This, on the other hand, was very memorable. He slid his arms under you when your back arched, he held you tight and close and drank in every one of your moans through that kiss.

For how many times he’d pictured fucking you, he never really imagined it like this… and he thought he’d imagined it every way before. But he realized that he’d mostly imagined it a bit kinker— you riding him, or him fucking you while you were bent over the table in his room, or 69’ing or something. This was passionate, and sorta slow; this was his hips grinding on yours with every thrust so he could keep rubbing your sore clit; this was making love, he realized— if it wasn’t, he couldn’t imagine what was.

“I— fuck, baby— think I’m gonna come again,” you warned him with the most beautiful whiny sob.

“Fuck, already?” he smiled, and you nodded feverishly.

“Just… don’t stop, please, just like that— fuuuuck!” you choked, and he gasped every time your walls clenched down on him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster and not letting up on the pressure from his pubic bone on your clit, even when you actually screamed under him. “You’re so amazing, oh god, I—”

He heard it before he said it: I think I love you. He stopped himself before blurting it out— maybe he’d tell you after, but he wasn’t so far gone to forget that this wasn’t the right time. You’d think he didn’t really mean it, that it was just the delirium talking from how incredible you felt, but he knew it was so much more than that.

He shut himself up by kissing your neck— not too hard, but plenty to leave a mark, and make you squirm in the process. Your hands wrapped around his back and your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the pain of it, he couldn’t feel anything but the sticky, resplendent heat of your body.

“So much fucking better than the goddamn dildos,” you said suddenly, and he laughed against your skin.

“Do you miss all those people watching you come?” he wondered.

“No, fuck no,” you panted, “there’s nobody else but you.”

He couldn’t help but fuck you faster when you said that— you should’ve known better than to stroke his ego that way.

“Fuck!” you sobbed. “Hector, baby, you’re so— oh god, I don’t know if I can take it—”

“Shh, you can,” he promised, “you can do anything, you can come for me again—”

“Oh fuck, I— I might,” you admitted shakily, “but then I’ll— I’ll fucking pass out or something.”

“No, you’ll be okay,” he promised, cooing at you softly. “You’ll be so good for me, I know you will— just come for me one more time, baby, tell me what you need to come again.”

“I… just a little time is all I need,” you answered, voice breaking. “I swear I’ve never— I’m not usually so— fuck, it’s just you—”

“I know,” he assured, loving the way you babbled praises but worried it would distract you from coming again; and if you didn’t soon, there wouldn’t be time before he lost it. He was already barely able to keep his composure just from how beautiful you looked like this, let alone how you felt. “I know, just let it happen, I know it’s right there for me— just come for me, beautiful—”

You dragged him down into a sloppy kiss, and he felt it— those incredible pulses inside you, waves of slick coating him until he felt sticky all the way down his thighs; your sobs were more precious than anything he’d ever heard.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he praised, fucking you even faster now as your head fell back limply. “I can’t h-hold back anymore, I need to—”

“I know,” you said to him this time, “it’s okay, please— want you to…”

“You still— oh my god…” he choked, losing his train of thought for a moment. “You still want me to come inside you? Wanna be full?”

“Yes,” you whined, “yes, baby, please— wanna be so full of your come, I want everything—”

"Fuck, okay," he agreed, gasping as he tried to keep up his pace despite the growing pressure inside. "I'm really fucking close…”

“I’m yours,” you told him again— and then he went from ‘really fucking close’ to ‘already fucking there’. He came inside you with a long, whimpered groan; his head dropped onto your shoulder while each pump filled you, trying to catch his breath but feeling like he’d never find it again.

Admitting he loved you during sex wasn’t a good idea, but saying it immediately after wasn’t that much of an improvement. Now, though, he was too exhausted to keep his mouth shut. “I think I love you,” he blurted out suddenly.

For one incredibly long second, you didn’t react at all. You looked up at him, and he hesitated to even look back because he didn’t want to see anything less than ecstasy on your face. “Oh,” you said, “cool.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he anticipated, good or bad, but it wasn’t that.

“Let me know when you know,” you suggested.

“No! No— I know,” he insisted, reaching up to hold your face, “I know. I love you. I think I did even before you came here, but… it just seemed so crazy. We don’t know each other as well as we should for that, right? But I feel it— I feel something that I just can’t explain—”

“Hey, slow down,” you laughed, “I feel it too.”

The way you smiled at him, resting your hand on his chest— was he glowing? He felt like he was actually glowing. “Good,” he decided.

“Let’s get to know each other better, then,” you announced. “Start from the beginning, the whole thing: parents, siblings, school, favorite movies, worst dates, hot dogs or hamburgers—”

“No, you start,” he pouted, “you’re more interesting.”

“Me? Please, I’m just your average camgirl titty streamer, don’t worry about it,” you scoffed.

“And I’m just some lame old Oscar winner,” he shrugged.

But both of you talked— all night, actually. You never fell asleep, he was never even that tired— you kept him so full of energy he didn’t even notice how long it had been until the sun started to come up. And then you kept talking at breakfast. And then you fucked again, and talked some more after; he knew it had to end, eventually, but he didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about you going home and letting something so perfect end.

He told you just as much on the last night— assuming you didn’t switch your flight home to a later day again. You’d just been laying in his arms after another bout of passionately desperate fucking, both of you half-asleep but not wanting the separation of even just unconsciousness, and he blurted it out.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded under his breath. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” you returned softly.

“I don’t want this to end.”

You were quiet for a while, turning over on your side to face him, tracing your fingers over his chest gently. “It doesn’t have to end, just because I leave,” you mumbled. “I know it’s crazy, but we can be together, even if we’re not… together. I mean, I’m certainly not gonna be with anybody else—”

“Me either,” he said quickly, before he could change his own mind with the doubts— the voice in his head that said he could never settle down because he’s too fucked up. “I only want you.”

“It’ll suck, being far away from each other— but you’ll be back Stateside eventually, right?” you assumed.

“God, I hope so,” he sighed, “if the world doesn’t end.”

“If it does,” you whispered, moving in closer, “I hope it’s tonight. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here.”

It was a romantic thought, but as he kissed you, he realized he’d never wanted the world to end less than he did right now. He never longed for an apocalypse or anything, even on nights that his doubts and anxieties made him yearn for oblivion just for himself, but just now he could’ve cried thinking about everything falling apart tonight. Whether it be by fiery explosion or a quiet, instant disappearance, he couldn’t let armageddon happen now— now that he had you. For the first time, he saw himself having a future, in a way he never had before. Existing as a ‘celebrity’ meant being on the edge of irrelevance at any moment, knowing this could all go away overnight and you’d just be ‘that guy who was in that thing that one time’.

But this time, he stood on a precipice of something wonderful, of something natural, and it was the most beautifully terrifying unknown. It was tomorrow. Tomorrow, you’d get on the plane; tomorrow, you’d leave, because the world wasn’t going to end tonight. But his life was going to start tonight, and he didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x y/n #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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mountttmase · 7 months

Text

Not Yours

Note - happy Tuesday 🩷 thank you to the anon for this request. It’s not something I’d normally write but I quite enjoyed this one so I hope you all do too. Feedback would be very much appreciated 😉

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 4.8k

Warnings - smut

Don’t answer the door to anyone.

That’s what your mother had always told you growing up when on the rare occasions she would leave you home alone. The sound of the doorbell still sending shivers down your spine as in your mind it meant danger; however now you were living alone sometimes you had to answer the door.

Tonight was one of those times.

It had just gone half ten. You were in your pjs all ready to go get tucked up into bed when the unmistakable sound of the doorbell rang through your flat. Stopping you in your tracks almost instantly.

Who the hell could that be?

You had an idea, not wanting to open the door for them at all so you approached the door as quietly as you could in order to look through the peephole. Relief washing over you instantly as the person you wanted to see least was not on the other side of the door. In fact it was probably the last person you ever expected to see so you carefully stepped back and slowly opened the door.

‘Mason?’

‘H-hi y/n’

‘Is everything okay?’ You asked, picking up on demeanour instantly. Mason had always shy and reserved around you in the short time you’d known him but this was something different and you watched him gulp down a nervous lump before nodding.

‘Um yeah, well no actually I uh- sorry I just-‘

‘Would you like to come in?’ You interrupted, sensing he needed a little push and his eyes softened ever so slightly as he gave you a lopsided smile.

‘Please’ he nodded, so you moved to the side before leading him into the living room so he could take a seat on your sofa.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No thank you’ he replied, carefully sitting down and keeping his clasped hands in his lap. He was more nervous than usual and you were perplexed as to why he was here.

‘So, to what do I owe this pleasure’ you asked and you really wanted to know the answer. You and Mason weren’t exactly friends but you always felt like you could be. He was always sweet to you and once he had a drink down him, the pair of you had had some great conversations. He was kind and polite and always asked you questions about yourself but as soon as he was sober he was back to his usual shy self. You couldn’t tell if Mason had had a drink tonight but the way he was acting made you think he hadn’t.

‘It’s uh- it’s about Cam’

Cam.

Cam was your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend as of yesterday but also one of Mason's very good friends. In fact Mason was just about the only one of his friends you could stand sometimes and you wondered why he bothered to keep them around.

‘Look if he’s sent you round to try and butter me up for something it won’t work. He ended things and I’m not gonna let him treat me like his plaything that he can pick up and put down whenever he wants. I’m done’

‘Wait what? You broke up? When?’ He asked, his face full of confusion and you could tell he really had no idea what was going on.

‘Yesterday’ you told him solemnly. ‘He came and got me from work. I thought he was taking me out to dinner or something but he told me he was done and just left me in the middle of town on my own I was humiliated’

‘Shit. I’m so sorry y/n’ he breathed, hands unclasping as if he was about to reach out and comfort you but in the end he decided against it.

‘It’s fine, I think it’s for the best anyway’ you shrugged, ‘I actually feel pretty alright, like he’s a bit of a twat thinking about it’

‘You can say that again’ he mumbled and you smiled before rolling your eyes. Hoping you could change the subject and find out why he was really here.

‘What can I do for you then?’

‘Oh um well it seems a little redundant now and I don’t wanna upset you any more than you are’ he explained but if it was about Cam you wanted to know.

‘No it’s okay. You came all this way it must be important’

‘Y/n I don’t think-‘

‘Please, Mason. I want to know’ you argued and after a short sharp exhale of air his eyes dropped to the floor so he could speak without looking at you.

‘Look y/n there’s no easy way to say this but… he’s been cheating on you’ he told you softly. ‘I found out about an hour ago. I think he knew I’d say something to you if I found out before but we were out and he was bragging about it a bit and he’s so drunk he showed me a video of him and this other girl, you know... Apparently it’s from a few months ago’ he told you sadly. ‘I just thought you deserved to know’

‘Oh’ you breathed, your whole body tingling as soon as the words settled into your skin. You can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind that he would do that to you, but you never had any evidence that he had so you forgot about it and moved on. To now hear this coming from Mason was making your head spin and you weren't quite sure what to do with yourself.

Cam knew you were insecure at the best of times and even more so around other women but he always made out like you had nothing to worry about. Maybe his words had had a little less conviction lately but to know he’d lied to you like he had made you feel sick to your stomach and you had no idea what to say next.

‘Are you okay?’ Mason whispered, but you could only nod. Biting down on your bottom lip to stop your emotions from spilling out but he could obviously tell something wasn’t right. Carefully wrapping and arm around your shoulders in order to comfort you in some way and even though you could tell he was still a bit shy he let you melt into him as you turned and tucked your head into his neck. Needing comfort from where you could get it right now. ‘I’m so sorry’

‘It’s not your fault, you didn’t do it’ you laughed, hot tears falling from your eyes no matter how much you tried to sniff them away. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying, we’re over anyway so it’s not like it matters or I can do anything’

‘You’re allowed to be upset. You only broke up yesterday’ he told you softly and you allowed yourself to be sad for a little bit.

You didn’t talk, he just held you to him as he rubbed slow comforting circles into your skin with his thumbs as you played with the hem of his shirt. Wondering how you’d got here and why Mason was in your flat in the first place. He was Cam's friend and as much as you appreciated his honesty needed some answers.

‘Why are you here Mase?’

‘I told you. You deserve to know’

‘But why? You’re Cams friend. Don’t your priorities lie with him?’

‘Not at all. Not when it comes to this’ he said softly and you felt yourself nuzzling into him further as he held you to him. As much as Cam had proved to you people can be shit, Mason was everything he wasn’t and had slightly restored your faith in men a little bit by the way he was comforting you.

You both fell quiet again, just sat there listening to each other's breathing as he held you together. Your thoughts running away from you as you thought over your time with Cam and your sadness began to turn to anger quickly. He’d lured you in, just like they always do, and once he was bored he went behind your back before tossing you aside.

You liked Cam, you wanted to make it work and maybe you put up with more than you should have in hopes you could turn things around. Only realising in the last few months of your relationship that you could probably do better than what he was offering to you. But you held on to the idea of the boy you once knew, in hopes that maybe you could change him.

Leopards rarely do change their spots though.

You felt low. Lower than low in fact. Not wanting to give Cam the power of making you feel like shit but you weren’t sure how to feel any differently right now. Tears stinging the backs of your eyes again as it all hit you and you couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of your mouth.

‘Do you ever wish you could be someone else?’ You whispered ‘like just for a day? I just wanna be enough for someone, you know? For myself even at this point’

‘Hey, stop that’ he whispered. Moving slightly so he could look into your glassy eyes and the look on his face made your heart swell in your chest. ‘I promise you, you’re more than enough. I never got why you were with him in the first place like you’re so far out his league’ he told you, a small chuckle falling from your lips as he wiped your eyes gently. ‘I’m serious, I know he’s my mate but he’s an arsehole. You deserve so much better’

‘I’m just really angry’ you laughed bitterly. ‘I wanna get him back so badly. Like make him feel like shit too. Not just for cheating on me but for all of it. Make him hurt like I hurt’

Mason was silent but you could tell he wanted to say something and when you looked up at him he was smiling down at you shyly.

‘What’s going on in that little brain of yours Mase?’

‘Firstly, it’s not little’ he winked and even though you knew he was talking about his brain you still blushed at his words. ‘And secondly, I may have an idea’

‘Oh yeah?’ You laughed, turning to face him and you didn’t miss the subtle bite of his lip.

‘Call me insane but If I was you I’d fight fire with a little more fire’

‘I don’t understand’

‘Do to him he’s done to you. I get you’re over but he didn’t tell anyone that tonight and was making out you were still his. Show him you’re not’

‘You mean… get with someone else?’

‘Precisely. And let’s say evidence or something gets sent to him to prove it then that’s just a bonus’ he laughed and you could’t help but like the idea. Sure it was insane but you were past the point of acting rationally.

‘Okay, let’s say I want to do that. I’m never gonna find someone quick enough for it to hurt him in time’

‘Well I know one person who would be happy to do it right now’ he winked. Surely he didn’t mean himself but after you raised your brows at him he gave you a subtle nod.

‘Are you serious?’ You laughed and even though he was smiling himself, you knew he was. ‘Why Mase? What’s in this for you? I know he’s not your favourite person in the world but damn’

‘I have my reasons’ he chuckled, eyes falling into his lap. ‘Two years ago, before you were on the scene, I was talking to this girl for a few weeks and I really fucking liked her. Her name was Juliet' he confirmed and the name struck a chord with you instantly.

‘Cam’s ex was called Juliet’

‘Exactly. Took her from right under my nose and has never let me forget it’ he told you and you nodded lightly.

‘So it’s like payback for you?’

‘I guess so, yeah. But that’s not all this is to me though, you know that right?’ He reassured you, threading his fingers through yours gently. ‘I like you. A lot. I know you’re not supposed to fancy your mates girl but fuck… everytime I saw you I wished I’d got there first somehow’ he confessed with a laugh and suddenly his nervous behaviour all clicked into place. He wasn’t shy, he just liked you and the thought made you blush. ‘That’s why I’ve not ever been able to speak to you properly before, not when I’m sober at least. You scare the shit out of me and I knew I’d fall for you. I’m not like him and I’d never do what he did so I kept away from you but I’ve always liked you. I’ve just had enough of sitting by and watching him treat you like crap when you deserve so much more’

‘So this is a bit of a win win for you huh?’ You teased, watching his face turn red as he nodded shyly.

‘We don’t have to, maybe it’s going a bit far but it’s just an idea. I get you won’t have the same feelings towards me but I’m not all bad’ he chuckled but you just found his self deprecating side endearing.

‘I’m up for giving it go if you are’ you whispered, hand reaching over to touch his arm and you watched the goosebumps rise up almost instantly on his skin. ‘You know if we do this though, that’s it for you and him’

‘I know’ he winked. ‘I’m kinda counting on it’ he laughed and one look at his lips as he smiled made you want to kiss him instantly.

‘Come on then lover boy’ you laughed, swinging your legs over his lap so you could get close to him. ‘How about we just kiss first, see where that takes us?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive’ you winked, resting you hands on his chest but he made no move to try and get closer to you. ‘Are you still sure?’

‘Yeah, sorry. I’ve just thought about doing this a million times before but I never thought it would happen’ he told you softly and his words made you melt. ‘God I feel so awkward’ he laughed his hands resting on your waist as you cupped his jaw and you knew you’d have to make the first move as he was starting to loose it a bit so without thinking about it too much you lent forward and placed your lips on his.

You thought it might feel a bit wrong, kissing Mason like this but he made you feel more in this one exchange than Cam had in months. A shiver rolling down you spine as he moved his mouth against yours like it was something you did everyday. It felt natural and you didn’t want part from him anytime soon so you held him to you even tighter until he began to smile.

‘You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that’ he whispered against your lips, making you giggle before pulling your face back to his so you could kiss him again. Deeper this time as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth and you moaned at the feel of it.

He was a good kisser. He knew exactly when to speed up or slow down, he was gentle with you but still strong and you could feel your insides churning as his hands began to explore your body.

You weren’t sure if it was the thrill of what you were doing or just Mason himself but you hadn’t felt this turned on in a long time so when he began to slide his hands lower to grip your bum you let a low moan fall from your lips before moving to straddle his waist. He was looking up at you like he was in awe and the low groan that spilled from his lips as you peeled your shirt from your body gave you more of a confidence boost than anything else ever had.

‘You still wanna do this?’ He breathed, tearing his eyes away from your bare chest to look into your eyes and make sure you were 100% happy. ‘You can back out whenever, yeah? Just say stop and I will’

‘I wanna do it’ you confirmed, his soft eyes lighting up before he was getting serious again.

‘Only if you’re sure. Even if you just wanna get a picture or whatever and stop we can’ he told you but before you could reply your hands were reaching for his own shirt. Legs almost giving way at the sight of his body laid out underneath you. You’d never seen anything like it and couldn’t help but reach out to trail your fingertips over him. Pride filling you as you watched his muscles dance under his skin but the little smattering of hair that trailed into his jeans had your mouth watering.

‘I think I wanna suck your dick’ you blurted out. Your mouth running away with you before you’d even thought about what you were saying but it’s like you were in this lust filled trance and all you could think about was being in between Masons thighs.

‘Jesus Christ, y/n’ he groaned, helping you off of him so you could settle in between his legs and as soon as your hands reached for his fly he helped rid himself of them as you took his boxers off with them. Letting him sit there bare infront of you and you could tell he was a little unsure of himself. He had no reason to be though, you’d never been so turned on by just looking at someone before so you quickly dropped your shorts so he didn’t feel as self conscious before climbing back into his lap.

‘I don’t want a picture, I want you to film me’

‘Are you sure?’ He laughed, taking your phone from your hand before opening up the camera and sliding along to the video setting.

‘It doesn't have to be anything long, just a few seconds’ you confirmed and once you were settled back between his thighs he met out a shuddery breath. ‘Can I start? Or do you need a minute?’

‘Go ahead’ he chuckled but you could tell he was a little apprehensive so you went slowly. Kissing over his thighs as you took him in your hand to hopefully get him hard but there was no need. He was ready for you so you quickly licked your lips and took him into your mouth.

The breath he let out at the feel of you made your thighs clench together as you slowly got to work, hands gripping his thighs as you bobbed up and down on him until you felt his hand in your hair. You looked up at him through your lashes and his dark eyes were staring back at yours before he finally hit the record button, taking him in as far as you could whilst working the rest with you hand as your mouth moved.

You’d never been this into it before, hoping that would come across on camera as you made Mason feel good before you heard the video end and he placed your phone to the side of him.

‘I’ve got the video’ he told you through a moan, hand in your hair to grab your attention and when he was able to pull you off you both were looking at each other with wide eyes.

‘Can we carry on?’ You panted, not having nearly enough of him yet even though you’d gotten what you needed from him technically but you felt like you were just getting started.

‘You want to?’ He asked, a bewildered look on his face but you nodded shyly. Itching to feel him in some way so when he lent forward and his hands made contact with your hips you stood up so you could straddle him again. Your core now pressed up against his length and the feel of it made whimper.

‘Please Mase’ you whispered, biting your lip but he didn’t move. In the end you simply reached down and took him in your hand, lining him up with yourself to see if he would react and the subtle push of his hips into you let you know he wanted this just as much. So you gave him what you both wanted, sinking down onto him and the feeling was like nothing you’d felt before.

‘God, you feel insane’ he groaned, holding your waist and you lent to pick up your phone so you could watch the video quickly. You could just about tell it was you but there was no way you could tell it was Mason and watching him disappear into your mouth just made you want to grind down on him.

Without thinking too much about it you sent it to Cam, withholding your number so he couldn’t tell it was from you before turning your attention back to Mason who was looking back up at you with a cheeky smirk.

‘You ready?’ He whispered but you responded with your hips. Rolling them forward and watching his eyes disappear in the back of his head somewhere before you began to bounce on him. His hands guiding you just how he pleased but the sound of your phone continuously pinging made you pick it up in hopes Cam had seen your little surprise.

‘Mase he sounds pissed. And he’s calling me’

‘So answer it’

‘I- fuck, I don’t know’

‘He wants to talk so lets talk. Put it on loud speaker so I can hear’ he mumbled so you did as he asked, hitting the answer button without a second thought before putting it on loud speaker.

‘H-hello?’

‘Y/n, what the hell is going on?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What’s wrong with you? Why did you send me that video? I know it’s you so don’t deny it’

‘I’m not’ you told him, trying to hold your moans in but Mason was hitting you in all the right places and making it difficult for you to hold back.

‘When was the video taken?’

‘About three minutes ago’ you confirmed, followed by a whimper as Mason bounced you up and down even harder. ‘Hurts doesn’t it’

‘You’re fucking insane’

‘I’m fucking something, but he’s not insane’ you laughed, feeling Mason rest his forehead on your shoulder as he tried to hold in the giggles himself.

‘Wait, what? Are you with them right now?’

‘Unlike you I had the decency to wait until we were over before fucking someone else but yeah he’s here’

‘Tell me who it is’ he bellowed down the phone, your eyes on Mason's dark ones but you could see the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

‘You really wanna know, huh?’ You teased, a shuddery breath falling from your lips before you went for it. ‘Fuck Mase, that’s it right there’ you told him, feeling his hands wander up to your chest so he could palm them gently.

‘Mase? I swear to god, y/n-‘

‘What, Cam? You can’t do shit. I’m not yours anymore, remember. But you were mine when you decided to do the same with someone else. This is just payback’

‘You’re lying. This has to be a joke’

‘Fuck, y/n’ you suddenly heard Mason moan as you slightly adjusted your hips. ‘Did he ever make you feel this good baby?’ He asked with a wink.

‘Nuh uh, you’re so big Masey’

‘That’s it’s, who's making you feel this good huh?’

‘You are, Mase. F-fuck I’m so close’

‘You hear that mate? Or do you need another video to be sure?’ Mason laughed before attaching his lips to your neck.

‘Fuck you’ Cam suddenly spat and with that he hung up the call.

You threw your phone to the side, focus entirely on Mason and the way he was making you feel so when he suddenly stopped your hips you were confused.

‘Lay down for me?’ He asked, one hand reaching up to settle on your lower back as he adjusted both of your positions and you let him move you so you were laid down. Him towering over you now as his eyes raked over you hungrily. ‘You’re perfect, you know that right?’ He told you seriously and you felt a shiver roll down your spine.

‘Mase, I-‘

‘Cam, and any other prick who made you feel like you weren’t enough. I want you to forget them, yeah? Just focus on me’ he told you, but you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. His eyes had captivated you and you were both trapped in each other's stare as he lent his forehead gently on yours before pushing himself back in.

You let him control the tempo this time. One hand by your head to hold himself up as the other travelled right to where you needed him to be. Rubbing slow circles on your clit as he slowly pounded into you.

This felt different to any sex you’d ever had. He was focused on you, making sure you felt good first before he let himself go and before long his name was falling from your lips as you clenched tightly around him. Your high coursing it’s way through your veins as he made you feel like no one else ever had.

You let him slump down on top of you, his weight feeling comforting as he slowly traced shapes on to your ribs and even though his breath was ticking your neck you swore you would've laid there for a lifetime. Just soaking in each other’s presence and comfort and you got your breath back.

‘That video, he won’t use it against you will he?’ Mason asked quietly. Almost as if he didn’t want to disturb your peace but you just smiled and you brushed your hand through his hair.

‘I shouldn’t think so. He knows I have a fair few pictures of him that he wouldn’t want anyone to see so he’ll keep it to himself’

‘Pictures of what?’ He asked with a laugh and you had to bite back a smile as you pictured them in your head.

‘Let’s say they involve fluffy handcuffs and rabbit ears. Not worn by me though’

‘Ah okay’ he chuckled, face nestling down in your neck again and you couldn’t get over how cute he was or how much comfort his touch bought you and you couldn’t help yourself from placing a few soft kisses to his hairline. ‘When you’re ready, do you think maybe I could take you out?’ He asked quietly, that shy tone lace throughout his voice again and your heart squeezed at the way he was still nervous around you.

‘How does next Tuesday sound?’

‘I’m serious’ he laughed. ‘I’m happy to wait for you, you know that right? Cause yeah this was fun and whatever but i do actually care about you. I know this is probably all new and a bit weird for you so I’m happy to wait or we can hang out a bit more and see what happens?’ He offered and you felt warm at his kind and considerate he was.

‘I’d like that’

‘Really?’ He asked, his voice sounding shocked before he leant up to look at you.

‘Yeah, I mean I’m not blind Mason. I’ve always thought you were handsome and a nice person and I get why you were a little shy with me now. If anything you’re probably way too good for me-‘

‘Stop that’ he huffed, ticking your side as he looked at you with a pout. ‘I don’t like it when you say stuff like that about yourself’

‘Sorry’ you whispered, but his face softened instantly.

‘Just give me some time, yeah? I promise I’ll show you that you’re more than enough, Not just for me but for anyone. I’ve never done anything like this before, you know? Like swooped right but I just don’t wanna miss this opportunity when I know I could make you so happy’

His words made your eyes fill with tears. Never had anyone wanted to fight for you like this so you gently pulled him back down to you so you could place a gentle kiss to his lips. Feeling him smile against you as he deepened it but he was pulling back soon after. Not wanting to push things too far.

‘I might need a little time too. But I think we can make this work’ you told him softly and the reassuring smile he gave you melted your insides. ‘Will you stay tonight?’

‘Are you sure?’ He asked, dropping his forehead on yours but you knew you couldn’t be without him now so you nodded lightly. Nose brushing up against his gently before he planted a quick heavy kiss on your lips.

‘Please. I don’t want you to go’

‘Okay’ he smiled. ‘I’m all yours’

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hope you’d enjoyed it and I’d love to know what you thought 😘

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

Text

Steve doesn’t talk about his nightmares. He assumes they all get them, it’s clearly just something you have to accept after going through the shit that they’ve gone through. He deals with it, like he deals with everything.

One night he wakes from a nightmare and there’s someone in his room, and he’s frozen and he’s terrified and he can’t reach his bat. He feels like his chest is about to explode until a second later when the figure moves in front of the window, hands held up in front of him and eyes wide with concern.

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice scraping out of his body. “What – what are you doing here?”

Eddie cocks his head. “Many, many vodka shots, couldn’t drive home, crashed on your couch, etc. etc. You don’t remember?”

Steve does, now, the sound of Eddie’s voice bringing reality back, and he nods. “Yeah, uh, so many vodka shots. But…?” he trails off, gesturing to his bedroom.

“I heard you.” Eddie shrugs, then climbs onto the bed like it’s no big deal, shoving aside the messy blankets and sitting cross-legged next to Steve. For a moment he’s backlit by the light outside, his curls a frizzy halo. “Nightmares suck. You okay?”

Steve sucks in a long breath and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face with a shaking hand. “Uh, sure.” Eddie doesn’t look convinced. He heard him. “What, um, what did I say?”

Because sometimes the dreams are about things that actually happened, like him and his friends being attacked by monsters, and sometimes they’re about things that didn’t actually happen but almost did, like Eddie and Max dying. Sometimes they’re about brand-new horrors that he hasn’t even experienced yet. His mind is impressive that way.

“You just screamed a lot.” Eddie holds his gaze, and Steve feels sick to his stomach. Probably explains why he wakes up with his throat hurting so often. Benefits of an empty house.

Eddie shifts, all limbs, and lays down on his side, head propped on one hand. Steve’s plaid comforter is pushed down by his feet, and Eddie tucks his bare toes underneath it. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Steve fights the urge to bury his face in his pillow. “I can’t.”

Eddie accepts this and rolls to his back, hands clasped over his chest briefly until they start waving around as he speaks. “I get nightmares all the time. Always have. Used to be they were about regular little kid stuff, then all the normal high school shit – showing up somewhere without your clothes on, whatever. Wayne was always real nice about it, didn’t make me feel embarrassed, just kind of sat with me or brought me water, you know.” Eddie glances over to Steve’s bedside table where there’s already a glass of water, and he meets Steve’s eyes.

“No, I’m good,” Steve says, with a little snort. “Do you, um, have different nightmares now?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Eddie says, turning back on his side to fully face Steve. “I keep thinking they’ll be great material for song lyrics, or campaigns, once they stop scaring the living daylights out of me. Worst ones are where I’m getting bitten over and over by those god damned demobats, man. Fucking sharp-ass teeth, ripping me apart. Hurts like hell, can’t believe how much it hurts. And that thing where you wake up and still feel it, right, like the pain is real for a minute even though it’s just a dream? Like a pain-echo? God, I hate that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and he takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “It’s like that for me, too. Really scary.” He stretches, feeling some of the tension leave his body, and relaxes down into his pillow. He no longer feels like he’s on a rollercoaster without a safety bar. He’s not alone. “Thanks.”

Eddie studies him, then reaches down and tugs on the sheet, eventually getting part of it untangled, and pulls it up over Steve’s legs.

Steve knows what’s going to happen next, but he suddenly can’t let it. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches over and touches his hand to where Eddie’s lies between them on the bed. “Would you stay?”

His heart is beating hard in his chest for a reason having nothing at all to do with nightmares, when Eddie twines his fingers together with Steve’s and nods, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah.”

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Stranger Things ficlet #Steve x Eddie

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fvllingflower · 27 days

Text

Something Different

pairing: nonidol!joshua afab!reader

genre: smut

warning: making out, sex toys, toy play, praising, boob play, lingerie, some tears, penetration, biting, hickeys unprotected sex (stay safe!), aftercare

song recommendation: sugar rush by bibi

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and your boyfriend, Joshua have been together for about 2 years. In those 2 years, the sex was always rough but you wished it could be more fun but you didn't want to say anything cause you're scared you'd hurt his feelings.

One day, you and Joshua were at his apartment, cuddling and watching some stupid reality show. He had his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to his side. The way you looked so comfortable and relaxed made him feel amazing. He couldn’t think of a time when he was happier than right now. He looked over and smiled at you, kissing your cheek.

"I love you" You mumbled.

"Mm? I love you too, love" He pulled you even closer to him as he spoke. You felt his body heat slowly start to warm you up. He smiled at you as he ran his hand through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. He kissed you on the cheek again.

“can I be so bold as to ask you something?” He asked suddenly.

"Yeah sure" You smiled at him sweetly. He smiled and looked at you as he thought of how to word his words.

“I’m just gonna come out and say it, but I was wondering if you would be comfortable with us trying some new stuff in the bedroom?” He looked shy about it.

"I'd like that" You grabbed his hand as you answered.

"Why kind of stuff exactly?" You looked up at him.

"Well... please don't think less of me for this... but I have this box in my closet with some.. toys and I was thinking we could use them.." His face turned red as he spoke.

"Mm" You nodded with a smile.

"Can you show me what's inside this box?" You seemed so calm about this and in truth you were actually excited to try something out with him.

"Um yeah" He got out of bed and grabbed the box from his closet and brought it to the bed as he sat down next to you. He opened the box and honestly you were surprised with everything you saw.

"Have you used these before?" You kept your eyes on the box.

"N- no I bought them some months ago but I didn't know how to bring it up..." He seemed scared on how you're going to react. You pulled handcuffs out of the box.

"Didn't take you as the guy to tie me up" I teased.

"I think you'd look pretty handcuffed" You added. He just blushed heavily. You pulled more toys out. A vibrator, more types of restraints and some other things you weren't sure of.

"You went all out" You looked at him.

"You don't think I'm weird for this?" He looked nervous.

"I don't think you're a weirdo for this. This is normal, baby. Kinda want to try it out tonight" You smiled.

"Really?" He smiled.

"Mhm" You nodded.

"Oh! I also got something for you to wear" Joshua got up and went back into the closet and came back and handed you a pink lingerie set.

"You want me to wear this?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah... I think you'd look really sexy" He smiled softly.

"Okay" You signed happily and took the lingerie and went into the bathroom and changed into the set. You walked out of the bathroom and saw him, in just his underwear, sitting on the bed and when he saw you his eyes widened and a smile came across his face.

"I knew you'd look sexy" He smiled. You walked over to him, and he put his hands on your hips. You kissed him softly and then pulled away. He pulled you closer to him until you decided to sit in his lap. You two started making out. Your lips were fighting his lips and tongues fighting while your hands flew into his hair. As you two continued to make out, you were grinding your hips against his pelvis. He started kissing down your jawline, down your neck, and down your chest, making sure to leave love bites behind. He pulled your bralette down, freeing your tits from the material. He started sucking on your tits like a hungry baby. He left kisses and bites across your tits.

"Oh-" You gasped when he started biting your nipples.

Joshua flipped you onto the bed so that he could on top of you and kiss down your stomach and leave bites all across your body. He got up from the bed and grabbed something from the sexual box. He got back on top of you and lifted your leg onto his shoulder. You suddenly heard vibrations.

"You know what that sound is, love?" He smirked, keeping the object away from your view.

"Mmm sounds like one of the toys" You smiled.

"Correct.. my love is so smart" He kissed your calf and then suddenly you felt the vibrations against your cunt. You threw your head back against the bed as you moaned loudly.

"Fuck! Josh" You couldn't help but moan loudly.

He rubbed the vibrator against your clothed cunt. He suddenly pulled it away and dropped your leg and got up. He pulled your panties off, leaving you in the lacy bra. He got back in his position on the bed and put your leg back on his shoulder. He pushed the vibrator into your hole. He was fucking the vibrator in and out of you.

"Oh god! Joshua!" You moaned louder.

"Such a good girl" He smiled as he continued fucking you with the vibrator. He pulled the vibrator out and laid it against you clit.

"Oooh fuck!" You moaned loudly.

The pleasure felt so good, that tears were slowly streaming down your face. It didn't take much more of the vibrator for you to cum every where. Joshua turned the vibrator off and placed his fingers against your cunt and collected your release on his fingers and licked it up. He let you rest for a moment before doing more. He caressed your cheek and wiped the excess tears.

"Did that feel good darling?" He asked sweetly.

"Mhm" You nodded weakly.

"Do you prefer the vibrator over me?" He kissed your shoulder.

"No... always you" You mumbled. Joshua smiled.

"Good girl" He kissed your lips. His hands rubbed your sides.

"Do you want more fun?" He asked.

"Please Joshie" You begged. He kissed your neck. He took his underwear, letting his thick, red, angry cock spring out.

"You want me?" He smirked.

"Ooh" You moaned softly as you felt him enter you. You feel yourself stretch around his cock. No amount of preparation can prepare you for his thick cock. Your hands gripped his pecks, nails digging into the muscles, making Joshua groan.

"Yes.. please" You whined. He pushed your legs open. He rubbed his cock against your folds making you whine from his teasing.

"Does that feel good, darling?" He smirked.

"So— so good" You whined. Suddenly he pushed his cock into your hole.

"Handsy today huh?" He teased. You just nodded. He kissed your chest again and smiled.

"Are you ready?" He asked softly and you just nodded again. He starts thrusting slowly, trying to find a rhythm.

"Faster baby" You begged.

He nodded and started thrusting faster and more rough. One thing about Joshua in these 2 years when it comes to sex is that he's always gonna love missionary style, he just loves looking at your face as he fucks your brains out and he loves watching your tits bounce as thrusts fast. He continues fucking you until the only thing coming out your mouth is his name. You kept clenching your walls around him every time he hit your sweet spot and he knew you were getting close.

"Mm- gonna- cum- gonna cum" You spoke between moans.

"I know darling.. cum for me" Joshua spoke softly as he continued fucking rough and with little mercy. You hit your orgasm and made a mess all on him and the bed. He kept thrusting, riding you through your high. He could see your head thrown back and eyes rolled from the pleasure. Just looking at you in that state was enough to make him cum inside you, painting your walls white and sticky. He filled you to the brim and then pulled out. He fell on the bed next to you and you two tried catching your breath.

Once you both calmed down, Joshua went to hug your body. Just peaceful silence between you two. He laid his head on your chest and listened to your heart beat go back to its regular pace. You carefully played with his messy hair.

"You did so good, love"

"So good for me" Joshua continously praised you.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" He looked up at you.

"No you weren't. You know I like it when you're rough with me.. it feels good" You smiled tiredly.

"I love you" He kissed you softly.

"I love you too" You smiled again.

"Let me clean you up" He got up and started a bath. When the bath was ready, he picked you up and sat you in the tub.

"I'll be right back, I need to change the bed sheets" He kissed you quickly and walked off to change the sheets like he did. When he came back, he saw you fighting to stay awake. He got in the tub and let you rest your back on his chest.

"Is my love sleepy?" He spoke softly and kissed your cheek.

"Mhm" You nodded.

"Let me take care of you and then you can go to sleep, okay?" He kissed the side of your neck.

Joshua carefully washed your body and in between washes, he'd be kissing you, making sure you knew he loves you. Once the bath was over, he picked you up and dried you off and helped put you in clean clothes. He laid you on the bed and then he took care of himself. He got back in the bed with you and kissed your forehead.

"Do you want me to massage your legs?" He spoke softly. You shook your head no.

"Mm. Do you want to go to sleep?" He asked with a gentle smile. You nodded your head.

"Okay, we can do that love" He helped put you under the covers, and he cuddled your body, holding you tight.

"Mm I love you" You mumbled.

"I love you too darling" He kissed your shoulder and closed his eyes as he smiled.

"Now get some rest, pretty" He whispered.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #joshua scenarios #joshua hong smut #joshua smut

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violetsaffron5 · 8 months

Text

NSFW Gojo Week (5)

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

Gojo maybe, kinda, sorta got hit with a sex curse technique on purpose and he can't stop thinking about one thing.

cw: sex pollen/curse, breeding, cum play, vaginal sex, spit kink, creampie, this one is just kinda silly goofy

words: 2.4k

Masterlist • Day 4 • Day 6

“Hey, baby…”

“Hey, Satoru… You okay? What’s up?”

You can hear hesitancy in his voice through the other line of the phone, which isn’t normal, to say the least.

“Um. I kinda fucked up at work today.”

Okay. That’s not unusual.

“Oh. Yaga making you work overtime or something?”

“No, not exactly. Can you just… come home as soon as possible?” You’re able to make out some rustling in the background but are unable to tell exactly what it is.

“Home?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll… be there soon, I guess.”

In all the years that you’ve been together, that you’ve just known him, it’s not uncommon for him to do something to piss Yaga off and be forced to pick up extra missions as punishment. But for him to be sent home?

It had to have been bad.

You’re racking your brain but unable to come up with something bad enough that he would do that this would happen. Did they fire him? Could they fire him?

If that’s the case, then there’s a good chance Satoru isn’t taking the news well. He loves his students and has a great passion for teaching them, so you’re really not sure what kind of mess you’re about to walk into.

When you step into your shared apartment everything is clean like usual. Looking around the kitchen and living room, nothing is amiss. The only thing you can hear is music coming from down the hall.

As you make your way toward the bedroom, you’re able to make out the distinct sounds of Satoru panting and grunting, and you’re really unsure of what’s going on at this point.

“Satoru? What’s going on in her-”

You blink several times, not expecting to walk in on this.

He’s standing in front of the full-length mirror next to the dresser, wearing nothing but his socks, muscles rippling, with his palm gripped around his hard cock watching as he strokes himself.

His eyes catch yours and he gives you a lopsided grin, slicking back his sweat-covered bangs, “Oh. Hey.”

You don’t mean to, you really don’t, but you can’t help but laugh at what you’ve just walked in on, “Were you just… in the mirror?”

Finally, you take a moment to look around the bedroom only to notice it’s a wreck. His clothes are strewn all over, a couple of energy drinks sit on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, and there are bottles - bottles - of lube on the dresser next to where he’s standing.

He watches you with a serious expression as he strides over to you, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You smile at his words, trying your absolute best to not continue laughing, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, cupping your face as he places several soft, sensual kisses on your lips. You can feel the way he’s rocking his hips into you, trying to get more stimulation.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” You ask as he moves to nibble your ear. Satoru has always smelled good, but right now, despite the sheen of sweat covering his body, he smells like vanilla and warmth and it’s making it incredibly hard to resist him.

“I just…” His eyes trail down to your stomach, hands on your waist, thumbs pressing small circles on your stomach, “I just really wanna fuckin’ breed you.”

Your eyes grow wide at his words. This isn’t something you ever talked about seriously. The few times the topic has been brought up, he’s shut it down almost instantly expressing that he doesn’t want to have kids until he reaches his goal of resetting Jujutsu society.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah… I gotta… You’re gonna look so fucking good all big and round and full of me.”

It’s probably not a smart move, but you’ll entertain his exceptionally rampant, lustful thoughts for now. It’s not like you’ve ever really been able to resist his advances, always melting to his touch as soon as his lips press to yours.

When you grab the base of his cock, Satoru whimpers as you drag your hand slowly to the tip a few times while he slips his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.

And then he moans with furrowed brows. And you know that moan, along with the familiar wet, stickiness that’s been released in the palm of your hand.

“Satoru… did you just…” You look down and sure enough, the evidence of his release is in your fist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His eyes bore into yours when he brings your hand to his lips and licks his cum off, eyes slowly turning more black than blue with lust.

Your mouth is agape as you watch him, utter confusion written on your face, especially as he places your hand back on his cock.

“Why are you still-”

Hard.

Sure, Satoru can go like a fucking racehorse. There have been plenty of times when the two of you have stayed up all night and day rolling between the sheets. But even this is unusual for him.

“Mm. You should strip for me,” He decides, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with hopeful eyes, stroking his cock in anticipation.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s having some sort of incredibly horny manic episode.

Folding your arms over your chest, you watch him seriously, skeptically, “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

He sighs, trilling his lips while rolling his eyes. He knows you’re not going to give in until he tells you.

“I-” He waves his hand in front of his face, “Got hit with this curse technique.”

“Ok. I’m guessing it was a sex technique, right?” He nods, “How did this happen?”

It’s not uncommon for sex curses to appear since so many people have so many varied feelings about the physical act. What’s not common is Satoru being affected due to his Infinity.

“I was curious what it would be like, and now I just really need you to fuck it out of me. Please.”

He’s never been one to beg but your stoic demeanor diminishes as soon as he pouts because quite honestly, he looks so fucking good when he strokes his cock.

And you know he feels even better.

His cock is longer and harder than you’ve ever seen it. His dick has always been so pretty but right now the tip is red and angry, leaking precum that he’s spreading with his thumb down the length of his cock.

Biting your lip, you slowly unbutton your uniform top, letting it fall to the floor. Satoru sucks in a deep breath as he looks at your chest, humming when he sees the lacy bra you wore today. After undoing your belt, you remove your bra before gently squeezing your breasts as you shimmy your hips, letting your skirt fall to your ankles.

You leave your heels on, because you know he likes that. He has a goofy grin on his face with half-lidded eyes as you step towards him before turning around and over, giving him a view of your cunt as you remove your panties before discarding them with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

Placing your hand on his chest, you go to push him back on the bed, but he’s not going to give you control, not tonight. You already knew that.

Grabbing your wrist and pinning it over your head, he pushes you into the mattress. When he grabs the base of your neck you gasp, giving him the opportunity to grin, showing off his perfect, pearly white teeth before letting a trail of saliva fall into your mouth.

You fucking love it when he’s rough like this.

He usually is, but you know he holds back, trying not to hurt you. But when he gets so aroused that he can’t help himself, can barely think straight? You have the time of your life.

There’s a neediness already blossoming in the pit of your stomach, breaths falling faster as he slowly ghosts his fingers over your skin, feeling every dip and curve you have to offer him.

He’s drinking you in like water he hasn’t had in decades, that you’re a decadent meal that he’s about to devour.

The thought sends a jolt straight to your core.

He parts your legs, nestling himself between them easily as he crashes his lips to yours in a series of searing hot kisses, tugging on your lower lip greedily when he pulls away.

You roll your hips against him, seeking friction when he presses his hips to your core, moaning wantonly into his mouth.

“Always so wet for me baby,” He praises, adjusting himself so his cock sits at your entrance before easily slipping between your folds. “Gonna - oh god - gonna make you a mommy. You want that baby? Yeah, I know you do. Been asking me about it forever.”

He’s babbling, already losing himself in you and it feels like he’s legitimately trying to split you in half with how he doesn’t give you any time to adjust before he’s slamming his hips into you at an unbelievable pace.

Skin slapping and lewd squelching fill the room as he sits back, watching where you’re connected. His cheeks are pink, across the bridge of his nose and to the tips of his ears. Placing a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge from his cock, he’s mesmerized watching as it disappears inside you.

“Sit up.” He commands, so you do on your elbows as you watch him spit where you’re connected before staring at you intently, waiting for you to do the same.

He moans when you do, watching the way all your fluids mix together as he continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon.

Satoru hits that spot inside you repeatedly, the one that has your toes curling and gasping as you grab onto his shoulder as your legs tense and your face contorts in pleasure.

A wave of ecstasy rolls through you as you scream out his name over and over again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby, you’re gonna make me-” He groans kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder, “I’m gonna-”

His body tenses as warmth fills your insides, eyes wide as he hisses like he’s in pain before scrambling off the bed. You watch in horror as he moves out of you and off the bed faster than you’ve ever seen before.

“What- Are you okay?”

“Cramp. Got a cramp in my leg.”

You laugh, throwing your head back and resting while he takes care of his little issue.

“Stop laughing.” His voice is serious, causing you to sit back up on your elbows and look at him. “Stop laughing while I’m-” He gestures to his length.

You didn’t think it was possible to bruise his ego, especially when it comes to sex because he’s just so damn good at it. But being affected by the curse, he’s got to have an influx of so many emotions running through him that he’s trying incredibly hard to not let you see.

Grabbing your ankle, Satoru flips you easily so you’re on all fours, facing the mirror next to the dresser, across from the bed. It’s disorienting when he does this, using his technique like that to get you into the position he wants. He knows it, you’ve told him. He still does it.

“Gonna knock you up. Fuck!” He groans as he enters you again from behind, hand gripping your hair at the scalp forcing you to watch in the mirror as he pistons his hips into you. “Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine. They already do, baby right? They know you’re mine?”

“Yes, yesyesyes,” is all you’re able to breathe out as you watch him in the mirror.

He looks so fucking good with parted lips, chest red and heaving as he pounds into you, the baby blues of his eyes are no longer visible, replaced by his black lust-filled pupils.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck-” He groans out, focusing on your cunt and the way it grips onto him, “Squeeze me like that again baby - oh yeah - just like that. Gonna- fuck - you gonna make me a daddy, baby?”

It’s all so much, so euphoric that there’s no way you’re able to hold back your impending orgasm; unable to help the way your thighs shake when the tip of his length kisses your cervix so deliciously you know it’ll ache in the morning.

The moment Satoru drapes his body over yours, fingers drawing small tight circles on your clit is the moment the flames erupt, warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins as your walls spasm and constrict around his cock.

Satoru lets out a melodious moan as he cums, shoving his cock into you as far as possible, hips flush against yours until you can feel him in your throat, spilling into you with everything he has.

There’s so much dripping out from between where you’re connected that his efforts to keep it all inside are fruitless. The view is absolutely obscene, cum mixed together and dripping onto the bed sheets below, the sounds are vulgar but it doesn’t stop him from fucking it deep and deeper inside, rolling his neck and head back through the hypersensitivity of his tip.

Eventually, he rolls you over onto your back, peppering your face and lips with little kisses, but there’s an unexpected wetness on his cheeks that causes you to knit your brows together and look at him.

“Are you… crying?”

“It just-” He takes a deep breath, licking a strip from your chest to jaw, “Felt so good.”

You’re sure he hates it, but you chuckle at the ridiculousness of all of this. This time though, he chooses to ignore it as he sucks several small lilac bruises on your neck, shoulder, and down to your tits.

“How has the curse not lifted yet?” You sigh, wiping your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand while Satoru positions his face between your legs, kissing your thighs several times, admiring the view.

“Oh, it did.” Your head snaps to his immediately curious about what he plans on doing, “I’ve just always wanted to know what we taste like together. Might as well do it now.”

You hiss as he runs his tongue between your hypersensitive folds, legs twitching around his head when he swirls his tongue on your clit.

“Good, huh?” He grins while slipping his tongue between your lips, letting you taste your mixed arousal on your tongue. He’s groaning, loving this as excess dribbles down your chin before he licks it off.

He gives a satisfied sigh, moving your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ears before cradling you in his arms as you both drift off to sleep.

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