#Yeah he needs him to babysit for a moment

[darkwolf989]

Outside The Office Part Thirty One

TW: Valentino, Drugging, Sex.

Enjoy <3

The bright lights of Valentino’s newest club flashed as we made our way across the floor. The music vibrated in my chest as I slid into the booth. 

“Water for me, Val. Please.” I said quietly as the server appeared. I laid my head on his shoulder. I truly, truly didn’t feel like being out. Staying home by myself wasn’t an option. And according to my vitals, neither was the coffee I so desperately craved. So here I sat, the sober one amongst the chaos.

To his credit,  Valentino gave me the choice- call Lucifer and he could come hang out with me- and by that he meant babysit, or I could go with him and the others. It was opening night of his newest club after all, and as the owner he needed to be there.

“I’m trying something- mi amore. A new business model, so to speak.” He said as he got himself ready for the night. “I need Vox and Vel by my side. And normally I would leave you behind, but giving your…difficult day, I simply cannot justify leaving you alone. And if you’d rather come with us, there is something we need to discuss.” He turned to me and caressed my cheek. “If I kiss you- harshly, roughly, and you see red trickle down from the corner of my mouth, that’s the signal for you to get close to me and stay there. Understood?”

He waited for me to nod and his tone shifted to something much more serious. He cupped my chin and locked eyes with me.

“Princessa. I will degrade you- verbally. I will speak as though you don’t matter to me. Know it’s a lie. Know that I’m doing it because if they think you’re anything more than my favorite toy, you become even more of a target than you already are. With this knowledge, are you sure you want to come with us?”

I nodded. 

“Good.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “This setup is different, mi amore. If you’re not in the booth with one of us, you’re at one of our sides. Got it?”

Valentino snapped his fingers, barked an order and instantly, a server appeared with a glass of iced water. I accepted with a thank you and took a sip as I surveyed the scene. There would be no soul contracting tonight, Valentino had been clear on that. His concentration needed to be here, at the club. He had a job he needed to do. 

I sank back against the seat and watched as he stood up and walked through the room. Valentino had a presence- people stepped aside as he sashayed across the dance floor. Bartenders move to be sure they took his order first and foremost. He whispered, touched, spoke and caressed without a single falter. I watched as he wrapped his arm around a demon and led her to the back. I felt that familiar twinge of envy. 

“It’s not love, you know.” Velvette’s voice broke through my thoughts. “It’s lust.” 

“Does he…contract souls already in hell?” I asked as I watched him vanish behind closed doors. “I mean, I’ve seen him contact souls on their way here. But…”

“Yes. Val makes his money by contacting beautiful demons to work with him in exchange for half or whole of their soul along with the souls who haven’t quite passed yet. It’s impossible to know with those souls if they’ll end up the look he requires so, sometimes he has to contact directly in hell.” Velvette answered as she sipped her drink. “Don’t overthink it.” 

It was hard not to, wondering what exactly went on behind those closed doors. I stirred my water and resigned myself to waiting. 

“Do you want to dance?” Velvette asked after a few moments of silence,“we can go find Vox!”

I shook my head. “No but you can. I won’t go anywhere, promise.” 

She rolled her eyes and lifted her drink. “Yeah because you’ve historically done so well left unattended.” 

I winced at the sarcasm in her voice, but chose to ignore her as I continued to study the club scene. Something was different from his other clubs. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. 

“Care to partake?” A demon with bunny ears approached and offered me a sectioned out tray. Tiny gold jars. Tightly wrapped cigars. Longer red boxes. 

Confusion washed over me. “What is it?”

“No. Now shoo. And don’t offer it to her again,” Velvette snapped. “Or Valentino will hear about it.”

The waitress bowed away. I looked at Velvette and she shook her head. 

“Val’s newest idea. Drugs directly available at the primary source. Bit of an up charge, but patrons won’t mind paying when they’re a few drinks in and it’s convenient. Brilliant business plan really.” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. 

Ah. So that’s why Valentino was insistent he be here. Great business venture, but definitely had the potential to be a tricky one. Drugs, alcohol, mixed with his clientele had the potential to be a violent mix at best.

“Ah Princessa. Doing okay?” Valentino asked as he slid next to me. He leaned over and turned my face to his and kissed me roughly. Dominantly. His eyes met mine and instantly I knew. 

Red saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as soon as he pulled away, giving the impression he had drugged me. I leaned myself into him and twisted my fingers into his jacket. I watched Velvette shift her attention to where Vox was, and he quietly rejoined the table. 

“Aww, too much, Princessa?” He asked in a teasing tone. “So fucked up on Daddy’s drugs, it’s almost cute,” he purred loudly, his palm resting on the back of my head. 

I felt his fingers run roughly through my hair and he shoved my face against his chest as footsteps approached. Curled against his protective grasp, I felt that familiar pang of warmth in my tummy. 

God, he was sexy when he was in control. 

Voices I didn’t recognize. Valentino’s grip tightened its hold but his voice stayed calm. Easy going. Prices were discussed. Names of women I didn’t know. Or drugs. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“She available?” I heard one of them say. “Could cut a sweet deal for you in exchange for Lucifer’s little bimbo.” 

I felt his grip tighten on me, but his tone stayed calm. Steady. 

“She isn’t part of the deal, amicico,” came his cool reply. “I don’t share my most favorite toy.” 

They laughed at his words as the tone of conversation shifted. Eventually I heard the footsteps recede and Valentino’s hands relax. 

“Are you ready to go home, mi amore?” He purred. “Let Daddy take care of you? That’s it now, keep your head tucked in, babydoll. You’ll need a nap before we end tonight.”  

I felt him lift me and pause. The volume of his voice dropped and his tone shifted. 

“Vox? Take her out. Now. Vel, I need you with me.” 

Wait what?

I lifted my head up as I was shoved into Vox’s arms. He set me down and took my hand in his as he  pushed his way down the side, cutting a path in a hallway I didn’t realize existed. I looked back, and caught a glimpse of Valentino across the dance floor, wings out, eyes blazing red, matching Velvette’s. The music stopped and tense silence filled the air. Something stirred inside me-  a mix of terror and the desire to run to Valentino. To wrap myself up in his powerful grasp and let him pin me against the wall. Vox tugged my wrist and I looked to him. His own eyes blazed the same fiery crimson. I stopped.

“Come on, move. Now.” He growled. Sensing my discomfort, his voice softened. “It’s still me, kid. I won’t hurt you.” 

The sound of gunshots and I picked up the pace. An open door. I felt the cool air hit my face as the outside air surrounded me. 

“What was that?” I asked once we were seated in the limo. “Is Val okay?”

“Val will be fine. The men who tried to double cross him? Meh. Not so much.” He kept his gaze down as he punched a few things in on his phone. “They’ll join us in a moment. Vel and Val I mean, not the guys.” 

True to his word, the limo door opened moments later. Velvette stepped in, seeming unruffled, followed by Valentino. 

“Good acting, Princessa.” Valentino said with a kiss. “I was convinced I accidentally slipped you a little something extra.” 

I didn’t respond but let myself lean into him.  He put a comforting arm around my shoulder and I half listened as he filled Vox in on the details of the incident. 

As I snuggled into bed next to him that night, he ran a hand down my back. 

“Are you okay Princessa? You’ve been quiet since we left. Talk to me, mi amore.” 

“Do you three, do you feed off each other? Your power? Your energy?” I asked finally. “The Valentino in his demonic form earlier was still soft and cuddly, and fluffy and your wings made me warm and safe and sleepy and then I saw all three of you in the club and your eyes- Val, your eyes matched that same blazing red and I, I just…” 

He listened quietly as I struggled to find the words that expressed the intimidation I felt. 

“I know none of you would hurt me, but you…you three really are dangerous.” I finished. Unsure of what else to say, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into him. “It’s kind of hot.” 

To my surprise, he laughed. 

“Hot, Princessa? Is that what this is about?” He asked as he titled my chin up. 

I saw his teeth sharpen as his grin widened. I pressed my lips back against him and buried my fingers in the fluff that appeared around his neck. He pushed me on my back and his wings sprang fourth. 

“I would never hurt you in this form, Princess as. But fuck you? Would be a first for both of us. And I don’t have very many of those left.”

I let out a moan as he kissed down my neck. His tongue toyed with my nipples and I felt myself buck against him. He laughed and pulled me up, and forced me to sit on his lap as he continued to toy with my body.

“Fuck, Val!” I breathed as I pressed my hips against him. My fingers buried themselves in his fluff as he pushed a single finger into me, his teeth sinking ever so gently into my collarbone. Euphoria flooded my body and I felt myself grow wetter with each stroke.

“Fuck, Val!” I moaned. It was the most amazing feeling that flooded my body- almost as if I was floating. I felt every muscle relax. An innate desire washed over me. I needed him in me, fuck I wanted him to put his babies inside me. 

“Val, I want cock- your cock!” I moaned.

A grin widened across his face. “Oh? Is that so, princessa?”I felt his fingers roughly grab my hair and he laid back as he pushed my face down towards his lip. “You want my cock so bad? Open that pretty mouth of your and get busy, princessa. 

I obeyed and he slid his cock down my throat. He groaned as he listened to me choke on his length. His hands kept tension, tugging my hair as he demanded for me to go faster, yanking my head up and down his cock.  

“Swallow every god damn drop,” he commanded. 

The implied or else turned me on more than the actual threat. I felt him explode and hastily, I got to work on kissing, sucking and cleaning up  every inch of him, being sure to leave not a single drop behind. 

As soon as he was sufficiently pleased, his fingers twisted into my hair and he yanked my head up, rolling me on my back as he pinned me to the bed. 

“That’s my good girl,” he purred, “ are you ready for your reward?” 

He pushed himself deep into me and I arched my back as I dug my nails into his skin. His wings fluttered above us, creating a blanket of shadows. I pushed my hips against him as that innate desire flooded deeper into me. I needed him, I needed his come in my belly. 

“Valentino,” I moaned. It didn’t quite sound right but I didn’t care. “Please, Val- I need you to come in me! Fill me, please Valentino!” 

He stopped mid thrust. I groaned in frustration and clawed at his back as felt him pull out immediately. 

“Princessa?” He asked as he grabbed my chin and forced me to look in his eyes. Concern washed over his features. “Oh, fuck.”

“Why did you stop?!” I begged as I wrapped my arms around him and ground my hips against him. “Val, come on!”

“Oh, no no no. Shit. Fuck.” He cursed as he pushed me down, his eyes carefully studying my body. 

I felt myself giggle. “See something you like?”

I felt his fingers trace where he had bitten my collarbone. I looked down and saw red liquid pour down. Blood maybe? It didn’t hurt so I didn’t care. The burning in my belly needed him, demanded him, growing stronger with each passing second. I ground my hips against him roughly, hoping he would fulfill my desperate desire. 

“More Val, I want you. Inside me, now!” I demanded as I bounced on his lap. “Come on, Val!” 

“No, Princessa.” He said sharply. He set me on the bed and I watched as he slammed the bathroom door. When he came out a few moments later, he wore his black sweatpants. 

I reached for him and he shook his head. “I’m sorry princess. I should have known better.” He kissed the top of my head and pushed me down. I felt his fingers side into me and I bucked my hips against the feeling, desperate for any satiating touch. 

“Val, I want cock- your cock!” I groaned as I ground against his fingers.

“Not tonight, you’re too fucked up.” He said calmly. “And not until I get some answers. Breathe for me, Princessa.” 

I groaned and pushed myself against him. “Deeper, Val!! I need you.” 

His thumb pushed against my clit and I came instantly around his fingers. 

“More!” I begged. “Please, Valentino, I need you.Your cock in me, please Valentino!”

Instead of answering my plead, I felt his fingers slide out of me. I groaned in frustration, but felt something slide deep into me, replacing the feeling of his fingers with a pleasant vibration. He settled me on his lap and his wings surrounded me. 

“You’re not going to settle for awhile, princessa. But please, try.” He said softly as I squirmed against his chest. “I’ll take the toy out if you feel asleep.” 

“Noo, I want your cock, Val” I please. Words began to spill out as I desperately attempted to convince him to fuck me. “I want you, in me. I want your come and I want to be pregnant with your babies, Val.” I reached down to touch the vibrator inside me, but his hand caught mine. “I want to be big and round and pregnant! Please, Val!”

“No. Not yet, Princessa. Someday, maybe.” He replied as he shifted me. “Not now. Not like this.” 

I groaned. “but Val!!”

“Whine all you want with that sweet little mouth, but it won’t change a damn thing.”

Like hell it wouldn’t. Under his wings, I reached up and grabbed at the fluffy around his neck. He grabbed my wrist and sat up. I could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Princessa this is not you. Stop. I will leave you in bed alone tonight if you can’t get yourself under control. Come on, please?” 

“Aww, Daddy, is that a command?”

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re too out of it for this.” He pushed himself up and set me down next to him and  pushed me down on the bed. 

“Val!” I whined.

“No. I love you too much, Princessa.”

I watched his form slowly go back to his normal self. He dug through the drawer and came up with two long silk ties. I felt my heart beat faster. 

“Yes, tie me down and fuck me!” I moaned as he lifted my wrist up and tied me against the bed frame. I whined again as another hot coil of desire shot through my belly. “I want you Val!” 

“I know. And I think I know why. Which is why I’m putting you in restraints. I’m not leaving you and I can’t have you completely and totally feral.” He replied as he tied the knot tighter. 

I felt myself explode again around the toy at the feeling of his touch on my skin. I moaned as that feeling grew stronger and I pushed against the silk. 

“Valentino!” I moaned as he covered me with a blanket. “Fuck, Valentino!” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied softly as he laid on the bed next to me, just out of my reach. “I didn’t know.” 

“Know what?” I demanded as I pulled on the restraints. 

“How we can have kids someday, mi amore.”

#the vees #valentino x reader #hazbin fluff #valentino x you #valentino x wife #valentino #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino smut #valentino x female reader #valentino x vox

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington sick fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff

[wispyfacedjoel]

laundry (joel miller x f!reader)

summery - you have a favour to ask joel...in the laundry. warnings/tags - loss of virginity/innocence, implied age difference, unprotected PIV, soft!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of crying, lots of licking, thumb sucking, biting, dad joel mentioned. i think that's all, if i missed anything let me know. word count - 2.5k note - watched sharp stick with jon bernthal and got inspired to do it with joel cause i needed to do it for my own sanity. sorry not sorry tbh.

You peeked into the laundry, basket in hand filled children's toys, seeing him standing there, mumbling the tune to some song that was released before you were even born.

He was bouncing his head slightly to the tune flowing from his lips, soft, curly brown locks tossing with his movements. Your eyes raked down his covered length, baggy grey sweatshirt, and black basketball shorts.

You wish they were shorter, the meat of his thighs always making your face feel warm.

You had just put his son down to sleep, assuring yourself that he would hopefully sleep for a full hour before he came bounding down the stairs, demanding someone play trucks with him.

You didn’t mind babysitting though, he was a lovely little boy.

You announced yourself by coming in to place the basket of toys onto the dryer beside the washer he was using.

He jumped softly at the sound of your entrance, saying your name in surprised. You smiled at him, unable to stop the grin from forming on your face whenever you had his attention.

Those big, expressive, brown eyes dancing over the expansion of your face, occasionally flickering down to your lips if you were speaking.

"Hi." You mumbled shyly, ringing your hands together behind your back.

Joel smiled warmly. "Hey there, darlin'" he chuckled softly at your nervous demeanour. "Everythin' alright?" his southern drawl combined with the caring caress of his words made the heat pool between your legs.

You swallowed, eyes flickering around the room before finally landing on his again. "I have something to ask." You mumbled, hands squeezing together behind your back.

His expression grew serious, he stepped slightly closer, bringing his long, thick arm out to shut the laundry door. "What is it?" he pressed, eyebrows furrowing down together.

You took a deep breath, recalling the words your mother and sister spoke about the night before. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" the words left your lips in a breathless manner, heart rate skyrocketing as you stared into his eyes.

His eyes ever so sneakily, flitted down toward your bottom lip before returning to your eyes. He blinked a few times, confusion morphing onto his face as he stared at you. "Huh?"

You were already going to pull your long skirt up, "Woah, woah-" Joel's hands shot out, grasping the light green fabric on your skirt. He said your name again, more slowly, "...you really don't mean to do that," He shook his head, eyes flickering down once more to the edges of your skirt he held tightly within his calloused grip. "I'm sorry if I...uh...have you t-the-the wrong impression, or something, but listen-"

You interrupted him, "So, you...you d-don't think I'm beautiful?" you asked, voice lowering as your hands trembled against the fabric of your skirt, heart violently beating against your rib cage.

He shook his head slowly as if he were trying to comprehend your words while his hands removed themselves off your skirt. He stumbled over his words for a moment, "No, I just...I haven't - no, you are! Yeah," he let out a breathy chuckled, falling back against the white wall behind him and a small smile finding its way onto his plush lips. "'Course you are."

"I'm still a virgin, you know." You interrupted once more, your own smiling tickling the corners of your mouth at his confession.

"Shut the fuck up," Joel said in disbelief, lowering his head toward you slightly. "Really...wow. Huh," he chuckled once more, a warmth filled your chest at his disbelief. "That's crazy...I-I just didn't," he shook his head. "Really? I mean that's great! Good for you, that's somethin' you should protect and-"

You lowered your gaze to the ground, "No," you shook your head, his words stopping. "I don't wanna be a virgin." Your eyes lifted back to his.

"Why?" Joel asked.

"Because, I'm twenty-six," you replied, as if it were obvious to why you were asking him this.

He shook his head, his hand coming to scratch at the greying scruff surrounding his jaw. You took in the way his neatly cut fingernails dragged through the course hairs, darker hairs on his fingers just below the knuckle standing out against his tanned skin.

He shook his head once more, but before he could mumble another word, you spoke again. "And I like you." You mumbled, doe-eyes peering up into his through your lashes.

"M-Me?" he asked, somewhat confused.

You nodded quickly, "You're very kind to me whenever I come here to help out, you're sensitive. And masculine-"

"Alright, alright," He cut you off this time, hand coming up to his mouth as he looked down toward where your skirt was raised just enough to he could catch the slightest glimpse of your blue cotton underwear.

You stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to fill the silence. He kept those brown eyes off your face, staring down at the dryer that your knee was resting against. "I gotta tell you somethin'...I'm-I-I'm-I'm older than you and I know a few things...I promise you, you do not wanna lose your virginity...to me."

You shook your head, smiling softly but Joel continued. "I'm not just sayin' this," he held his hands out, eyes coming back to yours as he noticed your reaction. "I'm like...old..and grizzled. And my b-body is like...just trust me. Please? You don't want this." He argued back, shaking his head down, brown flocks flopping delicately against the skin of his forehead.

You took a deep breath, "I want this," You confirmed, fingers beginning to pull your skirt up again. His eyes fell down toward the space between your legs. "I...I just n-need you to...to please do this one-one favour for me. Please," You begged softly, knees shaking under his heated gaze. He got close, head an inch away from yours. "If you think I'm beautiful."

Your skin erupted in goosebumps at his proximity and you were sure you looked absolutely desperate. He took a breath, it wafted into your face and you got a hint of mint with it.

He stared into your eyes while nodding, "I do," he swallowed. "I do...think you're beautiful." He leaned closer again, pulling back ever so slightly. "C-Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, a grin taking over your mouth. "Yeah."

He let out a breath, head falling to the other side. "Okay," he smiled softly, eyes on your lips. "I'm gonna." You nodded once more, his index finger brushing softly against your cheek before gripping your chin with his index finger and thumb.

He then moved his hand to cup your cheek, "Oh fuck." He muttered before pushing forward and delicately pressing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes shut immediately, a soft whimper coming from your throat at the feeling of his soft lips melding with yours.

He pulled back softly, tongue darting out to swipe the inside of your upper lip, not once, but twice. His nose brushed against yours as he continued to push forward slightly, but then backward again - yours breathes mingling in the tight space between you.

When his mouth fell back onto yours, he repeated the same thing - allowed you to taste his lips before pulling back to lick the inside of your upper lip, not once, but twice.

Your lips fell onto his hooked nose for a moment and then his head was falling into your neck. Gripping the one side before harshly biting down on the other.

You gasped out, coming to grasp at the base of his head were the curls were most defined. You felt his teeth scrape against the vein that was evident poking out through your skin.

"Can I go down on you?" he whispered into your ear, tongue darting out to lick at your earlobe.

You nodded, eyes tightly shut. "Yes." You said, breathlessly even if you didn’t really know what that meant.

His body lowered down onto his knees with a soft groan and his head go under the fabric of your skirt.

He kissed it first through the material of your panties, feeling his lips against the covered expansion of your mound before he was moving the fabric out of the way to kitten lick at your seam.

His nose was buried against your clit, your vision whiting out when his tongue moved up to flick back and forth against the bundle of nerves.

You moaned, hands coming down under your skirt to grasp at his greying locks and tugging. The tug made him groan, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

His tongue moved back to your hole, gently prodding around before the thick muscle pushed its way inside. You gasped, eyes rolling back into your head as his assault on your pussy made your legs shake.

He then brought his thick fingers up, his head coming above your skirt to ask, "Can I put my fingers inside you?" his jaw and mouth covered with wetness.

Your mouth was dropped open at the sight, feeling another syrupy drop of arousal leave your hole and roll down his fingers. "Yes." You eagerly nodded, watching him smirk before diving back under your skirt.

His fingers prodded around your hole, tongue swiping gently across your clit. The initial intrusion caused you to lift up onto your tiptoes before lowering back down when the burn subsides as two of his thick digits moved in and out.

He curled them slightly, while absolutely sucking on your clit while hitting something deep within in you that had your knees buckling. His free arm held up while you felt yourself get closer, and closer to your release.

"Joel." You whimpered, eyes furrowing shut.

His lips left your clit, "That's it darlin'...all over my fingers...into my mouth. I wanna feel it." His low voice made your knees quiver once more and was the reason the thread snapped inside of you and you began gushing around his fingers.

"Good girl," He purred softly, removing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. "Taste so fuckin' sweet." He praised, kissing your thigh once before letting his hands trail up your body to grope your breasts.

You smiled down at him. "Can we do the...the sex now?" you whispered breathlessly, watching how he chuckled softly, eyes crinkling around the corners.

"Yeah darlin'...yeah we can do the sex now," he nodded standing up once more, you listened as his knees cracked with the pressure finally off them. "Come...lie down here...let me get you something for your head."

He laid you gently down on the floor, placing a towel under your head before coming to hover above you - elbows on either side of your head.

"Just gonna take these off," he whispered, fingers moving under your skirt again to pull your panties down your smooth legs. You nodded, assisting him by bending your knees until they were off. "Alright...now you gotta promise me darlin' that if anythin' hurts or feels uncomfortable...you promise to tell me, alright?" he said, eyes serious as they intently looked down into yours.

You nodded, smile present on your lips as his caring nature. "Alright."

Joel smiled, his one hand coming to brush against your cheek. "Alright, ready?" you nodded and watched him reach down, pulling his basketball shorts down just so that his cock would be out.

You felt the fat head prod around at your hole and you inhaled a breath. His eyes locked back onto yours, "S'alright," he reassured with a nod, gently pushing the head into your hole. You felt the burn, the stretch, the ache, your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, "Shh, shh," Joel cooed softly, whimpering above you as his elbow began shaking. "Feel okay? Nothin' hurt?" he asked, a pained expression on his face.

You shook your head, feeling him bottom out. A whiny moan left your lips and Joel's hands were back cradling your cheeks. He began to slowly move, "Jesus, fuck." Joel groaned, head lowering down toward your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his shoulders move as he tried to keep himself steady above you. His whimpering and groaning beside your ear causing you to clench around him.

He hissed, "Fuck, darlin', try-try not do that." He whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as his cock knocked against that one spot, over and over.

You nodded your head, your skin brushing against his curly head of hair. "Okay." You moaned, eyes rolling into your head.

His head came back up to stare into your eyes, his pupils blown wide, barely any of that warm brown color left. "Shh, darlin', you can't be loud," he shook his head, bringing his thumb up to your lips. "Open."

Your mouth opened and he stuck his thumb inside. You began to suck on it, feeling your eyes water from his cock pressing deep within you, feeling it in your stomach.

The heavy weight of his thumb was welcomed against your tongue, a source grounding as you felt your hips begin to rise as your orgasm neared. "Fuck, shit, fuck, you're so fuckin' tight." He moaned out again, dropping his forehead onto yours.

You felt the sweat against his hairline press onto yours, you moaned around his thumb, tongue swiping over the top of it. "You're so fuckin' close, aren't you? Can feel this tight fuckin' cunt squeeze my fuckin' cock, darlin'." Joel panted, words filled with filth.

You nodded your head, tears falling from the corners of your mouth as the sounds filling the laundry were obscene. The lewd suck of your pussy, his heavy breaths and your whimpers.

He removed his thumb from your mouth to circle your clit. "Give it to me." He growled, pressing down on the nub and causing your eyes to cross.

Your mouth fell open, a feeling of euphoria washing over you as you felt your pussy violently throb and clench around his length. Your arousal gushed out from you once more, dripping down his basketball shorts.

"Where do you want me to come, darlin'?" he asked, thrusts becoming sloppy.

You licked your lips, eyes rolling from still feeling him pound that one spot. "Inside." You whispered.

"Fuck, are you sure?"

You nodded, grasping his jaw. "Yes. Please. Inside. My mother has a collection of…plan b pills in her medicine cabinet."

Joel's eyes rolled back into his head, "Fuck, shitshitshitshit," he chanted, his head falling down by your ear as his thrusts became slow rolls of his hips. "I'm comin'."

You then felt it, the first spurt, burning your insides. He was painting you with himself, leaving his imprint inside of you just like the throbbing bite against your neck.

He continued to whimper softly and rock his hips before it became too much and he stilled inside of you.

The warmth you felt was unlike anything you had ever felt before, you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting this feeling to disappear.

"Thank you." You whimpered.

Joel brought his head back up to look at you, his mouth slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed. "Why you thankin' me?" he chuckled softly, sweating dripping down his forehead.

You shrugged, wanting to lick into his opened mouth. "You did me a favour."

Joel smiled, a wide grin. "Sure darlin'...whenever you need another favour...come by my office and bother me." He pressed his lips delicately onto yours before he was pulling out of you with a hiss.

As he helped clean you up and drag your underwear up your legs, you were sure that anytime you needed anything - you were going straight to Joel.

#joel miller #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

₊˚⊹ your sweet lips on my lips 🧸

about : first kiss and early mornings w mike <33. title is a hozier lyric from like real people do!!

warnings : a little longer than usual!! 1.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader ( once lol )

author’s note : I WANT TO KISS HIM SO BAD AAAAAUGHHHH. i’m so obsessed w him my brain is him and him only

your breaths were slow and steady as you slept in an uncomfortable position on mike’s couch. the tv was on low volume in the background, playing reruns of some old sitcom that your parents probably watched as kids. you were tucked under a small throw blanket that was always draped over the back of the couch, and a couple of your limbs were dangling over the edge of the cushions.

you were looking for work and mike had hired you to babysit abby. although with the hours you were at his house, it was more of just making sure abby was asleep and then more often than not, falling asleep yourself. the pay wasn’t great, but you didn’t mind. you really liked abby, and got along with her well. and well… her brother had caught your eye. he was a bit of a loser, sure, but you found him endearing. you admired how hard he worked in order to support his younger sister, it was clear she meant a lot to him. plus he was always kind to you.

while getting to know abby and becoming a more prominent person in her life, you also passingly got to know mike. abby had plenty of stories to tell, and you would often have short conversations with him before or after his shift. she had even let it slip once that mike was interested in you, and may or may not have a crush on you.

“my brother talks about you a lot, you know.” abby said oh so casually as you were helping her get ready for bed one night.

“is that so?” you quirked a brow, suddenly very intrigued at what secrets she might spill. you had harbored feelings towards the man for a while, probably as long as you’d been babysitting abby for. you always thought he would never reciprocate your feelings, and therefore decided to keep quiet about your crush.

“yeah, he says you’re pretty and you make him happy. and he’s glad you get along with me. he likes that” she said, looking up at you as you tucked her blankets around her.

you felt your cheeks grow warm, and a smile broke out on your face. “that’s good to know. he makes me happy as well, both of you do.”

“he also said he wishes he had time to get to know you more. i think he likes you. do you like him too?” abby inquired as she snuggled into the covers.

you thought carefully for a moment before responding. “i do, yeah. and i would definitely like to spend time with him if i’m given the chance. but that’s enough for tonight, it’s already late. sleep well, abby. i’ll be in the other room if you need me.” you press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before standing up and leaving her bedroom for the night.

that very brief conversation with abby stayed on your mind for the following days. when mike came home early the next morning you were more flustered than ever when you spoke to him. since then you had been trying to find a way to make your feelings a little more known, hoping one of you would have the courage to finally confess.

keys jingled and the front doorknob rattled as mike let himself into the house. it was quiet, as it was just past 6am. the only sounds were the faint conversations of the show on the television, and the sound of his own footsteps padding across the floor. he set down his keys and kicked his shoes off before making his way into the living room where he saw you fast asleep. he quietly picked the remote off of the coffee table and turned the tv off.

although he wasn’t quiet enough, and you started to stir. “abby?” you asked tiredly. you blinked up at mike, slowly starting to sit up as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“nope, it’s me. sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” he replied quietly as he set the remote back on the table. “did everything go alright with abby?”

you sat quietly for a moment, trying to find your thoughts in your sleep hazed brain. “yeah, she ate a good amount of her dinner and then we hung out and watched tv for a while before she went to bed. how was work?” you had pushed away the blanket and now sat upright, looking up at mike. he looked tired, which was to be expected. despite his exhausted features he looked handsome, although this wasn’t a new discovery.

his voice shook you out of your thoughts. “it was boring, but it pays.” he shrugs. “want some coffee?” he leaned his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“coffee sounds good” you smile. he starts to walk toward the kitchen and you follow behind him. damn, his butt looks good in those pants.

“i always feel bad falling asleep, i feel like i should be the one making coffee and breakfast for you.” you noted lightheartedly. you were trying not to gawk at him, which had been proven increasingly difficult after abby told you that he was in fact interested in you.

“i appreciate it, but it’s no big deal, really. i understand it can be a little boring being here all night. i trust you with abby, so if you need to sleep, sleep.” mike replied tiredly. you made a mental note to try and at least make coffee for him before he came home in the future.

once in the kitchen, he started gathering everything he needed to make just enough coffee for the both of you. you leaned against the counter, your back facing the wall. the two of you stood in comfortable, sleepy silence as the coffee brewed.

once the coffee maker had stopped gurgling, signaling the coffee was done, he grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and poured you each a cup. you added the ingredients to make it just the way you liked it before taking a sip, nearly burning your tongue.

you could feel his eyes on you. not in a creepy way, but in admiration. he took a sip of his own coffee, his eyes lingering on your frame. you let your gaze wander back to him, meeting his own. you gave him a smile as you took another sip of your coffee.

"i uh.. would you like to go out with me one day? just us?" he stammered. he averted his gaze to his coffee, swishing the dark liquid inside to distract himself.

you smiled, giggling to yourself. it seems like abby was right about mike's feelings for you, not that you doubted her. you took a moment to collect yourself before responding. "yeah. yeah, i'd love to."

"he looked back up at you with a goofy smile on his face. "okay, cool. does tomorrow night work?"

you nodded, "yeah, that's perfect." you knew abby wouldn't lie to you about how mike felt, but it still made you giddy when he actually showed that he had feelings for you. you glanced over at the little digital clock on the stove. 7:08am. you took one last sip of your coffee, placing it down on the counter. "i should probably go, i have an appointment that i need to get to. you have work tonight, right?"

he looked disappointed, but nodded. "yeah. i'll see you later then?"

you nodded in response, "yeah, of course." you stepped closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

his cheeks immediately flushed and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he’s had other partners and had been in relationships before, but it had been so long since he was as infatuated with someone as he was with you. you were still close to him, and he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. he paused to make sure you were okay with it, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

but you didn’t. you leaned in further and pressed your lips to his briefly, somewhat hesitantly. he grabbed your hip, holding you firmly but gently. he kissed you again, this time with more confidence. this kiss was longer, more passionate, and it only increased the feeling of butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“took you guys long enough. are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?” a small voice comes from the other side of the room. you and mike quickly pulled away from the kiss, much more flustered now that you had been caught by mike’s youthful sister. neither of you had heard her approach, and were startled at her sudden presence.

after recovering from the slight embarrassment, you looked at mike questioningly to see if, and how he would answer abby’s question.

“i sure hope so” he smiles, his attention focused back on you. “it’s up to them though.”

“i’d like that” you smiled back at him.

#pursuedbyamemory writes #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's

[thot-of-khonshu]

Say You Love Me (Joel Miller x f! reader)

1K Celebration | Masterlist

Part 2 - Coming Soon

Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader (pre and post outbreak)

Rating: M (18+, explicit smut)

Word Count: 6.2K

Summary: Red wine. Rage. Regret. Reunions. When pride separates you from the man that got away in 2003, you thought you’d never see him again. But when going to tie loose ends for Bill and Frank, you see him and a young companion.

Content: TLOU spoilers, slight changes to the story, age gap (~10-15 years), multiple sex scenes, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl, creampie, oral (f), rough sex, alcohol consumption, grief, violence, mentions of death, the musical stylings of Fleetwood Mac

A/N: Happy TLOU day! This initially started out as a creation for my 1K celebration to "Maroon" by Taylor Swift, but as you can see it completely manifested into its own short story. Thanks to everyone for being patient for my writing. I hope y'all enjoy!

Every time you have a dream about everything before, you try to document it down in your ratty journal with your pen running on empty. Everything seems to run on empty.

You dream of your former life less and less as the years go by. It’s a hazy memory and you can’t remember how we were able to live on such luxuries and be comfortable and be happy. 

You dream of the man with his large hands and warm smile on your living room floor, warm with wine. 

Red lips. Red cheeks. Red wine. 

The bitter taste of cheap red blends on his tongue. 

Sticky Austin nights where you’d start outside in the thick humidity but end it in ice cold a/c. It never mattered anyway, Joel always ran hot like a furnace so you’d have to settle yourself in between thin sheets. 

You met through Megan who was dating his younger brother Tommy, a Gulf War vet that was more serious about holding his liquor than he ever was fighting in the war. One night when he’d had too much to drink, Joel, the responsible one, picked him up. A sleeping baby girl in the backseat. 

He barged through your front door. “Tommy, what the hell are you doin’ bothering these–” 

He stopped as soon as he looked at you. From that moment it was like the two of you had this instant communication. He didn’t have to say anything, all you needed to do was look into his eyes. 

“HI there.” He smile at you, that warm smile with that dimple on the side of his cheek. “I–uh–hope you’re not the girl my little brother’s been botherin’ “

“That would be my roommate.” You smile back at him. His smile grows even wider and you can’t remember the last time you had such electric eye contact with someone. 

Tommy bursts through the door, coming out of the bathroom with Megan hoisting his large frame.

“Please get him in bed and away from vodka.” She hoists Tommy onto Joel. 

“Tell me a bedtime story.” He slurs. Joel looks at you apologetically as he turns to bring him to the car. You and Megan exchanged a silent look as she could pick up on what was going on and she nudged you to go after him. 

“Hey wait!” You call out, you try not to focus on his broad back muscles. “I think it’s clear Tommy needs some chaperoning whenever he comes over here.”

He furrows his brow in confusion at first. “Y’know, his big brother to come over and make sure he’s doing right?” ‘You smile. 

“Just say when and I’ll tag along.” Joel winks at you. 

He was always a man of his word. 

The next weekend, Megan invited Tommy over and suggested he bring Joel along as well. Tommy came barreling in like a freight train and Joel laid back to greet you at the door. He held up a six pack of beer. 

“I didn’t wanna come over empty handed. It’s all we had in the fridge.” Joel said. 

“Yeah, Joel wanted to come right over after workin’ tonight. Even let Sarah stay at a friends house, ain’t that sweet?”

“Alright, Tommy. I still clearly gotta babysit you.” Joel rolls his eyes. 

“We’ll, thank you for the beer, Joel but we’re more wine drinkers here. Do you like red blend?”

“I’ll drink whatever you give me.”

————————

A few hours later, Megan and Tommy have gone off on their own adventure. You and Joel split the bottle of wine between the two of you and despite him stating he could handle his liquor, his large body was sprawled out across your living room floor with his empty glass tipped over. 

“Miller, I thought you said you could handle your liquor.” You grin at him from the couch. 

“I usually can. I don’t know what was in your roommate’s cheapass screwtop–” 

“Hey–don’t blame the alcohol for why you’re currently on our living room floor right now. And while she can’t defend herself.” 

“You saying I’m a sloppy drunk?” He leans closer towards you and you observe the patches in his beard. 

“I’m saying I don’t wanna hold your hair back above the toilet.” You grin at him. He looks at you, hard. You feel your heart rate rising and the moment is almost too much to handle. You need to ground yourself with something, anything. You turn to your vinyls. 

“You like records?” You ask him, moving towards the shelf. 

“Didn’t know people your age still listened to them.” He called out. You scoffed. 

“I’m not that much younger than you. Besides, this is timeless. CDs might come and go like 8 track players, but these? These are gonna last through everything.” You hold up a record and he nods in approval, Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You flip to side two and the sounds of “Say You Love Me” flood the living room. 

You join him on the living room rug and close your eyes, listening to Christine McVie’s voice. 

Have mercy, baby, on a poor girl like me

You know I'm falling, falling, falling at your feet

I'm tingling right from my head to my toes

So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go

“God, her voice is just so ageless. I know everyone always looks at Rumours as their best but this one is just cla–” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand brush your cheek. You feel the warmth of his face coming closer and closer as you finally open your eyes to see Joel ready to kiss you. 

But he forgot his wine glass in his hand as it spilled onto you with the remainder of his alcohol. 

“Shit, shit.” Joel stumbles up and looks around. “I am so sorry, I can clean that up.” 

You get up to him walking around your kitchen, looking for paper towels. When he turns around, you put your hand at his chest and look up at his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Why don’t you help me find a new shirt?” You ask him in a low voice. His jaw is slacked as he slowly nods. 

“Yes ma’am.” He follows behind you, taking your hand as you lead him into your bedroom. 

One thing about Joel Miller? He takes his time. He takes his time giving you soft, syrupy kisses and drawing the anticipation by pulling at your lip. 

He builds you up by meticulously touching every part of your body while peeling off your clothes, grabbing at the swell of your ass, the dips of your hips and pulling at the back of your neck. He wants to make you feel amazing.

Once you’re naked, he lays you on top of your bed and peers up at you as he pulls your knees apart. 

He drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, savoring your taste as he moans in relief. You tremble against him, dragging your hand through his dark curls as he begins to put his full mouth into you, his tongue entering you as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t help but squirm on top of him, rocking onto him as he moans below you. 

“You taste so fucking good.” Joel gets up for air briefly and dives back in. Kissing at your inner thighs, he takes one of his thick fingers and pushes one into you, your body instantly tightening around it. 

“So wet for me too.” Joel moans. He moves in earnest, putting his mouth back onto your clit and the pleasure is all you can concentrate on. He adds another finger, getting up to watch you squirm at his fingers as your wetness fills the room from his methodical thrusts. 

You feel yourself tense, your muscles tightening around him as your pleasure intensifies and your breaths go shallow. When he curves his fingers and moves his mouth back to your clit, you short circuit completely. 

You writhe on top of him as you cum, moaning louder than you’d expected and hoping Tommy and Megan don’t hear anything. Your shallow breaths fill the room and your eyes are shut. Pleasure still pulsates through your body as Joel is now on top of you, kissing at your throat as you feel his heavy, still clothed cock on top of you. 

When you release it, it springs from his boxers, thick and dripping at the top with precum. You rub the tip of his head as he lets out a hiss of air at your throat. You bring the liquid to your mouth and savor the taste. 

“I hope this ain’t too forward,” His hands cup and knead at your breasts. “But I’m desperate to feel you.” 

“Please” You beg. “I have condoms but I’m also on the pill. Whatever you need, just please don’t stop.” 

Joel lines himself up against you, rubbing his thick cock against your soaked walls. His eyes don’t leave yours as he gently enters you. It’s soft at first, him trying to fit in every single inch while also not cumming immediately while he was inside of you. You gripped him, wet and tight. 

During the pause when he’s finally deep inside of you, you both are riddled with heavy breathing. Your kisses are slow but hungry. You start to move below him and that’s what drives him wild. 

He begins to pump faster inside of you, rubbing himself against your swollen clit. You don’t think you’ve ever had something so intimate before. You’d had sex, but this just felt like something out of another dimension. Joel was entirely focused on your pleasure, hungrily pawing at your body as he rocked on top of you. 

When circled his fingers on your clit, you knew you were going to cum a second time. You grabbed at the bedsheets, another climax of pleasure making you arch. 

After you came twice, Joel was needier. He raised your leg so he could get into a deeper position and you had felt so incredibly full. He fucks you at a rapid speed and feeling you convulse around him for another orgasm wasn’t helping and the room filled with the noise of his balls slapping onto your skin. 

You loved that his broad body surrounded you, that all you could feel was him and all you could hear were his grunts into your ear. His hips began to stutter as he filled himself into you, emptying himself as much as he could into your tight walls. 

You don’t realize how badly you were gripping him until you rub his back, his head on your chest and you feel the claw marks. His breathing is labored, still feeling the impact of your sex as you bury your fingers into his curls. 

“This should go without being said,” Joel looked up at you. “But I would really like to take you out sometime.” 

You weren’t going to say no to that. 

—---------------------------------

You wake up, the motion of the car rattling you. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Megan smiles behind the steering wheel. Before everything, Megan was terrified of driving and now you’d catch her dead before she’d stop and pick someone up, choosing to run them over instead because they were likely a hunter. 

And wouldn’t you rather kill than be killed? 

It all happened so fast but so painfully, hauntingly slow at the same time. In one night, civilization as you knew it had ceased to exist. Megan came home, shaking, covered in blood telling you you had to leave tonight. 

You drove until you ran out of gas. You walked until you were able to rob some idiots that tried to give you a ride and take advantage of you. And that’s how you ended up at the Philadelphia quarantine zone. Somewhere far away from Texas and the sticky heat and long carefree nights.

There were a lot of men like that in this world, who thought they could take things from vulnerable women. Little did they realize, the vulnerable women didn’t make it. Not all of them were like that, though. Bill and Frank weren’t. 

You’d met Frank over the radio, talking over some music his partner BIll was playing as some sort of signal. Frank was incredibly kind, warm and worldly in a world with almost nothing left. He’d offered to trade things between you and Megan’s QZ and the Lincoln town he lived in with Bill. 

And Bill? He was…Bill. He wasn’t exactly kind and open to strangers, but he knew the both of you and trusted you after all of these years. Whoever Frank loved, he loved. So when you’d heard the 80’s distress signal coming from the radio, you’d decided to risk the trip and make sure everything was okay. 

When you had gotten to the gate, usually coded, it was wide open and the two of you exchanged looks in surprise. Without having to say a word, you grabbed your handgun out of the glove compartment. Megan pulled up to Bill and Frank’s, seeing their door open. 

The two of you had tried to get out of the car as quietly as possible. Crouching behind the car as you heard the crunch of footsteps. 

“It could be Bill and Frank.” Megan whispered. 

“When is it like Bill to ever keep the gate open?” You asked her. You heard the crunches coming closer. 

The two of you signal to step out at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. After all of this time, it never gets easier doing this. 

Before you could pull the trigger, you hear a HYAH and see a small figure jump out towards you. 

Jesus, it’s a child. Before she could try to stab either of you, Megan pins her down to the ground, knocking the knife out of the way and the kid squirms under her. 

You see another figure jump into frame to defend the kid. A man with grey hair, a broad frame and a handgun. The two of you are in a standoff but something feels off. You know you’ve been to Lincoln so many times before but something about this feels entirely too familiar. 

“Do not hurt the kid.” The man drawls, looking down at her and then back at you. “She didn’t—“

And then his eyes meet yours. Still as piercing as you remember. And you realize that you’re standing in front of Joel Miller for the first time in twenty years. 

“…Joel?” Megan says something first. 

“Hi Megan.” He looks at her briefly to acknowledge her, but he looks back at you. The gun still in his hand, gripped tightly. 

“We’re not looking for any trouble.” Joel says. “We’re here to check on our friends.”

“Bill and Frank.” You finally say to him. “Our friends.” The look of confusion on his face is apparent. 

“You two knew Bill and Frank?” He asks. 

“How about ‘it’s good to see you two alive after all this time’, Joel?” You ask him, exasperated. You were tired of holding this gun, your hands were getting clammy and you had no intentions of shooting him. Even after all this time, you knew he wouldn’t shoot both of you either. 

Megan lets the girl up and she runs to Joel. She puts her gun down and you motion for him to follow suit. He looks at you for a long hard moment, his eyes scanning your body as you feel yourself redden with embarrassment, feeling fully exposed in front of him and looking like apocalyptic shit. He sets his gun down as you follow suit. 

“I think y’all should come inside, then.” Joel said. “Some things you need to see.” 

You follow Joel and the young girl-you find out her name is Ellie- into Bill and Frank’s house. You go to the same place that Bill and Frank would keep supplies, notes or any clothing that Frank had to spare - the second cabinet to the right. That’s where you see their note. 

Frank’s condition had worsened over the past few years. A degenerative disease you weren’t sure exactly what it was, but when he asked for a wheelchair from the Philadelphia QZ you were both more than happy to bring it to them. You knew it was only a matter of time before he went. When Bill decided to go with him, you weren’t surprised. Despite his exterior, everything Bill did was for Frank, the man he loved. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that kind of devotion to someone until today. 

The four of you sit at the table. An awkward silence between the four of you, the only sound being Ellie rocking her chair. One of the legs must’ve been broken and Bill hadn’t gotten to it ye–

Oh. Right. 

“I didn’t know Bill and Frank knew anyone else besides us.” Megan said. 

“Likewise. I guess that makes sense.” Joel said, his eyes still on you.

You agreed. “Frank, I’m sure, would’ve loved the extra company. More people to host garden parties and socialize for but if Bill had anything to do with it–” 

“He would’ve threatened to kill us.” You say in unison. 

“Trust me, he made sure to make us aware if we tried anything he had his gun right on the table the first time we met.” You said. 

“His reputation precedes himself.” Joel said. 

The two of you are silent for a moment. Megan and Ellie looking between the both of you. 

“Am I missing something?” Ellie asked, pointing at the two of you back and forth. 

“And I think that’s my queue to look around for some food. Maybe we can have some dinner, figure out what the fuck we’re doing and then call it a night before we go our separate ways, huh?” Megan quickly said. 

You sit at the table with Joel and Ellie, completely silent as Joel is now looking away from you and Ellie keeps looking at the both of you. 

“You can cut the tension with a knife, huh?” Ellie whistles. 

“Ellie, go take a shower. They’ve got hot water.” Joel says. She quickly gets up and runs down the hall. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice. But after I take one, you’re going in because man. And if we’re gonna be around company…” 

“Ellie.” He raises his voice into a stern inflection you haven’t heard since…

Where the hell is Sarah? 

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you’ve hunkered down with Megan, Joel and Ellie. The four of you have rabbit along with some vegetables and rice from Frank’s garden. The tension has subsided as you’ve gotten into the wine cabinet. That’s when the memories flow back. The three of you share stories from Texas, your old lives that seem so long ago. Reminiscing on how things used to be as Ellie interjects with a question about the old world every now and then while reading a comic she snagged from Bill’s basement. 

Megan eventually stretches her arms up. “Well, I’ve been drivin’ all day and I’m exhausted. I’m about to hit the hay.” 

“Well I am gonna finish reading this in peace and quiet so I can read about this alien’s guts spilling out without interruptions. Goodnight! You kids have fun!” Ellie grins. 

Megan gives you a look etched in worry before she heads to the stairs. You roll your eyes at her because you can take care of your goddamn self. You have been for ages. 

You hear the footsteps go upstairs as you and Joel sit across from each other at the table. It’s like a lockbox with feelings you hadn’t had in years starts rattling in your chest, a monster of them waiting to come out and erupt.  

You look over at him, his hair slicked back from his shower, grays prominent in his hair and his beard. The swell of his lips was still prominent and had the ability to drive you crazy. 

“Bill and Frank.” You say to him, hoping to silence the voices in your own head.  

“Bill and Frank.” He repeats, his hands fidgeting on the table. 

“So, uh, I guess while we’re here–I’m gonna raid the liquor cabinet.” You head to the liquor cabinet to see if there’s anything strong enough to hold the awkward air between the two of you. You see a dusty bottle in the back of the cabinet, a red blend that looked entirely too familiar to pass up. 

You bring it to the table, setting it down in front of Joel. He looks up at you and shakes his head in disbelief, a small smile etched across his face. 

“After all this time, you still drink the same shitty red blend.” Joel says. 

“Can you handle your liquor any better, Miller?” You slide it towards him, he catches the bottle with one large hand. 

“I guess we’ll have to see.” He grumbles, slicing the wine bottle open with his knife. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel the heaviness of the wine, sloshing in your stomach as you and Joel took turns taking long drinks from the bottle. 

He tells you of Tess, his smuggling partner that had recently gotten infected while smuggling Ellie out of the city. While you admired her bravery and her sacrifice, you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. You’d had your partners every now and then, but none of them ever stuck around long enough. None of them ever mattered like he did. 

“She was like family.”  He stated. 

You knew you couldn’t just say sorry. “I’m sorry for your loss” almost seems insulting these days with teh weight of how much it happens. 

“Did–uh–you have any smuggling partners?” Joel asks, sipping on the bottle and looking away as if to play nonchalant. Twenty years and you can still tell when it’s all bullshit. 

“I did. None of them were exactly like family but they were enough to help Megan and I get by. I never trusted them enough to introduce them to Bill and Frank.” You said. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say. 

“I–I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let myself get too far with anyone after–” You can’t even bare to say it. But he looks at you as if you have, like you’ve just cut part of his soul open. 

“What the fuck happened?” You muttered, swigging from the bottle.

“You want the version they’re teaching kids in FEDRA school or the version we remember?” Joel asked. 

“Joel…” You give him a long look. He looks at you, briefly, breaking eye contact to look anywhere else and scowl. He chooses to grab the bottle from you, taking a large gulp. 

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He says. 

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You say. “But I still wanna know. I just…we could’ve had this life.” 

His brow arches. 

“You and me. Tommy and Megan. Bill and Frank. We could’ve been a team. It would’ve been something.” 

“Tommy decided to fuck off and join the Fireflies. Pretend like he was makin’ a difference. And then when that fell through last I heard he was in Wyoming. Megan was better off.” He stated. 

“You were…” He silently mutters. 

“We don’t have to talk about any of it. I’ve done some shit I regret but I did it to survive. Because that’s what we have to do in this new world. I get it. But those first few years…I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

He takes a large drink of wine. “Or Tommy.” 

“Or Sarah.” 

“Well, there’s no damn use in thinkin’, is there?” Joel snaps back. You know you’ve clearly hit a nerve talking about Sarah. With whatever happened to her. Was she with the Fireflies? Was she with her Uncle Tommy? You’d hate to think it could be any worse. That brilliant, beautiful girl in any sort of trouble or not existing in this world. 

By the pain in Joel’s eyes, the exterior he’d tried to mask by furrowed brows and a hardened expression, you knew. Suddenly the air felt thick. 

“I’m sorry…I’m gonna step outside.” You rush to the porch as you feel the tears flood through your eyes. Sarah’s gone. You didn’t know that after all of the pain, after all of the violence, after everything this world has taken from you, that you could still feel this searing pain of loss. 

You suddenly hated yourself for not being there. For not calling. For running away from things when they had gotten too serious, as if some bullshit relationship problems would matter in a week’s time in that moment. You had no idea what was about to happen. 

If you’d known you would’ve lost everything and everyone in your life you had loved, you would’ve tried to hold on to the man you loved and his family for as long as you could. 

But then again…maybe it was better this way that you weren’t there. You didn’t hold him back, you didn’t hold him back either. This world isn’t for the weak. Love makes you fucking weak. Joel makes you so fucking weak, 20 years later. It’s infuriating, intoxicating and confusing. 

You hear the door open and footsteps come through. You wipe your tears away as you see Joel sit next to you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, solemnly. “You didn’t know. It was that night of the…” 

“I know it’s so god damn insignificant now…but I’m so sorry I didn’t call.” You choke. Joel remains silent, his lips wavering. 

“You didn’t know.” He repeats himself. 

“So what happens now?” You ask him. 

“We do what we came here to do. Get our supplies, celebrate Bill and Frank and we drink.”  

“We drink.” You nod. 

And drink you did. 

You drank and remembered the good times, the times when he’d come over every Friday night that Sarah had a sleepover and you’d talk and touch each other until the sun came up. You drank and remember how even though Megan and Tommy had fizzled out, he had still come over to be with you. You drank and remembered the bad times, when you couldn’t handle the intimacy, you both couldn’t decide what this was. 

You can’t bear the way he looks at you. You need an escape. You head to Frank’s record collection. 

You dust off the record collection and see the familiar cover of Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You look up at Joel and his cheeks look like they sting with glee. He lets out a small giggle. 

“What was it I used to tell you?” You try to remember. 

“Records are timeless.” Joel says as you flip the vinyl to side B. “You were always right.” 

The room floods with the faint sounds of “Say You Love Me”. It had been years since you’d heard this song but you still remembered every word. Joel extended his hand out to you and you took it, fingers stroking his palm. 

You pressed yourself lightly against him, turning and looping over the hardwood floor as the music continued. Somehow, someway, you could still smell his subtle sandalwood scent. 

'Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down

And there's not another living soul around

You woo me until the sun comes up

And you say that you love me

The two of you giggled like children as you looped around Bill and Frank’s living room. The light of the moon shone on Joel’s face and the hardened exterior of the older man was gone for a moment, and you were taken back to 2003 where that gorgeous carpenter was leaning against your doorway for the first time. 

Your hand crept up his neck, feeling his peppered curls as he shivered. In response, he pressed his body closer to yours until you were cheek to cheek. 

He turns to face you. His eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion of the feelings that were rising. He never thought he would see you again, and these damn emotions kept flooding through his body. 

“I showed up to your house that morning.” He whispered. “Right after we dropped Sarah off at school. My birthday.” 

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter?” You asked him. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But it would’ve given us one more good day. Before it all went to shit. And if that’s all we had, then I’m okay with that. Better than the alternative.” 

You pressed your lips onto his, slow and calculated at first. You gave him one small peck to test his willingness to kiss you. You looked back at Joel and his eyes were shut tightly. 

“I’m sorry–I shouldn’t have–” You try to break away but he tightens his grip around you. 

“I’m just trying to savor this moment.” Joel whispers. You meet his lips again, hungrier, needier. Both of your hands exploring each other as if to make sure this was real and you weren’t dreaming it. 

“Joel.” You break away as he strokes your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He says. 

It’s no shock that after all this time, you and Joel still fit together like a glove. Your body melts into his with a comfort that you haven’t felt in years. You didn’t know your body could ever feel that good again. 

You didn’t think your hair, greasy and damaged when you looked at it in the mirror, could be stroked like that again. As if Joel had gotten a spool of gold and he didn’t want to ruin it, Joel petted you with delicacy as he undressed you. 

Your stomach, somehow softened throughout the years with age even though you hadn’t had proper nourishment in years, being planted with soft kisses as Joel moved south, desperate to taste your pussy again. 

You climb onto his lap and grip him with one hand, still as thick and as long as ever. You take a moment to look at him through the moonlight, after all these years he’s still incredibly handsome but this world took the sparkle in his eye away. 

“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begs. “Let me feel you again. I’m desperate.” 

That word is what makes you sink down onto him, inch by inch until he’s all the way inside. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to do this without any prep work but you didn’t care, you needed him and it filled a part of you that hadn’t been taken care of in years. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Joel rasps. “You’re still so goddamn tight.” You can feel your inner muscles clenching at his thickness and the desperate groan that he releases makes you weak. 

You start to move, slowly, as his fingers dig into your hips. The pressure between the two of you is unbearable, you feel him and his full length but you’re desperate for more release. Joel’s ragged breaths concern you, though. 

“Are you gonna be okay if I go faster?” You ask him. 

“I ain’t that old, sweetheart.” Joel rasps under you, that damn smile back in action. 

And with that, you lifted yourself up and slammed yourself into him, grinding your clit against his cock at a fast and desperate pace. 

He moves forward, putting a mouthful of your breast into his mouth as his other hand rests on your lower back. You can feel the intense pleasure so blindly that you don’t know how long it’ll be until it boils over. When you contract around him and cum, Joel lets out an animalistic groan. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He moans. “Milk my cock, baby.” 

You ride out your orgasm and just when you think you have time to recover, Joel begins to thrust upward deep and hard. His hips snapping up and bouncing you on top of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling you down to thrust his tongue into your mouth. 

You suck his tongue and desperately cling to him, unsure how much longer you’ll be able to go without cumming again. 

“I can feel it, sweetheart.” Joel groans. “Cum around my cock one more time, just give me one more. Please.” 

He breaks free from your tight embrace to rub your swollen clit as you grind on top of him again, trying to remain as silent as possible so you don’t wake anyone else in the house. 

You convulse and cum around him again, dizzy with pleasure as he takes one leg for leverage and begins to fuck into you harder than before. At this point, you can’t control the sounds coming out of you as he hits a spot inside of you that feels so good. His hips begin to stutter and Joel fills himself into you. He cums so hard that you feel it leaking out of you while he’s still inside. 

The two of you stayed just like that for a few moments, clung to each other as you heard his heartbeat hammering inside of his chest. You peppered soft kisses onto his body as you got from on top of him. The contrast of being full and then leaving him made you wince. 

Joel got up from the bed and you hesitated for a moment. Did he regret this decision? Was he going to sleep in his own bed? When he came back, he had a warm washcloth and he used it to wipe between your legs. Hot water will never be taken for granted in this world. 

The two of you then snuggled up together, the situation being better left unsaid. You knew that you both had to start preparing for the morning, so instead of talking, you just shut your eyes and tried to enjoy his strong arms around you. 

—-----------------

You heard a faint knock at the door and almost forgot where you were for a moment. When you felt Joel’s arms around you, his lips pressing against your cheek, you woke up with the biggest smile you’d had in a very long time. 

“Good morning, you two.” Ellie shouts throughout the door. “Knock knock. Megan’s making breakfast, wake your asses up, lovebirds!” 

“Don’t–don’t come in here Ellie.” Joel tries to exclaim, sleep in his voice. 

“I’m fucking good, man. I’m gonna help Megan with breakfast.” You hear her footsteps as she leaves the hallway and you turn to him. 

He was still there. And suddenly you were reminded of each and every time he’d stayed over, Megan making everyone breakfast as you’d talk and laugh through the previous night. 

This morning was no different. It felt oddly comfortable, the four of you enjoying each other’s company even though you knew it had to end. You’d spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies but then it was time to grab your backpack out of the bedroom. 

Joel was sitting on the edge of the bed. It reminded you of how things were the previous day, where he couldn’t look you in the eye. He was riddled with discomfort. In this world, you’re so used to not even having to say goodbye. That’s honestly not as painful as having to do it. 

You walk up to him, giving him a long hug. 

“Joel, if it’s true what you told me – if she’s immune – this is huge. It might give the world another chance. It might give us another chance.” You say to him. 

“You still have so much hope for the world. That's why I will always love you.” Joel whispers. You feel your heart crack. You feel the toolbox in your chest start to rattle. 

You know you shouldn’t say it. You know you’d be an idiot to say something so vulnerable and stupid in this world. But if you don’t say it, what else do you have? 

“I love you too, Joel. Take care of yourself, okay? Take care of Ellie. If you ever find yourself at the Philadelphia QZ you know where to find me.” You say to him. 

He presses his lips against you softly. As if to savor every moment, every feeling. Every curve and swell of your lip. He grabs at the back of your neck and you mimic him, grabbing the back of his. As if pushing further into the kiss could bring you back to those hot Austin nights. 

Because you knew this was the last time you’d get a good taste of home. 

You walk him out towards the car, Ellie already next to the passenger seat bouncing up and down because she had never ridden in a car before. You and Megan send them both off, his reflection in the rearview mirror never leaving your sight until the truck becomes a small blur. 

“You gonna be okay?” Megan asks you, with that same look of worry she had given you the night before. 

You’re not sure if you will be, but you have to forge ahead as you always do. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” You state. And the two of you get ready to go, heading into the car back to the QZ. 

“Talk about a blast from the fuckin’ past.” Megan says, starting the car. “It’s funny…I had actually heard about Nick – y'know the one that was in the Fireflies– talking about somewhere in Jackson. Small fuckin’ world.” 

You lean your head up against the car window. Your thoughts immediately go back to last night. 

Small fuckin’ world indeed. 

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[rinnieitoshi]

Arranged Marriage

(Reo, Bachira, Isagi , Rin)

bllk boys x f. reader

Reo

-He already expected this along time ago. (Rich family things y'know what I mean)

-Nagi would always tease him that he doesn't want to babysit any demonic child or whatev. (he would chase Reo's child)

-Was annoyed because he's the first person who will get married in bllk.

-Not until he saw you tho. It's like the first time he ever saw Nagi but better. You were an angel.

-Signed those marriage contracts as soon as he got handed one, not even reading those terms.

-In your perspective, he was weird. The first meeting he kept staring at you even when he was signing the papers he would always glance at you. And wtf chooses the color purple as a perfect color to dye their hair.

"Reo is this your girlfriend? Sweetheart! How much did he paid you?"

"first of all, she's my wife, and second get your fucking hand off of her"

-He would take you to shopping almost every day when you're free.

Bachira

-bro was excited to see you.

-He was sad that he's mother was in debt so he would to everything just to help his mother.

-"So the L/n's has a daughter and made a deal with us" (you know the rest)

-You were his best friend! You've already been to millions of date and no luck, your parents are also pushing you to get married so this was your last chance.

-Your best friend has been secretly in love with you so was the best husband that you could ever ask for.

-The best husband ever.

-Clingy asf. Just cuddles and kisses.

-Would always carry you around the house.

-Joins your shower time with no permission. He just enters, you guys are married after all.

-Sleeps on your lap while you're doing your work.

Isagi

-wetting his shorts on your first meet up.

-stuttering all over the place

-"where do I sign? Oh.. - right. Here hehe"

-He didn't question his parents why he had to do it because he saw that his parents were troubling and if this is the only way then so be it.

-Bro stop flirting with him, he can't move.

-He can cook and he would always cook.

-You and his parents are the closest! They would show pictures of baby Isagi pooping or them changing his diapers.

-Would prepare everything when you guys go on a holiday. Plane tickets, hotel and all that!

-Would cook breakfast before he leaves, preps for your lunch boxes, and leaves practices early to cook for your dinner!

-does all the house chores, basically a male wife.

Rin

-Pissed asf.

-He didn't want to do it. He'd rather die. But Sae was already married and he didn't want to lose to him so yeah he just went with it.

-Shidou was teasing the hell out of him.

"fuck off cockroach"

-Bros mood lighten, the younger Itoshi wasn't the Itoshi on the football field.

-He was shy at first but when you were the one who reached out to him he felt your comfort.

"Rin I need to get to work"

"But it's my day off, can't you say that you're in maternity leave"

"Rin.."

-You would prepare him his protein shakes and yoga mats so early in the morning and when he wakes up to see that, instant hug and wouldn't ever let you go.

-When he's at Paris training for PXG, misses you sm and messages you during his breaks.

-Shidou would hit on you and things would get a Lil..

-It's the same feeling as the enjoyable moments with his brothers when he was young, he felt loved. It was love.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock x you #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi au #bllk #bllk isagi #isagi x reader #blue lock isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x you #Isagi #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #bllk bachira #blue lock bachira #Bachira #reo mikage #reo x reader #bllk reo #bllk rin #blue lock reo #reo x you

[stevie-petey]

oh, you didn't know?

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.  “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.

-

Steve has never had the best timing. 

When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died. 

There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face. 

Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”

“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over. 

“Oh my god–”

“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped. 

Well fuck. 

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”

You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”

The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit. 

He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not. 

Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.

So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side. 

Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again. 

You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out. 

After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open. 

Steve’s plan was foolproof. 

Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend. 

However, Steve really should’ve known better. 

His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door. 

There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him. 

You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. 

“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”

There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life. 

At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place. 

A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in. 

Then, late January, your birthday came along. 

This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.

You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake. 

Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly. 

Except that isn’t what happened. 

What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in. 

“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face. 

Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”

You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him. 

Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck. 

He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something. 

He’s miserable. 

Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks. 

You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts. 

The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”

Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”

He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind. 

“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear. 

“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”

This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him. 

“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”

Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”

At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”

“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”

Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along. 

God, he is so stupidly in love with you. 

He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist. 

The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of. 

Then, a thought occurs to Steve. 

“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”

Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.

And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss. 

Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #fluff #valentines day #enjoyyyyyy <3 #mans just wants a gf #bless him

[fuckmyskywalker]

↳ Anakin Skywalker ༉‧☆

[あなたのいいひとになってあげてもいいわよ]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[私を追いかけて、私を壊してください]ㅤㅤ

— One shots : ! ! !

➸ Babysitting [SMUT] : Being Anakin Skywalker's babysitter has plenty of rewards... fucking him is one of them. Just don't get too obsessed with him.

➸ Shaping [SMUT] : He will break you into pieces, just to build you up again.

➸ Yes here [SMUT] : The Chosen One is trapped in an unhappy marriage... he is also a certified cheater. [CHEATING]

➸ Please understand [SMUT] : He did this for you.

➸ Egg [SMUT] : Anakin can be such a crybaby. [SUB!ANAKIN]

➸ Heavy Sleeper [SMUT] : It was your fault. Be careful what you say out loud. Anakin may be around to hear it. [SOMNOPHILIA]

➸ Pussy pleaser [SMUT] : Anakin Skywalker, the designated pussy pleaser of the Galaxy.

➸ Trigger [SMUT] : Let's play a game. [GUNPLAY]

➸ General! [SMUT] : Teach him a lesson. Not touching without permission. [SUB!ANAKIN]

➸ Forbidden [SMUT] : He just... hates you. So much he needs to fuck you in your worst moment. [STEPCEST]

➸ Let me hear you [SMUT] : Boydyguard? Yeah, he is taking care of you in more ways than one.

➸ Meditating [SMUT] : He is a bitch. But you always come back crawling.

➸ Gross Anakin [SMUT] : Title.

➸ Sticky notes [SMUTTY] : Professor!Anakin finds that secret that you hide at the back of your notebook.

➸ Bleed me to death [SMUTTY] : You will do anything for him. [EROGURO, BLOOD]

➸ Cannibalism w/ Anakin [SMUT] : He wants to be one with you. In every way possible. [EROGURO, DARK]

➸ Crossdresser!Anakin [SMUTTY] : He just looks so pretty in your underwear.

➸ Taken [SMUT] : He thinks your coworker is annoying as fuck. [TOXIC!ANAKIN, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP]

➸ Hypersexual (AOTC Anakin) HCS! [SMUTTY–DARKISH] : Sometimes he can be too needy.

➸ Frustrated (AOTC!Anakin). [SMUT] : General Skywalker needs a stress reliever.

➸ Throat bulge (Clone Wars!Anakin). [SMUT] : Title.

➸ A friendly hand (Bsf!Anakin). [SMUT]. : Always happy to help.

➸ Best mommy. [SMUT. BREEDING]. : Tracking, counting and fucking.

➸ Pretty girls don't cry [SMUT. STEPCEST]. : Tears are for babies.

➸ Headboard. [SMUT]. : Grab it harder and dick her faster.

➸ Quiet [SMUT. CNC.] : Fantasies can be true, I guess.

➸ Massage. [SMUT. DUBCON]. : One thing leads to another… and Anakin knows a little trick to relax you.

➸ Next to the river. [SMUT. Nymph!Reader.] : A goddess, or that’s what he says. Humans are so funny.

— Anakin Skywalker AUs.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 masterlist! #anakin skywalker smut

[simpjaes]

dilf!jay and babysitter!reader 🫣

- 💗

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and i think about it consistently.

like, single dad jay hiring the hottest girl he can find on purpose? getting turned on by the way you clean up after your messes in the short moments he sees you? Loving the way you mother his child in a way a wife would? In the way a mother would? dilf jay, fisting his cock in the middle of the night despite him needing to be up at 6am for work, thinking about the way your shirt looked when he came in from work just the night before, soapy suds soaking through the fabric on your chest? dilf jay, wanting a completed family so bad that his thoughts are centered around you, the college girl who is just trying to make a bit of extra cash to pay for her books....what happens if he just buys those books for you on top of your pay? What happens when he buys you a new car so you can stop worrying about your old junker breaking down? what happens when he asks you to spend the weekend with him and his child on vacation?

who knows? all you know is that Jay is hot, and his child is not only manageable, but an absolute angel most days.

of course you don't think twice when the two of you are sipping wine on said vacation, and his hand strays. of course, you spread your legs for him when he slides his hand down, whispering words of "you ever thought of being a mother?" and "i would take such good care of you, baby, think about it for me, yeah?" and he did take care of you at the end of the day. with the college expenses, gas for your new car, spending money, a house stocked with food and hobbies you could pick up if you wanted to. That little babysitting job became almost a full time job outside of classes, with a boss too willing to make it worth the time. Were you a baby sitter at this point, or just a paid wife to roleplay with him? was it really even roleplaying even? When you find yourself in your dorm room wishing you were in his bed again? Wishing that you could wake up to that nice fucking kitchen, with the nice fucking big screen television, and the nice fucking cock he's always willing to get wet for you? Always sliding in nice and easy, cooing in your ear about everything you could have if you stay? is it really roleplay at this point? what's so wrong with being a wife so young anyway? After all, his kiddo already begs for you when you're not there, he's told you that much. plus, the idea of some other girl coming in and babysitting turns your stomach to knots. Jay is yours, and the darling child of his? You love them far too much to let go at this point too. You're locked in, and you don't mind it a single bit.

#hardthots #jay smut #park jongseong smut #this hit different for me #.jay

[marksmelodies]

can you write smut about jeno and fem reader being parents who finally have someone to babysit their kid so they can have alone time<3??

YESSS I LOVE DAD DREAMIES SOO MUCH THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING

“fuck babe” jeno grunts as his lips move to your neck, his teeth slightly nibbling on your skin, you reach over sliding one of your hands up and down his bulge “babe she’s going to wake up soon, we can’t” you huff pulling away from him

you and jeno have been desperate these past few weeks, having a toddler wasn’t easy, she’s a handful to say the least, you knew going into parenthood that you would have to devote all of your time to your child but you and jeno were in need of alone time, sex became less and less frequent in your relationship as your daughter got older, she was in constant need of attention from the both of you and as much as you love her you have your needs too, you needed your husband more than ever

jeno rubs his eye as he lets out a sigh in frustration “yeah you’re right” he says, a few moments later you hear your daughter screaming for her dad “she’s up” you chuckle patting his back

“hi mama” your daughter says as she currently clings to jeno while he prepares for dinner “here baby go to mommy” jeno says passing her over to you “but i want daddy” she whines as you take her into your arms “daddy has to make dinner baby, how about we watch a movie huh?” you suggest taking her to the couch as she settles down picking out what movie to watch

sitting on the couch you have a clear view of jeno, his back facing you he stands in the kitchen cutting vegetables adding them to the pan that sits on the stove, not even noticing your eyes move to his broad shoulders and then to his muscles that are slightly flexed, your eyes keep wandering his body until you realize what you are doing, the familiar feeling washes over your body, you were in fact very horny just by the sight of your husband

“mommy why are you staring at daddy like that?” your daughter looks up at you looking back and forth between you and jeno, you giggle before bringing her into your lap “because mommy thinks daddy is very handsome, mommy loves him very much” you say kissing her head “no mommy i love daddy more than you, only i can love him” she pouts and you chuckle once again “i knew him way before you existed sweetheart and without mommy loving your dad you wouldn’t be here” you say tickling her stomach “you know your dad loves you so so much, i do too, more than anything” you say to her “i love you too mommy” she cuddles to your side turning her attention back to the movie

a few moments later you hear soft snoring coming from your daughter, you immediately went to wake her up since it wasn’t her designed nap time but you stopped yourself, carefully peeling her off of you, you lay her down and make your way over to the kitchen

wrapping your arms around your husband you hug him from behind “i told you to stop wearing those god damn compression shirts jeno” you say as you move your hands over his abs “why baby” he smerks at you as you move from behind him to in front of him, “because i can never behave myself when you wear them” you say as you place your hand under his shirt, jeno quickly pulls you into a heated kiss making sure to be quiet so your daughter won’t wake up, jeno then picks you up placing you on the island counter top as his hands travel your body, your hand rakes his hair as you slightly pull on it

“would you call me crazy if i said i wanted to have another one” you whisper to jeno between kisses “not at all baby, i’ve been thinking the same thing” jeno pulls away before anything goes further, he walks over to the stove checking on the food that is cooking “you really wanna start trying for another baby?” he asks quickly looking to you “yeah i really do” you say giving him one last kiss before waking your daughter up for dinner

the sexual tension between you and jeno during dinner was almost too much to handle, if it were just the two of you jeno would have already had you bent over the table fucking you relentlessly but there sits your daughter happily eating the food that’s in front of her, as dinner comes to an end jeno starts cleaning the dishes off as you get your daughter into the bath

“princess do you want to sleep over your aunts house tonight” jeno barges into the bathroom “a sleepover” she gasps excitedly “yeah and i think grandma and grandpa will be there for a little too” jeno bends down to her level laughing at the sight of bubbles all over her “yes i want to please mommy please can i go?” your daughter begs you look at jeno rolling your eyes knowing exactly what he’s trying to do “yes you can sleepover” you say getting her out of the tub

once she’s all packed and ready to go jenos sister picks her up, saying your goodbyes the door closes and the two of you are alone at last “oh thank god, am i a bad mom for wanting a break?” you ask jeno as you rest your forehead to his chest “not at all baby, you’re the best mom ever” he kisses the top of your head, jeno then grabs your face placing his lips onto yours as he leads you to the bedroom

he places you on the bed kissing your lips as he moves down to your collar bone “you’re so pretty” he groans as he takes your shirt off along with his own, he massages your boobs placing kisses on them as he takes your pants off, “my wife is so beautiful” he looks at you before kissing your cheek, jeno moves your underwear aside as he place two of his fingers inside of you “fuck” you moan throwing your head back, he quickens up the pace as you feel the knot in your stomach releasing as you cum on his fingers, jeno takes off his pants as he lets his dick spring onto his stomach he hovers over you lining himself up to your cunt before sliding his dick into you “fuck baby you’re so tight” he shoves his head into the crook of your neck as he picks up the pace “jeno” you let out a loud scream as his hips snaps into you “i’ve needed you so bad lately” he kisses your neck before latching onto one of your boobs while massaging the other “im gonna cum” you moan as you squeeze around his cock “shit me too” he pants,jeno releases into you as you finish at the same time, he collapses onto you kissing your collarbone“god i missed that pussy” he looks to you “round two” you smirk at him “oh we’re going all night long baby, i’m gonna get you so pregnant” he replies smashing his lips onto yours

#nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct dream #nct #nct scenarios #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct jeno #nct reactions #nct suggestive #nct dream fake texts #nct dream reactions #nct dream jeno #jeno x you #jeno lee #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno imagines #lee jeno

[wynnyfryd]

the kind of charm we need

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt ‘charm’ + 548 words | rated T | pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, boys being dumb

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

“‘Not the kind of charm we need,’” Steve mutters derisively to himself for the tenth time that day as they pull up to the cemetery curb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin sighs, “your time and talents are sooo wasted on us, Steve, we get it.”

Max glares at him from the rearview like she agrees with Dustin, then shoves out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind her without a word.

Shit.

Steve watches her climb the hill, guilt rolling through his guts. Fuckin’ Nancy. There are bigger problems here.

Like, for example, the metalhead fugitive having a nervous breakdown in a boathouse.

“Oh, my god,” Lucas says from the backseat as the walkie crackles to life, Eddie’s quivering voice calling out for ‘Dustin? Anybody? Hello??’

He passes the walkie up to the front with a look like he’s debating whether or not to just smash the thing to pieces on the asphalt instead. “Can you maybe use your charm on Eddie before I murder him?”

“He’s in distress!” Dustin cries.

“He’s on my last nerve!”

“Seriously, anybody?? Please!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, give me that.” Steve yanks the walkie out of Lucas’ hand, hauls himself out of the car — leans in to tell the two shitheads to stay put and shut up before he closes the door.

He leans against the driver’s side, head throbbing, body sore. Can’t tell if he’s too young or too old for this shit. He pushes the talk button with a begrudgingly slow press.

“Steve Harrington’s babysitting and distraction service, how may I help you? Over.”

“Stevie!” Eddie whoops, sounding genuinely thrilled to hear Steve’s voice. Steve knows he’s just excited to hear anyone’s voice, but. Hm. “Goddamn am I glad to- wait, where’s Henderson? Sinclair? Are they—?”

“They’re fine,” Steve assures before the creep of hysteria he hears can fully take hold. He kicks his heel against the front tire. “They’re waiting in the car. I’ve been instructed to, like, charm you into calming down, or whatever.”

“Charm me?” Eddie’s voice lilts with interest. Steve can almost see the smile, the way he licks across his front teeth.

“Just a— well, not a joke, but, like…” Steve trails off, gives up trying to explain. Nance has this way of making comments that cling like cactus spines. “Never mind.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “Go on. I’m ready to be charmed.”

And maybe it’s the way Eddie says charmed like a snake scenting the air, or maybe it’s the stress of the day; maybe he’s finally having his own little mental breakdown as a treat, because for some insane reason he leans into whatever this is, pitches his voice all low and slippery and asks, “What are you wearing?”

Silence for a moment, and then Eddie cackles, the noise so loud it overwhelms the little speaker in the walkie, bursts of laughter breaking through the static noise. Steve finds himself laughing, too, a slow thing that builds and builds, swells inside him like blown glass until he’s warm and bright all over.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes when he finally calms. “You’re— you’re ridiculous. Shit, man, I really needed that, you have no idea.”

Steve smiles to himself. Bites the inside of his cheek. Not the kind of charm we need.

No, but someone might.

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

note: i am aware that this is canon adjacent (which is to say that i meant for it to take place in canon but i didn’t feel like rewatching the scene for total accuracy so like, canon can bite me it’s close enough)

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie fluff #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After he gives you the best time of your life, you wonder what exactly you mean to Bradley. Your heart sinks when he asks you to babysit again, and you realize you can't keep letting him do this to you. You brace yourself for another night of waiting for him to get home from a date, but you're in for a surprise when you arrive. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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Bradley realized on Thursday morning in the hangar that he had been avoiding Nat at work when she handed him a cup of coffee and said, "Oh, look, you do still exist. I've barely seen you all week. What's going on? You okay?"

"I'm fine, Nat."

"How's Noah? And how's it going with your babysitter?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him.

The look on his face must have given him away. He could feel his cheeks flushing as he struggled to meet her eyes. "Pretty great," he muttered, and Nat gasped.

"You fucked her!"

He managed to meet her eyes now. "I mean, everything but."

"Bradley! You got off with her?" Nat asked, eyes wide. "You needed it to be special. Was it special?"

He swallowed hard, his eyes closing as he thought about your mouth on him and his mouth on you. Then your face and your laughter were right there, along with your books and bags of Skittles. "Yeah, Nat. It was."

The screeching sound coming from his best friend was obnoxious, but when he reached into his pocket when his phone vibrated, he felt sick. 

"Nat. It's Meredith."

She was immediately grabbing for his phone, but he pulled it away from her. "Let me answer it. I'll set her straight," Nat snarled, instantly angry. Bradley loved Natasha Trace for so many reasons, and her protectiveness of him and Noah was just one of them. "She doesn't have the right to call you!"

Bradley ignored the call and turned his phone off. "She does this every year around Noah's birthday. I don't know if it's out of guilt or what exactly, but I should have honestly been expecting it." 

But he hadn't been expecting Noah's mom to start trying to contact him, because instead, Bradley had been completely distracted by you. When you were at his house watching Noah, that's where he wanted to be, too. And when you weren't there, he was wondering what you were doing. And when he was there with you, he couldn't keep his hands off you.

"She gave birth to Noah, and then she left. She doesn't get to keep doing this to you," Nat whispered, running her hand along his arm. "She has no guardianship rights."

"I know, Nat," Bradley replied, "but I'm always afraid she will try to petition for it."

When Nat wrapped her arms around him, Bradley let her hold him for a moment. "So what are you going to do about the babysitter?" she asked, smirking up at him.

Bradley shrugged and closed his eyes. "Keep her away from Jake, I guess."

She laughed and punched him in the middle; hugging time must be over now. "I'm serious, Bradley."

"So am I, Nat. And she's too young for me." And then when Bradley was called to his aircraft, it was with thoughts of you soaking his face while you moaned his name on his mind.

After work, when he pulled into the parking lot at Noah's daycare, he turned his phone back on. There were a number of missed calls from his ex and several texts from her as well.

Meredith: Please call me back. I just want to talk for a minute. I just need to know how Noah is doing.

He couldn't let her keep doing this. It would be too confusing for Noah as he got older and realized who she was. But instead of writing back, Bradley scrolled down to your name and tapped his screen.

He was supposed to have a date with someone named Eliza from the app on Saturday night, but what was the point? It had been less than twenty four hours since Bradley made you cum all over his face, and he was craving you in every way. He needed your fingers in his hair and your taste on his tongue as much as he needed to eat and breathe. 

Princess, can you come over on Saturday night?

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

You had been turned on since last night. Even when you left Bradley's house and got home, your skin was tingling and there was a soft buzzing in your ears. You'd been up half the night, thinking about his mouth and getting yourself worked up. 

The truth was, you wanted Bradley so much, you didn't know if you could be around him if you weren't allowed to touch him. The memory of the strands of his soft, wavy hair was still present on your fingertips as you pressed them against your own clit. You were finally caving, touching yourself now, even though you were half afraid it would override the feel of his mustache on you. 

But it didn't. Not at all. As you fingered yourself, you thought you could smell him in your bed. And when you came around your own fingers, they felt like his. You wondered if you'd ever be able to squirt like that again, because he had liked it. He had told you it was hot, said you were a Princess who should be worshipped. 

You were probably going to be horny for the rest of your life. 

But when you hadn't heard from Bradley by Thursday afternoon, you were starting to feel awkward. You had sucked his cock; he said it was the best blowjob of his life. He had eaten your pussy; it was the most intense orgasm you'd ever had. And he still paid you for babysitting. You groaned as you walked back to your car after class. Why did you let him pay you? You should have refused. 

You were looking at your phone, reading a new text from him before you could even process what was going on.

Bradley Bradshaw: Princess, can you come over on Saturday night?

Your heart felt elated. You were typing back to him, immediately agreeing. But then you almost dropped your phone down a storm drain. He probably had another date. Someone else from the app. You were going to get jealous again, and he was going to come home early again and tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. He was going to keep doing this over and over, and you were so afraid that you were going to let him. 

When Greyson called you a minute later, you answered without really looking at your phone. 

"Hey. You wanna come over?"

"Um," you mumbled. "I just got out of class, and I have a lot of homework."

"Come do your homework here," he said, and you could tell he was smiling. 

You'd been avoiding Greyson a lot lately, and you knew it was mostly because of Bradley. 

"Come on," he whined. "I'll feed you dinner."

You laughed. "What's for dinner? Hot cheetos and cheap beer?" you asked. You instantly thought about the filet mignon you'd eaten at Bradley's kitchen table last night and all of the expensive coffees he bought for you. Because as funny as it was to pick on him for supposedly flirting with the baristas, you knew he was buying them for you because you liked them.

"Maybe on Sunday, Grey," you told him and then hung up a minute later. You'd give Bradley one more chance, otherwise you needed to be done. 

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

Bradley spent most of Friday evening and Saturday morning thinking about what he should do about Meredith in between thoughts of you. He had cancelled his date with Eliza on Thursday, and now he was counting down the hours until you would be here with him and Noah. 

He wanted so badly to spend the evening here, just the three of you, but he hadn't told you about the plan ahead of time. His brain was telling him this was a mistake, but his body and heart were overruling everything he thought.

When he put Noah down for an afternoon nap and tried to figure out what to wear for the night, Meredith called him again. You, you, you. He wanted to focus on you. He ignored the call again, realizing he was going to have to deal with her eventually, or he might run the risk of her showing up here on Noah's birthday.

Frustrated, Bradley pulled on a soft tee shirt and some comfortable sweatpants. If he was going to indulge himself in his fantasy of spending an evening at home, eating popcorn with the right girl, then he was going all in. Then he pulled out another soft shirt and another pair of pants and left them on this bed along with your purple paper crown.

It was nearly dinnertime when Noah woke up, and Bradley was expecting you soon. He was so antsy, and by the time he heard your car in the driveway, he and Noah were both running for the front door to see you.

"Hi!" you said a bit breathlessly, taking in the sight before you. Bradley was clearly not dressed for a date, at least not the kind he'd been going on before. And Noah was holding up a coloring page of a princess in a castle that he and Bradley had worked on for you. "Is that for me?" you asked, eyeing both of them with a soft smile. 

"It's a princess," Noah informed you. "Daddy helped me use all the colors so she's as pretty as you."

You took the page in your hand and looked at it before bending to kiss Noah on the top of his head. Bradley's heart was pounding in his chest as you looked him up and down curiously. "You're not going out?" He thought your voice sounded hopeful, and the way you were nibbling softly on your glossy lip was enough to make his cock twitch. 

"No, Princess," he told you, and you released your lip from your teeth and licked it. God, he wanted to push you down on the couch and undress you. Taste your pretty pussy again. "I thought the three of us could have a night in."

"Oh," you whispered. You looked and sounded surprised. He should have figured you would, since he'd been seeing a multitude of women over the past few weeks, all while knowing he just wanted you. 

"Daddy said we can order a pizza," Noah said, hugging your leg and pulling you toward the kitchen. 

"Is Daddy going to make popcorn and watch a movie later, too?" you asked, grinning at Bradley. 

"That's the plan, Princess," he whispered, running his knuckles along your soft cheek while Noah led you to the kitchen table. You stopped when you saw two cups from his favorite coffee shop next to each other. When you read both of them, you laughed and picked up the one that had Princess written across it.

"This one must be yours." You picked up the cup that said peasant and handed it to Bradley as you took a sip of your vanilla latte.

"It sure is," he agreed as he drank his hazelnut coffee. "I left more pajamas out on my bed if you want to change. And I'll order whatever kind of pizza you like."

You were looking up at him in awe. He should have done this with you weeks ago. "Okay," you whispered and told him what your favorite kind of pizza was. Then he sat down to color with Noah and watched you walk out of the kitchen and head to his bedroom. He immediately thought about following you. He could push you up against his dresser, wedge his knee between your thighs and listen to you make the noises that he thought about when he touched himself while he kissed you. 

But instead he colored a knight in armor with a blue crayon and sipped his coffee. He wasn't sure what you wanted from him. He wasn't even really certain about what he wanted with you. But the more time he spent around you, it was going to become increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself. 

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

You stood next to Bradley's bed and looked at the soft Top Gun shirt and the lounge pants he had left out for you. Your crown was there too. What exactly was happening here? You felt like you had missed something. He wasn't going on a date. He was staying home all evening with you and Noah. Maybe he was feeling things ever since you and he had spent some time together on his living room couch. You definitely were. 

Without bothering to close the door, you took off your shoes and socks and stripped down to your underwear. The well worn lounge pants were way too long and needed to be rolled at the waist, but the fabric felt nice against your skin. Bradley's shirt was too big as well, so you tied the bottom of it in a little knot that showed off a bit of skin at your waist. 

You ran your fingers along the paper crown before picking it up and setting it on your head as well. Then you grabbed the yellow crown from Noah's room and took it with you.

When you were standing in the kitchen doorway and saw Bradley with Noah sitting on his thigh while they colored, you felt a little dizzy. "The knight can match the Princess," Bradley was telling his son. "And then we can color the dragon."

"An orange dragon," Noah said, locating the correct crayon. You didn't get to see them interact like this too much, since Bradley was usually leaving when you got here. But you thought you could watch this all night. 

Just as Bradley was pressing a kiss to Noah's hair, you heard his phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned, ignoring a call before looking up at you. And then his expression changed completely. His eyes were a little wide, and his lips parted as he looked at you. 

You thought you'd feel a little self conscious in his clothing, but the way he was looking at you was making you feel bold. 

"Princess," he rasped as you strolled the rest of the way into the room. The urge to sit on his other thigh and press soft kisses to his cheek and Noah's was almost overwhelming. His eyes were glued on the little spot of your skin that was on display above the lounge pants, as if he hadn't had you spread out on his couch with his face buried in your pussy a few days ago. As if he hadn't seen nearly everything before. As if you hadn't squirted on him when you came.

But his cheeks were flushed now, and you felt need thrumming through your body as your nipples tightened. When the doorbell rang, you jumped a few inches, and Bradley stood up, setting Noah down in the seat. 

"Probably the pizza," he muttered when he brushed past you, his knuckles brushing your skin. You moaned softly, and you turned to see him running his fingers through his hair as he retrieved dinner. 

You stood at the table next to Noah, and Bradley came to stand behind you, guiding a pizza box and container of salad over your head and setting them down in front of you. "Here you go, Princess," he whispered, and you felt his lips brush your ear while Noah colored. You turned your face toward him, and his lips met your cheek. You brushed your body back against him, and he grunted; you could feel his cock through his pants where it rubbed along your butt, and he was definitely a little hard.

It was all so domestic and sexy, just like the morning after you'd slept alone in Bradley's bed. He was giving you goosebumps. You swallowed hard as he backed away from you. "Wait. A salad. I feel like this is a test," you told him as he gathered some plates and utensils. 

Bradley chuckled as he opened two beers and set one next to your plate. "Go ahead," he said, nodding at the salad container. 

You tried not to smile as you added some salad to your plate and covered it in a copious amount of the salad dressing. "Thank goodness," Bradley muttered, fixing his salad up in a similar fashion as his knee bumped your thigh. 

You started cutting up a slice of pizza into smaller bites for Noah, and the way Bradley whispered, "Thank you," had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. "You always take care of us."

You looked him in the eye. "You're not paying me tonight, right?"

His eyes dipped down to your lips as he slowly shook his head. "No."

You put the plate of pizza in front of Noah and asked, "Should we make a crown for your dad, too? Look how sad he looks without one." When Bradley pouted at both of you, Noah started laughing. 

"He needs a green one," Noah informed you, and as soon as you were finished eating dinner, Noah was in Bradley's lap and you were standing behind him. You let your fingers trail through his hair while you measured his head with a piece of green construction paper. 

Bradley was leaning into your touch while Noah tried to help you. After you cut out the crown and Noah colored it, you taped it together. "Here you go, Noah. Set it on his head," you told him, and you watched him place the silly paper crown on his dad's head. It was completely crooked, and Bradley's wavy hair stuck out around it, but he looked impossibly adorable when he glanced up at you.

"Am I a prince now?" he rasped, and you wanted to kiss him. You even thought about doing it in front of Noah, but you held yourself at bay. 

"No, Daddy, I'm the prince," Noah said with a laugh grabbing him by the nose. "You're the knight."

"Ah, that makes sense," Bradley told him, kissing his plump little cheek. "Who wants to watch a movie and eat popcorn?"

"Me!" you and Noah said in unison, and you scooped him up from Bradley's lap.

"You need to get some pjs on first, like me and your dad," you told Noah. 

"Daddy doesn't have pjs on. He doesn't wear shirts at night," Noah insisted, and you turned toward Bradley and shook your head.

"By the time we meet you in the living room, you better be in dress code," you scolded him playfully, wondering if he'd take his shirt off like he had the other morning. 

Bradley just smirked at you. "Sure, Princess. Whatever you want."

You changed Noah into race car pajamas and carried him to the couch while Bradley popped a bag of popcorn, and you dug your bag of Skittles out of your tote.

"Which movie do you want?" you asked Noah as he settled onto your lap. You scrolled through his collection of animated movies, and he chose Sleeping Beauty. You had the movie queued up and ready to play when Bradley walked in shirtless with a gigantic bowl of popcorn and two steaming mugs, his crown still crooked on his head. He handed you the mug that said Getting high is part of my job and you laughed.

"Thanks," you whispered as he settled down next to you. You pushed play, and Bradley took the remote from your hand since Noah and your fresh coffee were an armful at the moment. 

"You're welcome," he replied, his warm bicep resting against your shoulder. Every time you reached into the bowl of popcorn on his lap, you glanced at his naked torso. Bradley was so pretty, you didn't think you'd ever get used to looking at him. 

You wanted to kiss him, but instead you shoved fistfuls of popcorn into your mouth. Noah was making a mess, dropping it on Bradley's lap and the floor. But you didn't seem to mind, and neither did Bradley. And the whole night felt perfect. Bradley took your empty mug from you and set it on the floor along with his and the empty popcorn bowl. 

When he settled against the back of the couch, he let his arm come to rest around your shoulders. You smirked up at him, and he smirked down at you, and then you reached for the bag of Skittles you had hidden on your other side. 

"You want some?" you asked, dangling the bag in his face. 

He leaned in closer, and you thought he was going to kiss you. "Have I earned the privilege?" he whispered. 

His voice made you feel weak, and your fingers shook a little bit as you ripped open the package. "I think so. But you only get a twenty five percent cut, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I remember," he told you, eyes half lidded as he looked at your lips when you placed a green Skittle there before biting into it. "I earned that right for kissing you so good."

You bit back a moan as Noah repositioned himself on your lap. "Yeah, Daddy," you agreed, and now Bradley was the one actually moaning. He watched your every move as you dumped out three more Skittles into your palm, took the orange one, and fed it to him. When your thumb caught on his lip, you scooted even closer to him. Then you dumped out four more and fed him one of them. "You're getting exactly one quarter of them, and not a Skittle more."

He ate every single one you placed between his lips, and finally he asked, "What if I do a really great job again? Do I have the potential to earn more?"

You almost dumped Noah on the floor by accident as you leaned in and kissed Bradley softly on his lips. When you pulled away, he chased you for another, and your lips willingly returned to his. You traded soft nudges and shared smiles, lips teasing gently as the movie played in the background. 

"Princess," Bradley whispered against your lips as his hand came up to caress your cheek. His crown slipped down his forehead and you giggled. Noah shifted on your lap and turned to face you while he yawned, and you pulled away from Bradley as his hand dropped down to his lap. 

"Are you getting sleepy?" you asked Noah softly, and he nodded. "Do you want to finish the movie?" He nodded again. "Come here, we can snuggle."

You pulled him against your chest and glanced up at Bradley before you stretched out on the couch and let your head rest on his thigh. You were sandwiched between Noah's tiny body and even breathing as he fell asleep in front of you and Bradley's solid warmth beneath your head. When he brought his fingers up to brush a pattern along your neck, you shivered and closed your eyes. You were melting against him while his big hand came to rest on your shoulder, stroking your collarbone through his soft tee shirt.

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

You were asleep in Bradley's lap with your arms wrapped around his son, and he fucking needed this. Your skin was so soft against his fingers, and your lips looked pouty in your sleep. Tonight had been perfect. Better than any other date he'd had using the app. Probably better than any other date he'd had, ever. He couldn't even really remember his first date with Meredith, and he'd had a fucking child with her. 

You moaned softly as the end credits played, and you nuzzled your cheek against his thigh. Bradley gently removed his own crown followed by yours and Noah's and set them on the end table. He didn't want to disturb you, but he needed to put Noah in his bed. So Bradley gently slid out from beneath you and eased your cheek down against the couch cushion. When he knelt in front of Noah and tried to untangle your arms, you jolted awake and pulled Noah closer to yourself, as if you were protecting him.

"Oh," you sighed, "it's just you." You looked pleased to see that Bradley was the one scooping Noah up off the couch. 

"It's just me, Princess," he promised, watching you sit up and stretch, your arms pulling his shirt higher, revealing more skin. "I'll be right back."

As gently and as quickly as he could, Bradley carried Noah to his bed and tucked him in with a kiss. He could still picture the way you had been holding him, and he couldn't get enough as he rushed back out to the living room. 

You were cleaning the mess of popcorn off the floor and picking up the Skittles wrapper when he said, "You don't have to do that."

"I don't mind." Then you turned to face him and dumped out four more pieces of candy into your palm before putting the trash in the empty popcorn bowl. 

He slowly closed the distance between the two of you, saying, "According to the rules, exactly one of those Skittles belongs to me."

You pressed your lips together, and he could tell you were trying not to laugh. When he reached for the candies in your palm, you closed your fingers around them and pulled your hand away. "Not so fast."

He crowded you in with a smirk until you were backed up against the wall. "Rules are rules, baby," he whispered. 

"And what if I give you two of them? Make it a fifty/fifty share of the final four?" you asked, looking up at him as he rested one forearm on the wall next to your head. "What would you say then?"

He grunted, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'd say you were giving me a green light, Princess." He kissed your lips softly, adding, "And I'd say I'm extra thankful I cancelled my app date to spend time with you instead. Because a girl who gives me more than my fair share of Skittles is the only one I want."

You tipped your head back against the wall. "Did you really cancel to spend the night here with me and Noah?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what her name was?"

"No."

You giggled. "It's better this way. She probably hates salad dressing." You parted his lips with your thumb and gently fed him not one but two of the Skittles before crunching the other two between your teeth and smirking at him.

"Come here, Princess," Bradley growled, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling your body against him. He inhaled your sweet wildflower scent and said, "Tell me what you want."

You dragged the tip of your tongue along Bradley's lips and whispered, "I want you, Daddy."

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Now that's more like it, Daddy! Princess wants you...will you let her have you? Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley rooster x reader

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: lying to rafe is never a good idea.

author's note: eeee! back to writing for my man <3 this can be seen as a sequel to suit the mood of my soul as it follows the plot a little bit but not really, as there's no direct mentions of pogue!reader in this! i just wanted to write a little about what rafe would be like if he find out you lied/what he would do... :) inspired by @princessbrunette for the dad/kid trope she writes about and this one!

now spinning: prisoner by the weeknd & lana

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: smut! rafe is a lil scary in this one but it's okay <3, gripping/bruising, face slapping as punishment, daddy/dad usage for rafe and reader is called kid a lot.

“So, what’d you do the other night?” Rafe asks you the question quietly, and he sounds different than usual.

You haven’t really noticed the change yet though, so you act like you always do around him—a little dumber, not as vigilant, and using your brain less overall.

That’s the best part of being with Rafe. He makes all the decisions for you, he figures out what to do and when to do it, and you really don’t have to think around him. At first you were confused, if not a little worried. Did he think you were stupid?

But then you realize this is how he is—so overpoweringly, overwhelmingly dominant that you have no choice but to succumb.

So you go on, unthinking, saying what comes to mind. 

“I was with you, Rafey, did you forget already?” It comes out with a laugh, making yourself comfortable against his chest.

He’d just come over less than an hour ago, after dinner with his family, he had said. He always spent the night after doing anything with his family, because they made him angry and you made him feel better. At least, that’s what he always said.

So it’s easy to attribute his difference in demeanor, the strangeness surrounding your normally nice boyfriend, to a bad dinner with his family. He must have been more upset than you thought.

“Hm,” he says, slowly, curtly. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Rafey, dinner and the ice cream? Remember it melted all over your hand?” Your face flushes even thinking about it—because immediately following that incident, you had licked his hands clean. 

“Yeah, I remember. You have a good memory, kid.” 

You beam at his praise for a second, leaning your head up to stare at your pretty boyfriend for a second. But he doesn’t look down at you the way he normally does. He doesn’t look at all, instead his gaze is still fixed on the television, which is still playing one of your silly rom-coms quietly in the background. 

“Rafe?” it comes out like a whisper, but he ignores you, his grip on your arm tightening while he continues to stare off, not at you.

“Try to remember something else for me, kid. Night before last, what’d you do?” 

You freeze under his touch. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes wide, lips parting. You want to speak, but nothing comes out.

Then, Rafe looks down at you. 

“Can’t remember now? Should I refresh your memory?”

You don’t need him to refresh anything. On the night before last, Sarah had asked you for help with something in the Tannyhill library. You had gone to help, because this was more than just Rafe’s sister, she was your friend too, but when you got there, you were confused. Sarah was there, but so were all the Pogues you had seen around town, seen with her before. 

They were all digging through the shelves, looking for something in the library, and Sarah called you over because everyone in the Cameron house was aware of the fact that you knew this library like the back of your hand. Months of babysitting Wheezie and not having anything to do had led to this very situation. Until you became Rafe’s, that is, because ever since then, you haven’t had to spend another moment alone. 

So then you helped them search for whatever it was they were looking for, and when your phone went off with a message from Rafe, at Sarah’s urging, you lied and said you were at home with your parents.

The Pogues found it eventually, after almost two hours of combing through shelves and trying your best to organize them the way they were. You went home, texted Rafe goodnight, and thought that was that.

It wasn’t a lie, you tried to convince yourself. It was a fib, really, because you just didn’t want him to worry even more when he had so much going on. And it’s not like you knew what Sarah was even up to, she said it was just a little project. 

You didn’t realize what kind of project until now.

“Um, Rafe-” you start, really quiet.

You falter when you get a better look at the expression on his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that look—anger, disappointment, frustration.

Your eyes get watery, immediately. It’s just a natural reaction. 

“You think some tears are gonna get you out of this?” he questions, and you feel your breathing getting heavy, your cheeks getting wet.

You shake your head quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re crying for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry-” comes out before you can stop it, and you try to use the sleeves of your hoodie—Rafe’s hoodie—to wipe the tears away, thinking it’ll be better if he can’t see them any longer, but he grabs your wrist before you can.

You’re pinned in place, his hand gripping you and holding you down, the weight of his body on yours. It’s all you can do to look up Rafe with your wide, wet eyes and hope he listens to you. 

He’s never been mad at you before, so he doesn’t know how to react. You’ve always been perfect to him, for him, and he’s never had to do anything more than take your cheeks in his hand and lock eyes to make you realize you’re doing something wrong.

He didn’t think you could be capable of doing something to hurt him, to get in the way of everything he’s planning, not when you’re so compliant and docile and perfect all the other times. 

You have a collection of pretty dresses and skirts, ranging in lengths and sizes, and you always wear the right thing. Modest, longer dresses that stop above your knee and start just under the necklace you never take off—the necklace with his initial on it—when you’re invited to dinner at Tannyhill with his family.

Shorter, small skirts when he takes you to the club or the bonfire. Short enough that people are staring, not short enough to give anyone a view of what belongs to him.

In his bedroom, it’s just his clothes—shirts to sleep in, hoodies when you’re reading a book on his bed while he finishes his game at the desk, nothing more than one of your tanks and a pair of his boxers when you’re getting antsy and horny waiting for him to get back to bed when he’s on an important phone call. 

He’s never had to tell you any of that—you just do it, you just know it. He doesn’t have to tell you to go wait on his bed for him without complaining. He doesn’t have to tell you he doesn’t like when his friends are seeing parts of you they aren’t supposed to. But most important of all, he didn’t have to tell you to stay away from those dirty Pogues and his annoying sister. You were just supposed to know.

“You’re sorry?” he questions, and you know he’s mocking you. Rafe’s gone quiet, which you’re not used to because Rafe never gets mad at you. You didn’t even think it was possible.

He lets go of your wrist, which flails next to your side. His grip is replaced quickly as he squeezes your cheeks together, fingers pressing hard against your jaw.

“You’re sorry, really, is that all? You lied to me. You think that’s okay?”

Your breathing gets hard and fast under his touch. Your eyes get watery again, trying to say something but it’s silenced between Rafe’s fingers keeping your mouth shut.

You shake your head as hard as you can. You just want to explain yourself—it seemed so harmless when you were doing it. You didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t realize what you were doing. You’d never do it again if Rafe will forgive you.

Then you get scared, eyes wide and blank while your boyfriend stares at you, looking so upset and angry you wish you could reverse time and take it all bank. You worry that he won’t forgive you, that he’ll end things and leave you alone, and the thought itself is so frightening you start sobbing and shaking.

Rafe’s hand leaves your face because he gets surprised at your reaction—he thought you’d be telling him something he really, really doesn’t want to hear, but true to your perfect form, you say exactly what he does want to hear. 

“I’m so sorry Rafe, I’m so sorry, they asked me for help but I would have never done it if-if I knew it would hurt you or make you upset, I-I didn’t know-” It all comes out in a ramble, hurt coating your words and tears streaming down in rivulets down your pretty face.

He’s worried he might have gone too far, scared you too much, but you jump back in his arms the second he’s let go of you, face pressed against his chest and his shirt getting wet. 

“I’m so sorry, please don’t break up with me, I’ll never do it again, I’ll never even talk to them again, I swear, I promise-” 

It’s instinctual, Rafe wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He wonders how he did this—changed the sweet, pretty girl he met on a trip with Wheezie to the library into the girl in his arms now—utterly dependent, crying because of him but not making a single move to defend yourself.

Instead you believe everything he says and you’re sobbing because you don’t want him to leave you. He wonders again, thinking about if he should regret what he’s done to you. 

He doesn’t.

“Shh,” he comforts, and you lean into him further. “S’okay, it’s okay.” He rubs your arms soothingly, ignoring the red down further on the limb, which is inevitably a bruise forming. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

When the words leave his mouth, you melt against his chest like butter, and he grips you tight.

“I’m sorry, kid, I am, but I have to make sure that-that, you don’t do something that could mess up everything I’m working on right now.” You mewl a noise of protest, but he quiets you down again. “Even if it’s an accident, baby, even by accident. You don’t know the things I’m trying to protect you from. I can’t let you get hurt like that, so when you lie to me about something like this, it just upsets me, because I’m working hard for you—for us, and you see that, don’t you?” 

He feels you nod your head slowly.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” and he lets out a heavy breath. You cling to his every word, wondering how you could have been so, so stupid, as to lie to your boyfriend. 

“It’s okay, kid,” his hand moves to your back, rubbing circles on the soft skin, hand tucked under his hoodie and above the waistband of his shorts that you’re wearing.

“Do you forgive me?” you ask, lifting your head a few inches to look up at Rafe, wet eyelashes floating up to reveal red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

He looks down, wondering just how much he’s messed you up.

“Of course I do.” Rafe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a sigh of relief, too soon. “But you have to promise me a couple things, hm?”

“Anything, anything-” it spills out of your mouth, like you can’t get it out fast enough, looking back up at your boyfriend with big eyes, trying to use your hands against his chest to lift yourself up. 

“Promise me you’ll never talk to those Pogues again.”

“I promise.”

“And that you’ll never, ever lie to me again.”

“I promise, Rafe.”

“Good girl.”

He does that thing again, the thing that has you melting in his hands and allowing him to call all the shots. He reaches out to take the back of your head in his hand, leaning you in for a kiss, and you let him do it, just like you let him do everything. 

Rafe kisses you hard, his tongue in your mouth and trails of spit around your lips. When he lets go, you feel him bit down on your bottom lip, and you yelp against his mouth, but it’s silenced because he pulls you into another kiss.

You’re breathless by the end of it, crawling into his lap because you don’t want it to end, craving a lot more than just a kiss and the press of his hard dick against your clothed pussy. 

When he pulls away, you make another noise of displeasure.

“Really?” he questions, and you know it can’t be good. “Do you really think you deserve this dick now? After that shit you just pulled?” He holds you in place on his lap, stopping your grinding motion with his firm hand. Your face heats up immediately, because you know that you don’t. 

“‘M’sorry, dad,” your murmur against the soft skin of his neck. “You already forgave me…”

“Not getting out of this that easily, kid,” and he pulls you by the hair, making your shoulders tense up as you moan again in discomfort. “I think you need to decide your punishment, hm? You’ll get this dick once you get punished.”

You want to scream in annoyance, because Rafe always knows what he’s doing, and right now he’s doing it on purpose. You can feel his hard-on, and if he let you do what you wanted, you’d fall apart in minutes, but he won’t, because he never does.

So you don’t say a thing, because you can’t ever be a brat to Rafe, not for anything longer than five minutes, and you crawl down, off the bed, sitting on your knees on the ground while Rafe adjusts himself to face you from the bed. He looks down at you, perfectly in place, nose still a little red from crying. 

“So, how many?” he questions, watching you stare up at him with big eyes.

“Five,” you start, until you see how Rafe’s looking at you. “T-ten, sorry, ten.” 

“Good girl,” he says, stroking the side of your face with his hand. “Five on each side, hm? That’s what you meant to say, right?”

“Yes, dad,” you murmur back, in a daze at the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your skin.

The first slap, on your right cheek, is light, lighter than you’re used to. It was barely a tap, and you think quickly, while staring at your boyfriend’s face expectantly, if not a little dumbly, that it was nice of him. The next three are harder, and the final one stings. You’re sure it’s red where his hand was, a part of you even hopes it left a mark.

“Five left,” he says quietly, maybe more to himself than to you. You nod, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, kid, you like this? I knew you would. Little freak,” Rafe breathes out. You cling to each word like it’s praise. “Ready for the other side? Yeah?” You nod again.

He’s harder on the other side, maybe because he realized you can handle it. You’ve gotten much harder slaps than these before, but Rafe forgets sometimes, so he always starts gentle. On the ninth one, your eyes get watery. On the tenth, the tears roll down again. Rafe takes his thumb and wipes it across your cheek, like it’ll soothe the sting. 

You go to unbuckle his belt immediately after, thinking you should make him feel good first, as a part of your punishment, but he stops your hands before you get far, taking you by the shoulders and lifting you up into his lap again.

“What’re you doing?” you question quietly.

“I should ask you that.”

“Y-you said I don’t deserve it yet, so I was gonna make you feel good-”

“I didn’t say that, kid,” he says, pressing his big hand against your neck. 

“Yes, you-” he looks at you sharply, and you shut up mid-sentence. 

“No, I said you’ll get it once you’ve been punished. Punishment’s over, hm?” His hand slips underneath your hoodie—his hoodie—and he starts to lift it up. Your hands go up, helping him ease it off. Once it’s discarded on the floor, you lean in for another hard kiss, hands around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Easy, easy,” he says, pulling away for a second. “Have to breathe, remember?”

You shake your head and whine, pushing your lips together again. Rafe moves you quickly, your back thudding against the bed and him hovering over you.

You scramble to get rid of your shorts—his shorts—but Rafe’s hands come up and stop yours before you can. Locking eyes with you, he takes them off himself, until you’re fully exposed and lying naked against his pillow.

Another kiss, another whine. You pull the front of Rafe’s shirt.

“Take it off, please,” you whimper, because you just want to get him naked and get on with it, but the tantalizingly slow pace he’s setting is killing you. 

“Really gonna tell me what to do right now? When I’m being so nice?” Your head shakes but you don’t know if you mean it. “Okay. If that’s how you wanna be, okay.”

He flips you over in one motion—your stomach hitting the sheets before you can process it. You don’t hear anything except the rustle of his hands on his belt, the clink of the metal falling, and a groan from Rafe.

And then you feel him—feel what you’ve been begging for this entire time, the nudge of his tip against your folds. Your whole body tenses and your walls clench in anticipation, but Rafe doesn’t move. 

“Rafe—!” the whine leaves before you can think about it. Rafe’s hand reaches out to grab you by your hair, pulling your head up, his mouth against your ear. You feel your nipples harden and pebble in the air, every part of your body craving something, some touch, some movement.

“Y’know, I thought you were gonna be such a good girl,” he starts, and you feel your walls flutter. “But you’re acting like such a slut today. But it’s okay, I’m gonna give you what you want. Then you’ll be good as gold, won’t ya?” You let a whine at the thought, before Rafe lets go and drops you back onto the bed.

In one thrust, Rafe pushes himself in, and your entire body tenses up at the feeling. The stretch of your walls hurts, no matter how used to him you get, and your bones feel like putty. You can hardly hold yourself up, when Rafe starts fucking you at the brutal pace he’s set. 

The stinging of your face disappears from your mind completely while Rafe batters your pussy, his hands on your back, pushing down while you arch up. Your cheek rustles against the pillow. Nothing comes out of your mouth except whines and moans, and the occasional cry when he goes even harder.

“Just needed this dick, huh, kid?” he chokes out, pressing your face into the pillow and watching his dick slide in and out of your pussy—coated in your cream, leaking down and making a mess of his sheets. “Ain’t that right? I asked you a question.”

He grabs your hair again, lifting you just enough so you can speak. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-”

“That’s what I thought-” and he pushes your head down again. “J’needed to be set straight, hm? You won’t ever lie to me again—” Your voice is a mess of garbles and whines, not making any sense but wanting to agree with Rafe so badly. 

Rafe’s fucking you like he hates you, and you don’t have it in you to stop and make sure he doesn’t actually hate you, because the only thing you can think about is making sure he doesn’t stop.

“Or maybe you will,” he starts, in between thrusts. “Just wanna get fucked like this, don’t you? Wasn’t enough for you to get it gentle, right, kid? You’re my little slut-” 

Rafe’s hitting that part of you that makes you see stars—unrelenting, over and over again, but it’s all of those things together—the feel of your nipples rubbing against the bed, how full you feel inside, and especially the words he’s saying—that push you over the edge. You fall apart crying, body shaking, letting out a muffled dad, dad, dad against his pillow. 

He doesn’t stop there, though, riding you through it and then pulling out, just long enough to flip you back over. 

You’re sensitive all over, your walls clenching around nothing while you stare up at Rafe, and then back down to where the two of you were connected. He grips your cheeks again, pushing himself in and staring at your fucked-out face.

He’s way too close to still be fucking you—especially raw, like this—but it’s not until you start speaking that it’s a big problem. You sound all jumbled up since he’s holding your face way too tight, and when he loosens his grip, words fall out of your mouth and he realizes what you’re saying.

“Want it inside, dad, please, please, please, fill me up—” And he finishes, leaning over you and filling your pussy up, just like you asked for. He doesn’t stop for what feels like hours but could only be minutes—you mewl at the feeling and gasp when he pulls out, cum leaking out of your hole and spoiling the sheets even further.

Rafe’s breathless, collapsing beside you and in a much better mood, because he doesn’t complain when you fall against his chest and press your face into his neck. 

He lets you sit like that for a little bit, catching your breath and letting your heart rate return to normal. 

“We made a mess,” you comment, still feeling gushes of his cum spilling out of you. 

“We’ll get it in a minute.” 

He can practically hear your thoughts, buzzing through your little head at a mile a minute, wondering what to say, how he feels, if he's still upset, probably wanting water and a shower too.

You move a little, just to get more comfortable, when Rafe grabs your face again. The side of your jaw is red from where he keeps grabbing you. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow. He doesn’t care because he’s not planning to let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

“Don’t lie to me again, kid. Got it?”

“Yes, Rafe,” you breathe out. "I got it."

“Good. Now let's finish this stupid movie." Rafe lets go of your face, and wraps his arm around you. 

#eeeee #this was.... self indulgent. so no worries if no one else likes it #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #rafe cameron imagine

[rogueddie]

Peppermint Heartache T | 734 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick

Eddie isn't sure the last time he was sick, but he's sure that it didn't feel like this.

"You sure you're ok, kid?" Wayne asks, hovering in his doorway.

"Yeah, 'm'kay," Eddie manages to mumble out. He struggles to raise an arm, giving him a weak thumbs up.

"Alright," Wayne relents, but Eddie can hear how little his attempt has done to reassure him. "I'll try to get home as early as I can. Make you some nice soup. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

After he hears the door click shut behind Wayne, he's not sure how much time passes. He stays where he is, slipping in and out of a light doze.

The light knocking at the door startles him awake, though it's soft and quiet enough that it doesn't pound in his head.

He plans on ignoring them, but they knock again after waiting for a moment.

Pulling his bed sheets around him, tucking it up to his chin, he shuffles out. He squints at the light when he cracks the door open, frowning.

"Steve?"

"Hi Ed," he says, speaking softly. He raises the tupperware he's holding. "Heard you weren't feeling well so I made you some broth."

"Wayne sent you?" Eddie asks, stepping back so Steve can come inside.

"Yeah. He's really worried about you." Steve pauses, stepping closer and pressing his hand to Eddies forehead. "Do you have any, like, medicine? Some tylenol? You're too warm."

He tries to explain where it is, but he's interrupted by a yawn. He's not sure that Steve understands him for a moment, until he's being gently herded to the bathroom.

Steve quickly closes the toilet lid so Eddie can sit, before rooting through the bathroom cabinet.

"Aha!" He says, pulling out a bottle. He shakes it, frowning when only one tablet rattles inside it. "Damn. I'll need to grab you another bottle. Hopefully this one will be enough. Should I grab you a glass of-"

"No, it's fine," Eddie mutters, grabbing the tablet and swallowing it dry.

"Gross. Anyway, how are you feeling? Do you want some food now? Or, like, Wayne said you have chicken soup if you'd prefer that- I just... broth always makes me feel better when I'm sick. Or I could-"

"Steve. All I want to do is lay back down for a while. Maybe have some company, if you're not busy. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Steve sighs, smiling sheepishly. "Should we-"

Eddie is already up, shuffling back to his bed. He flops onto it, curling onto his side. He grumbles when Steve starts to tuck in the sheets, but makes no move to stop him.

He ends up completely cocooned, the only his face sticking out.

Steve sits on the floor, back to the wall. "Do you want me to be quiet?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Love the Buckley style rambling but, um... I don't know. I don't like being alone when I feel like this."

"No, I get that. I'm happy to sit here and make sure you're ok, don't worry. I'm comfortable."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

With Steve sitting guard, it's easy to finally fall asleep. And, by the time he wakes back up, he's already starting to feel better. He feels well rested, at least.

He notices Steves absence immediately, finally crawling out his cocoon to go looking for him.

"What are you doing up?" Steve asks, when Eddie finally finds him in the kitchen. "Go, I'll be back in a moment, you need to rest."

Eddie, rolling his eyes, does what he asks. Though he does grumble complaints under his breath the whole way back.

"You couldn't wait five minutes," Steve continues, when he finally comes back to Eddies room, holding a steaming mug and bowl. "Here, I cooked your broth and made you some tea."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Wayne says hi, by the way. He's probably going to be late coming home, too, so I'm stuck here babysitting."

Eddies about to make a comment, when he finally gets a whiff of the tea. He takes a sip to confirm it.

"Is this peppermint?"

"Yeah. You said you like it."

"I didn't think you'd remember."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You can't keep doing this, Steve, I'll fall in love with you."

Steve laughs, ducking his head, cheeks flushing. When he looks up, smirking, a glint in his eyes, Eddie knows he's already doomed.

"Promise?"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

[astaroth1357]

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

#tales from the drafts #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me headcanons

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact

words: 7.6k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name

You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.

After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”

Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.

“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken���”

“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”

Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”

Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.

Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.

“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”

Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.

“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”

Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.

At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.

He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.

“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”

He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.

There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.

It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.

He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.

He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.

He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.

“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.

You looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Two things.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.

You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.

All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.

However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.

Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.

Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”

“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”

It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.

But the word he used here felt different.

It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.

“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”

He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.

But you said, “I forgive you.”

And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.

He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.

“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”

You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.

He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.

You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.

You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”

“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”

With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”

You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.

But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.

Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.

Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.

That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.

That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.

“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”

“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.

You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.

“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.

“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”

Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.

The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?

Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.

“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.

Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.

All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.

Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”

“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.

“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”

“That was me asking!”

“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”

“You said yes, though.”

You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”

“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”

You watched him, considering it.

“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”

“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”

He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”

Nevermind taking the high road.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”

“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”

You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.

“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.

“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”

You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”

“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”

Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.

“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”

Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.

Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”

Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.

“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”

Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”

Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”

“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”

“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”

A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.

But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.

It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.

During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.

After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.

He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.

It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.

But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.

Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.

Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.

It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.

You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.

Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.

Tired of finding those things inappropriate.

But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.

It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.

Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.

“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”

He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“We’re—"

“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”

You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.

“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”

“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”

Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”

“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”

In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.

Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.

You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.

You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.

Really, the situation felt different, too.

The second thing is that I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.

There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.

It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.

Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.

His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.

Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.

Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.

He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.

As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.

Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.

There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.

This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.

And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.

Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.

His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.

You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.

Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.

You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”

The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.

Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.

Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.

Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.

You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.

Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.

Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.

He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.

He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.

You were with him when he got his first tattoo.

He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.

He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.

Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.

You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for all-consuming love.

You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.

You hadn’t been there for four years.

But you were here now.

Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.

With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.

“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.

Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.

“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”

It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.

He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.

His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.

It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.

It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.

A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.

He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.

“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”

There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.

“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”

This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.

“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.

The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.

To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.

The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.

“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.

“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.

Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”

“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”

Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.

You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.

He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”

He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.

He might not last at all.

Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.

You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.

After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.

Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.

He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.

Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.

He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.

He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.

“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”

You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.

You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.

But you couldn’t focus.

His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.

He filled your head with stars.

You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.

He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.

The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too­ good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.

“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.

Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.

And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.

There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.

His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.

His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.

He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.

Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.

He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.

It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.

Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.

You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.

He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.

In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.

It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.

For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.

Suddenly, you shook your head.

“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.

“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.

Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.

“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”

You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.

He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”

You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.

He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.

He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.

“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”

Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.

“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.

“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.

You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”

He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.

“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”

Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.

His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.

He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.

This was a dream, it had to be.

And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”

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