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chososdiscordkitten · 1 month

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Bite me.

Synopsis:Choso tastes readers blood for the first time >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Pairing: Vampire!Choso x fem!reader Content: porn w/plot, established relationship, blood (duh), biting, missionary, spit stuff, blood stuff, cream pie

MDNI

The little secret Choso had was supposed to stay just that- a secret. A secret pushed to the back of his mind- too shamed and fearful of what could happen had you found out.

But there were times Choso swore you knew. When you’d carelessly brush your hair onto one side, giving his teeth full access to the tastiest part of you. Even if to the bare eye it wasn’t noticeable, he could see the thick stream of blood in your jugular pulse whenever he looked at it.

As though you were begging him to sink his teeth into your skin without words.

His suspicions only grew when you would ask questions in an insinuating tone. Why the brown of his eyes had a sprinkle of crimson in them, why at times he would show up to your apartment- his lips lightly stained in a distant red. And why he had a metallic scent to him every now and then.

And most of all- why he would look at you like you were a meal to be had.

And with the blooming relationship between you and him, you simply blamed it on something all humans feel—something a man would feel when looking at a person he had an interest in.

But to him, Choso never picked apart the reasons why he wanted to drink from you. The only way he could describe it was starvation that couldn’t be satiated even with stolen blood bags. A hunger that Choso felt rumble his very soul when he looked at you.

And he would push that feeling down- too fearful of the risk of tasting you and the inability to stop, making him wish he was never plagued with such a disease.

That hunger roused in his heart the very first time you kissed him. Along with the itching feeling of a new kind of hunger. Desperately chasing the warmth your lips pressed onto his cold skin.

That very same warmth that reminded him that you were filled with the cerise liquid he dreamt of.

You had your own suspicions. Sure, Choso was a little strange at times. Specific phrases indicating he had claimed you, at once even saying how fucking good you smelled first thing in the morning. It made you squint- and tilt your head in the slightest.

But maybe he just couldn’t formulate ‘normal compliments’ that you had heard before. Instead of strange, you saw it as endearing when he would say those kinds of things.

But when Choso spoke as though he were from another time, his brown eyes blotted with deep red spots. How his pupils would pulse when you looked a little too closely into them. He could go in the sun, but rare were the times he would.

The time you nicked yourself while mincing vegetables- he ran up to help. At first, with all the urgency of the world- grabbing your finger and scolding you for being so careless.

And holding your lightly oozing digit in his hand, he would watch the cherry blood seep from your tissue. And god- your scent stuck in his nose the longer he held you. And when the smell flooded his brain- hazing any reservations he had.

Choso lifted the tip of your finger to his lips- flashing them up at you only for you to snatch your hand away from him- muttering something about how it would get infected before wrapping it up.

How his cold hands would cling to you and feel the humanity pulse through your veins. The overwhelming urge to have you, have you moved into his place- far too precious to leave you on your own.

If he, himself- your boyfriend was having these carnal urges to do these things to you- to taste you. What would another person do to you?

And Choso, when the realization that you would be sleeping beside him- thick thighs bare and your neck exposed, along with the pulse in your wrist. In deep sleep- unaware of the starved creature lying beside you.

That’s when Choso realized just how masochistic he was being.

He loved you more than enough to endure the rowling thoughts in his mind- enough to stay awake and watch you. Even if he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it- he could hear the liters of blood pulse beneath your skin. Choso endured it as much as he could.

And with you moving in, it made it harder to hide that secret. Why there was a mini fridge with a lock on it, stuffed full of blood bags—Choso was sure you would find any day now.

So when it came to the late-night activities only done in the bedroom- as though your bare skin begged for his teeth all over your body. Choso could feel two kinds of hunger pulse beneath his skin when he first touched you.

Even more so when your bare body was pressed against his- unknowing of the torment the act inflicted onto him. The plush warmth that would surround his member, reminding him that you were filled with the tantalizing red liquid everytime he pushed himself into you.

It ate away at him. It felt like a lie- the idea that you’d look at him as a monster had he told you plagued him.

But he feared you finding the bags and seeing him as a serial killer- or a madman, and losing you before he could explain what he was.

So he sat you down- hoping you’d have an open mind when he dared say the words.

Sitting on the couch, his cold hands holding yours. You found it odd—rare were the times Choso held that much severity in his eyes when he spoke to you.

You smiled genuinely, unknowing what he had to be so serious about.

His thumbs lightly caressed the tops of your hands. “Do you remember when he watched that movie—with the strange girl and the man who played Batman?”

You squint your eyes. “Twilight?” His cold thumbs halt their caresses, looking at you seriously with a soft nod.

Choso started stuttering over his words- saying that he was like that man, but it was different. Words were spewed from his throat, throwing them at you and hoping you would understand. Confessing this greatest sin that had eaten away at him from the moment of meeting you.

You only raised your eyebrows- hearing the blathering go on and on. Only for your eyes to squint, “Are you trying to tell me you’re a….” hesitating, knowing how insane it would have sounded.

Choso only nodded, looking down at your hands with a little laugh falling from your lips. “Is this some kind of roleplay you wanted to try?” You joked, watching his face fall from its severity and mumble a small ‘no.’

“First of all- if you were, you wouldn’t be living with me. You’d be off in Rome living in a castle-” Leaning back onto the couch with an unbelieving smile. “And your teeth aren’t pointy.” you giggled, watching the man before you look at you with sorry eyes.

He parted his lips to speak- “And? I’ve literally seen you go into the sun.” pulling your hands from his and crossing them across your chest.

“I don’t know how to explain it to you—I can barely comprehend it myself,” he defended, watching your face wear an unamused look.

You pursed your lips, sarcastically saying, “Start with proof—how ’bout that?” Bored of this larping Choso decided to start.

Choso pulled his lips to the side, thinking of his least jarring approach. Proof- there was a lot of, but he tried finding the least callous one to show you.

He parted his lips, lightly bearing his top row of teeth with a little huff falling from your throat- seeing the unsharpened canines look back at you.

Choso thought back to you- closing his eyes and recalling your blood’s metallic scent when he almost lost himself in it. He could hear your steady heartbeat quicken when the pearly canines grew slightly- pointed downwards with a sharp end.

You scoffed- refusing to believe his attempts at a joke. And as though he could hear your thoughts- claims that this had to be some parlor trick. He reached from your hand, placing it onto his chin and urging you to touch.

Gulping lightly when his voice rumbled from his throat, “Touch them- they’re real.”

And as your thumb lightly grazed his bottom lip, you leaned in closer with squinted eyes. Lightly pressing the pad of your thumb against the pointy tooth, unknowing how hard Choso’s heart was beating in that moment.

You slid your thumb down the tooth, pressing up into the pointed edge with a wince. Pulling away, you looked at the little prick on your thumb.

You parted your lips to speak, only for Choso to beat you to it. “And-” he muttered, placing his hands on the side of your head and pulling you close to him- looking into your eyes. Far too close and watching the little pupils dilate- the color around them slightly swirling with splotches of red.

Choso pressed his lips against yours- knowing he had drunk earlier. Pulling away from you and watching your smug expression fade- “Taste it-” he muttered, pressing his lips onto yours again.

And as you allowed his tongue to press against yours- you could taste what he was referring to. The light flavor of metal mixed with his spit. Pulling away from you and holding your head with urge- “Do you taste it?” he muttered, his lips lightly brushing against yours with every word.

Too in awe and bordering on fear- you only looked into his eyes with a hint of suspicion.

Standing up and taking your hand- guiding you to that little locked mini fridge and yanking off the lock. Too much urgency and frustration to go find the key.

He showed you another form of proof he was, as he claimed—his strength. Sure, you knew he was strong—able to manhandle you with ease, leaving light bruises on your skin whenever he would get too rough, able to bring in all the groceries in one trip. You blamed it on his physique, knowing he was beautifully sculpted beneath his loose-fitting clothing.

But this—pulling a metal lock from a metal hinge without any resistance or even a grunt of struggle leaving his lips. Made you wonder just how strong he was—and how much he was holding back before now.

All of that was proof enough- but the sight of neatly stacked blood bags confirmed it. You stood there for a second- looking at the crimson bags of plastic and feeling Choso’s gaze on your skin. Suddenly, too aware of how vulturous it felt. Before, it felt admiration-filled. It felt like a gaze full of love.

But now it felt like he was looking at you with appetite.

Your heartbeat beating quickly made Choso realize you took this seriously now. You looked over at him- face deadpan with your eyes hinting to fear. “You don’t- eat people, right?” you muttered, a scared tone infiltrating his ears.

Choso looked down to the ground, “Not currently, no.” he confessed, hearing your hand lightly close the little door of the minifridge and gulp.

“Are you gonna eat me?” you asked, causing his eyes to flash back up to you in fear.

He knit his eyebrows and took your hands in his again, “I would never eat you.” he vowed, looking into your eyes.

“Have you thought about it?” you murmured, watching his eyebrows pinch in shame.

“it’s hard not to,” he confessed, watching your head lightly nod.

And with a light inhale- you walked back onto the couch, watching him sit on the other end as you stared at him. A million questions whirring in your mind as he shifted in your gaze. Wishing he could hear what you were thinking.

Somehow, still trying to justify the proof you asked for; just more larping, he’s a weirdo- or a psychopath. But that softness in his eyes- gave you a reason to try and ignore the proof.

You stared at him for a few minutes, trying to find the words to say- or an excuse to leave the apartment and run.

And when you were finally able to conjure the words, “Can I ask questions?” you peered, your face stoic and unshowing how hard your heart was beating. Choso nodded his head ‘yes’- knowing the truth of what he just confessed must feel like a lie.

In a world of fictional demons and countless books written with blood sucking people- it was fair that you had your suspicions.

Choso knew—he watched those very movies with you, holding back comments like ‘that’s not true’ whenever an incorrect fact was spoken in the films.

Even if you held a deadpan expression, your heartbeat gave away how you truly felt, “For how long have you been,” stopping your sentence short and thinking on what word to use.

“Since the 1870’s.” he spoke honestly.

You peeked your eyebrows- mentally doing the math and taking a long blink. “That would make you-”

“175 years old.”

You lightly grimaced, thinking back on every time he would say some timely word you had only heard in the black-and-white movies you’d watch with him. “Why are you here—with me?” you reiterated, watching his avoidant eyes look down at his hands.

“I mean, it must be torture,” you muttered, thinking of the difficulty shown in every movie with this exact plot line.

Choso looked up at you. “At times, it can be.” He lightly nodded, being able to hear your heartbeat slow in the slightest. “But I know I would never hurt you.”

After a handful more questions; if he preferred a specific kind of blood, what kind of people tasted better. Your heartbeat fell back into its normal state.

There was an adjustment period- asking if you could sleep on the couch rather than next to him. Not scared- but nervous to sleep next to him. And Choso being the man he was- he took that responsibility and slept on the couch for as long as you asked.

But then came the moment of acceptance- and Choso swore you started doing these things on purpose. Pulling your hair back and giving him a complete view of your neck. As controlled as his bloodlust was- it was still obscene how thirsty he got looking at you. And something carnal threatened to control his actions rather than his head.

And times when he would hug you- getting a nose full of that sweet scent that seeped from your skin. Or when you started sleeping in tank tops- exposing more of your skin to him as you slept. Helpless and too tired to notice his heavy gaze on your collarbones.

It also didn’t help when you realized that Choso was turned when he was a few years older than you— it hit you like a truck.

Fearing to get older than the age he was when he was turned. Then came the talk of if he would turn you.

When Choso thought about it- he wasn’t like any other protagonist in any vampire media. Choso was selfish and afraid of the day when you’d die- leaving him to roam the earth alone again.

“It isn’t as simple as just turning you,” he muttered, knowing what it meant when someone like him turned their partner. That’s the only part the stupid films got correct.

Sat on the kitchen counter and watching him patter through the kitchen- cooking you a meal as you pestered him with the same question. “You mean the whole- once I turn, we’re supposed to stay together forever?” you asked, unamused with the doubt he held.

“That- and technically, you’d be soulless,” he muttered as you let out a small laugh.

“Of all people- you are the last one I would describe as soulless, Choso.”

You scoffed, pulling your hair to the side and watching his shoulders tense up. Slightly tilting your neck and looking at him- “Is it not tempting?” You whispered in a taunt, watching his eyes flash to the smooth skin you displayed for him.

Thinking the way it worked was the same as the Twilight movies- one bite and you’d be turned, right?

Only your offerings meant nothing but a way of tasting you. Choso knew you wouldn’t become as he was from one bite. But christ- it was tempting.

It made his brain throb in his skull, being able to hear every little pulse your neck pumped with crimson. “It doesn’t work like that.” he muttered, stepping away from the stove and taking a step towards you.

“Still, you never wanted to taste it-” his hips easing between your thighs, placing his cold hands against the sides of your thighs. “You never wanted to taste me?” you whispered, his eyes blinking down to the exposed skin of your neck and gulping.

Choso’s hands gripped lightly at your thighs, almost bracing for what he was about to say- “I don’t want to hurt you.” he breathed, his eyes dark and full of want.

“You can control yourself, right?” you whispered, his head nodding softly. “Think about it- once I turn, you’ll never be able to taste me.” tone full of feigned pity, knowing he would turn you- even if he hadn’t said it yet.

Choso’s lips parted slightly and his mouth went dry. The thought pained his heart- knowing you had a point. “‘Lemme think about it.” he muttered, kissing your cheek quickly before turning back to the pan on the stove.

You sighed a drawn-out breath, “Dunno how you do it,” you muttered, watching his shoulders fall from tension. “If you were begging me to bite you- to taste you.” you exhaled sharply, “I wouldn’t have made you ask twice.”

And he did think about it- weighing out the options in his brain. How bad it would actually be if he tasted you- ’cause that’s all you offered. Just a taste, but with how sweet you smelled- Choso wasn’t sure that 'ust a taste' would be enough for him.

That paired with the pain you would feel, two sharp teeth sinking into your skin- Choso had no idea why you would keep offering. Why you kept provoking him to hurt you.

So one late night, your hands drawing searing touches onto Choso’s skin with your lips softly peppering kisses onto his cheek.

Most of the time, it was you who would instigate these activities. Too afraid to hurt you had Choso not kept his hands to himself.

However, this was the first time you instigated these acts after he confessed his secret to you. And still- Choso tried keeping his hands to himself, even if your own were daring to slip past the band of his sweats.

Topless and on your back, legs spread with his hips daring to rut into your clothed core. You raised a hand beneath the hem of his t-shirt, lightly grazing his back with your nails and kissing his ear lightly.

“Touch me-” you whispered into his ear, intent and urge soaking your words as his hands roam up your thighs.

A soft whimper left his lips at your words- his mind reeling at the fact that you were aware of the kind of monster he was, and you still wanted his touch.

His lips lightly pressed kisses onto your jugular- holding all the restraint he could as he felt the pulse of life beneath your skin. Your hands tugging at the fabric on his back in desperation- his hips responding by bucking into the clothing separating him from your warmth.

Taking a hand from your hip and placing it onto the band of your bottoms- sinking his fingers beneath the layers and to your soaked cunt. Showing him just how negligent he had been since he confessed to you.

A light whimper left your lips as he pulled his own from your neck, too tempted by the vulnerability to keep himself there.

The tips of his middle and ring fingers sink down to the source of your slick- lightly circling at your entrance and coating them before trailing them to the puffy bud atop.

Placing your lips on his again- desperate to relieve the ache between your legs as your tongue swirled against his. The distant taste of metal in his mouth as your eyebrows knitted together. His eager fingers started small circles against you, his hips mindlessly bucking into the air between you as your moans rumbled onto his lips.

It was agonizing the pace Choso tried keeping- your walls so desperate to pull him between them and feel him thrust.

The light touch his fingers kept only made your hips buck into his hand- gasping between every other kiss at the pressure. The grip his other hand held on your side- bordering on bruising from how frustrated he was starting to feel.

Beneath the layers of fabric- throbbing tears soiling his bottoms with every light roll his hips made to relieve the yearning his cock felt.

You tried holding out- suffered sighs of frustrations leaving your lips as his hand continued its snail pace.

But the ache you felt- Choso’s fingers only taunted it. So as you pulled away from him- looking into the mix of brown and red eyes staring back at you, “Need you inside-” you murmured with need, your words filling the air between your lips and his as your hands pushed down the band of his sweats.

The tips of your fingers pressing against the side of his thigh- almost as a plea.

And as you asked of him, Choso clashed his lips back to yours as he removed his hand from your bottoms- his hands full of desire as they pulled your pj bottoms off. Far too eager and desperate to grant your wish with the sweet scent of your skin filling the air- muddying his mind as your hands assisted in removing his bottoms.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt with his chest heaving- watching his hands remove the useless fabric and toss it aside. A small groan of appeasement left your lips as you got an eyeful of his sculpted torso.

Wasting no time in placing your hands on his hips, guiding him to ease himself back where he was before. Choso’s cockhead bordered on turning a violent shade of red as his hands found their place on your hips.

Your hand reaching for is base- urging him to sink into you as you had asked. Choso’s mind was hazy, unable to think as he looked down to the millimeters of space separating his cock from your entrance.

Your bare skin secreting the aroma the cause of the misty state his brain was in. Feeling the light pang of his canines that threatened to grow- a telltale sign he wanted to feed.

His hips followed the guidance your hand led him to, sucking air sharply through his teeth as your warmth surrounded the tip of his aching cock. The alarming rate of your heartbeat causes his eyes to blink back at you.

Wearing a desperate expression and a trembling lip- your mouth whispering muddy words in a silent plea.

And as your hand eased off his cock- Choso’s hips moved forwards, nuzzling his tip further into you as he closed his lips. Avoiding your gaze with his eyes shut tight- trying to hold back every urge that pulsed in his head.

His hips started slow strokes, easing himself out of you with a sigh of desperation. And your cunt tried with all its might to suck him back in, and Choso- not knowing how much longer he could keep his urges at bay, was so fucking close to rutting into you again- quicker and without hesitation.

Your hands clawed at his biceps, drawing him from the focus he tried holding. Soft moans escaped your plush lips when the tip of his cockhead nudged against the most sensitive spot inside of you.

Choso raised his head to face you- his mouth parted and his eyebrows pinched tightly. Your eyes caught onto the glistening peaks of white that Choso’s lips tried hiding, eyes full of hunger and thirst.

His hand rose from your hip and landed on your neck, feeling the warmth course beneath his grasp. Some way of bracing himself as he fought off the impulse.

Your hand trailed up his shoulder, landing on his nape and lightly pulling his ear to your lips. With a tone that sounded like the very gates of heaven to his ears, “Bite me.” you whispered, your hand guiding his head down to your neck where his lips previously kissed.

Choso’s mind was too foggy to even focus on his past reservations. The hand at his back clawing gently, your cunt surrounding his cock, the light hold your hand held on his scalp; made Choso yield the very last of his will over to you.

Closing his eyes as his nose engulfed the scent of your skin, his hips losing pattern in the slow strokes he held. Parting his lips and placing a wet kiss onto the place his teeth ached for.

The light moans leaving your lips were heard as an urgency to his ears, bearing his teeth and lightly grazing the sharp canines against your skin. A shiver settling in your spine at the feather-like scratch.

Choso’s teeth sinking into your skin with a wince mixed with a gasp falling from your lips. The groan Choso rumbled against the punctures made your hand lightly pull on his hair, tucking your lip between your teeth at the sting, losing the feeling of it as it mixed with the pleasure from his cock.

Choso almost came when your taste waved into his mouth. His thrusts sloppy as the saccharine taste of you trickled down his throat- warm, unlike the countless blood bags he had sustained himself on. And sweet- so fucking sweet.

Eyes closed and bordering on rolling to the back of his head with his hips quickening.

Then the reminder of, ‘just a taste’ rumbled in his mind. Unsheathing his sharp teeth from your skin and opening his eyes. Looking back to you- small trickles of blood on his lip with a look of fear in his eyes. His breathing labored and trying to hold back the throaty whines that dared leave his lips.

You moaned lightly- pulling his lips back to yours and tasting yourself on him. Uncaring of the strong taste of metal, you slathered your tongue against his, sloppy and inconsistent. Mostly sharp teeth clashing against your own as your essence laced his spit.

Your hold on his hair strengthened, a mess forming between your lips and his. Your eyes squinting tightly as his thrusts became rougher, the warmth in your tummy pooling at the action.

The hand on the opposite side of your neck lightly squeezed in desperation, your orgasm building as his tip bullied your gspot. Pulling away from him in a hymn-like moan, unable to keep the attempts of a kiss with every strong thrust he made.

Choso’s eyes blinked at your lips, lightly glazed in your essence with a small smudge at the corner of your mouth. He couldn’t help the mumbled words of, ‘M’sorry-’ that left his throat, connecting his lips with yours again and feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around him.

His eyes rolling back with the evident taste on your tongue. Thrusts sloppy and fast- pounding into you as your hands tugged at whatever they could find. Clawing at the broad of his back, and grasping a handful of brown hair in the other.

Soft whines lacing your exhales as you come undone, a low guttural moan separating your lips from his. Choso’s teeth clenched at the sudden vice-like grasp your cunt held around him.

The hand on your hip held a mean grip as he worked himself to orgasm. His chest caving against yours with every sharp exhale he made.

Your hand trailed from his hair and down to his jaw, placing your thumb on his lower cheek and curling your fingers beneath his chin. Angling his face for you to see, his scarlet-tinted lips trembling, his dark hairline dampened with a light veil of sweat, your low eyes watched with soft grunts leaving your lips.

Choso parted his eyes as he felt the grip you held his lower face with, watching an expression of desire form on your face as he felt the wave of his orgasm crash through him with a low grunt.

Thick and heavy pumps of his essence filled you, watching his peaked eyebrows wiggle with the slowing thrusts his hips made.

Huffing heavily as he nuzzled his cock further into you- as deep as he could. Lowering his forehead to yours and batting his eyes closed, pressing down a lazy kiss to your plush lips.

Steadying his breathing as your hands eased their grip. Lifting himself slightly, blinking his eyes open in a hazy afterglow- darting his eyes to the holes he punched into your skin.

Regret filling his stomach as he lightly tilts your head to the side, to give him a better view of the wounds. Mentally scolding himself for losing control and doing as you asked, even if the light trickling of your blood enticed him for more- the love he felt in his heart overrode his primal urges.

Easing himself out of you with a wince, sitting on his knees as you followed him. Pulling a sheet from the side of the bed over your bare body.

Sitting up and feeling his hand hold your neck in a curve, you grinned, peering into his worried expression. "It's okay." you declared.

You reached up to his hand, holding it in yours and looking at him straight on. “I liked it.” you whispered, watching his eyes blink in confusion. The corners of his mouth stained with your blood, parting his lips as you lightly caressed his cold hand.

Furrowing his eyebrows in disappointment in himself, “I can't-” Choso whispered, bordering on a whimper.

Just seeing the scabbing wounds was more painful to him than to you.

Knowing he was the one that did it- hurt just as much. And yet you asked for more. Continuously offering yourself as his own personal blood bag- warmed to the perfect temperature and laced with the sweetest flavor that he had ever tasted.

And he tried—Choso tried with everything in him not to let your words convince him otherwise. But the taste of you couldn’t be washed out from his tongue—not even with a hundred bags of cold blood from strangers.

So convinced that it was only because it came from someone he loved- that he found such addiction in it. That and how you would allow him to drink the liquid from your skin knowing it would satiate his hunger.

And everytime you would offer your body to him- he would always look at your eyes, asking for your sanction.

Even if the hunger pulsed in his stomach, that’s what he would wait for- the clear permission he was allowed to sink himself into you again.

(a.n) how I only used the word 'vampire' once? I have no idea.

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fifthnailinstevesbat · 9 days

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after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

#just been having steddie post season 4 thoughts #been missing the era of the fandom just sort of starting during that time between vol 1 and 2 #how every fic had their own little way of resolving the upside down/vecna problem just written into afew small paragraphs #really just getting to know these characters as a pairing #most importantly before seeing them as a couple #seeing them as friends #how they would genuinely interact and get along #what their dynamics would look like #steddie early days truly have my whole entire heart #coming onto tumblr the weeks following vol1 of s4 was magical #anywho yeah non vol2 compliant steddie for you #more so just #eddie didn’t die steddie for you #they become friends bc truly i actually believe that had he lived they would have #it just makes sense #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #robin buckley #dustin henderson #also lmk if i should keep adding to this…might abyways bc i’m enjoying this #steddie fic #steddie fic idea #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction

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pix3lplays · 3 months

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@sailorstar9 who hit me with “ex-husband Aventurine trying to woo you back from Ratio” because yes

And @fire-lizard-ro because they put up with me talking about this all the time lol-

Cw! Ex-husband Aventurine, you have kids with him, I’m thinking two, you’re divorced for a reason, Aventurine is petty and wants you back, reader is with Ratio now, also neither of these men are great partners so…toxic family environments and such, sharing a bed

-Ex-husband Aventurine stuff because ugh I’m obsessed-

Does Veritas Ratio treat you much better than Aventurine did? Not really, but he was definitely preferable to your ex.

At least Veritas didn’t have a chronic gambling problem or ignores the kids or spends long nights away from home doing who KNOWS what.

At first Aventurine acts like he doesn’t care at all that you’ve finally had enough and had to divorce him. Your loss in his eyes. He’ll live without you.

But if it doesn’t bother him that much you do wonder why he goes to such lengths to show off his new partners to you. And it always seems to be someone new each month. Unsurprisingly. Makes sense that you were the only person who could put up with him long enough to marry him.

But when he finds out you’ve found a new boyfriend…and it’s VERITAS RATIO?? The jealousy is THERE, and honestly you can see it written all over Aventurine, regardless of how he acts around you.

So now you’re living at Veritas Ratio’s nice place, with your kids from your marriage to Aventurine. You like Veritas. They’re not his kids, but he takes an interest in their education and helping them be the best versions of themselves. He helps them with their homework, without just giving them the answers…yeah he’s not affectionate with your kids, they’re not his, but he doesn’t ignore them like Aventurine used to.

It’s ALWAYS awkward when Aventurine stops by to pick up or see his kids. He always brings presents, always does what he can to make it look like he’s suddenly an amazing and attentive dad, but you know he’s only doing it to try and impress and win you back.

Without shame too-he flirts with you RIGHT in front of Veritas. But Veritas has heard your stories about Aventurine. He’s not worried about you going back to him.

Veritas will just listen to the flirting, maybe step in with a little, “isn’t it about time you leave?” if Aventurine is going too far.

The tension between your ex and your boyfriend is INTENSE.

And by that I mean Aventurine feels very threatened by Veritas, and Veritas doesn’t feel threatened by Aventurine at all. It’s kind of like a one sided rivalry.

Also Aventurine absolutely does that thing where he conveniently leaves his sunglasses at your place so he has an excuse to come back, but you’ve learned to foil him by letting Veritas give him the sunglasses back at the door-just imagine how disappointed Aventurine is when it’s Veritas answering the door instead of you haha…

He calls you in the evening under the guise of “oh don’t you want to say goodnight to the kids?” but he ALWAYS tries to keep you on the phone after that. Just hang up on him. If it was up to Veritas you would just block his number but he understands that’s not practical.

Aventurine would try to use the kids to win you back but to be honest?? They don’t miss him that much. Honestly they prefer Veritas as their new ‘dad’. (Plus they’re gonna wish Veritas was actually their dad when they start getting bullied for being part Sigonian. Just sayin-)

Aventurine is jealous jealous JEALOUS he hates the thought of Veritas even touching you let alone the fact that you share a bed with that man…it drives him CRAZY. He’s not married to you he has No claim over you so he has no business being so jealous but he is anyways…

Eventually he’s not even subtle about how badly he wants you back. Just blatantly inviting you to dinner or over to wherever the heck he’s staying at the moment or to the casino to help you de-stress from all that time spent around Ratio-surely being around Ratio THAT much isn’t good for your health~

Of course you’re not falling for that. You’re not letting Aventurine back into your life more than you have to.

You really don’t want Veritas to feel like he has to get involved, but he has his pride. He can only handle Aventurine blatantly flirting with his partner for so long.

So far you’ve avoided a confrontation but Aventurine needs to start treading lightly if he doesn’t want a Codex to his face haha…

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Dr Ratio #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader #Hsr Dr Ratio x reader #Dr Ratio x reader #Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Dr Ratio x reader

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matrixbearer2024 · 3 months

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Blips In My Routine

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: A slight interlude in the "Get Off My Screen!" Series to keep you guys entertained while I write it's continuation. I apologize that it's taking so long! School's kind of been kicking my ass recently and I've had to focus more on work than my fanfics. Don't worry though, I'll still be writing more Vox content(Lord knows we don't have enough /j) as long as you guys want to see it!

A/N: I love 🥭 Anon's idea and tbh I don't put it beyond Vox to do it either, I'm not sure if this is as good as the other installments but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Btw, reader is in college so she's somewhere in her mid to late twenties. Happy reading!

You glanced at the ticking clock above the whiteboard.

It was just five more minutes before the bell would ring and free you from this boring lecture.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your gaze wandered back to the teacher's PowerPoint.

You hated this subject the most, not even because of the topic itself.

Rather, the professor could be kind of an old-timey asshole.

Thankfully though, it wasn't all that bad.

Not when you had to deal with an equally irritating digital companion anyhow.

Somehow you'd rather take Vox's bullshit over your professor's-

Speaking of, you both had fallen into a somewhat odd routine in the following months.

From greeting each other when you woke up or went to sleep-

To checking up on the other every so often within the day.

Not to mention spilling gossip when anything remotely interesting happened.

Either on his end or yours.

Like that time you saw someone's skirt snag in their locker door and just rip.

You could only snicker at their panic and shame.

The bitch highkey deserved it anyway.

Vox couldn't stop laughing when you eagerly told him all about it.

He knew you could be vicious if you wanted to.

Even if he was aware how much more inherently kind you were compared to the likes of him.

Sometimes the fact you found his companionship worth maintaining-

Or at least tolerable enough to keep-

Genuinely surprised the tech overlord.

Especially because you'd both been communicating for a little over a year by now.

It was nice interacting with someone else that weren't Velvette or Valentino.

Not that he'd ever openly admit to it.

It wasn't like Vox hadn't seen or heard you either, despite the fact he couldn't directly mess with the microphone or camera on your devices.

Your photos and files had more than enough stuff.

You often left him imagining your reactions and voice whenever the both of you chatted.

After all, most of your interactions were practically texting.

Sometimes you even wondered if Vox was constantly bored to end up finding companionship with you.

Or maybe he was lonely, who knows.

You genuinely couldn't be fucked.

He was an interesting guy and that was all that kind of mattered to you at the moment.

Your notepad window popping up snapped you out of that train of thought.

Glancing over at your laptop screen, the small desktop pet Vox gave you merely sat in the corner pointing at the notepad.

Oh it could do angry emotes too-

A slurry of words started pouring into the blank open text window, you figured Vox was probably having another shitty day.

Geez, who would've thought that hell would actually be absolutely crappy?

Well, let's see what he's complaining about this time...

This man was really typing way faster than you could read-

You were able to garner pretty quick what he was bitching about though.

Even if you kind of found the source of his irritation quite childish and kinda stupid.

"It's so dumb! The fact I can only talk to you with this goddamn thing is driving me insane!"

"Aaaand? What's wrong with the notepad? You also have the desktop companion."

You definitely started calling it that only because Vox was getting pissy that you were referring to it as a 'pet'-

"It can only do so much dollface, it's just glorified texting at this point. Besides, the tiny version of me is just an animated emoji keyboard."

"Well you already mess with my software regardless of what I tell you, what's stopping the great 'Technology Overlord' from hacking my camera and microphone?"

"Haha, very funny doll. Don't you think I would've done it already if I could?"

At this point you kinda just wanted to laugh at the whole situation.

Vox, a demon, one who could control electronics to his every whim-

Or so he claims.

Was being pissy about not being able to talk to you properly.

You couldn't tell if that was supposed to be endearing or hilarious.

He always got worked up over the smallest inconveniences.

You saw it as him being just very observant-

But it could also highkey be from his captain control freak tendencies.

"Then just make an app or something, you'll figure it out. Mess with the software settings or whatever."

That was the last message you wrote before the school bell suddenly rang out loud and clear.

You didn't even read his reply before shutting your laptop down and arranging your belongings.

Soon enough, you were the first one out of the classroom and more than ready to go home.

Vox knew you'd shut down your laptop after he got hit with his custom Voxtech screensaver.

Similarly to the wallpaper, he'd changed your screensaver to something more on brand.

While he did take your suggestion into account, a part of him wondered why he didn't bother trying in the first place.

But given the issues with him trying to access the built-in camera and microphone-

Vox felt a little concerned that modifying your devices too much could corrupt them.

That alongside all of your files and the data you had stored.

Wait...

Concern?!

He didn't actually care about your shit did he?

Oh fuck it!

He'll do whatever he wants to!

He was still careful not to really change much, he knows how annoying file corruption is and he didn't want to actually damage your data in case it had stuff you needed.

You weren't surprised that he'd taken your words literally-

You noticed a peculiar looking app appeared on all of your devices when you had arrived home.

That's a really fancy looking V design, was this Vox's doing?

Upon opening the app, you were greeted to a slightly odd looking interface.

It looked kind of like a more... sci-fi-esque styled chat room?

You wanted to say it lowkey looked like an Omegle room-

Before you could really nitpick at the design though, a text notification popped up on your phone.

You had just set everything up too, it seems like it came from the new app.

"Testing, testing. Are you getting this (Y/N)?"

To say you were amazed at what Vox had done was an understatement.

He was able to do so much in just so little time-

Just- how???

Oh, right- you should probably reply to that-

"Yeah yeah, I gotchu."

"Fucking finally! Working around your firewalls and antivirus was an absolute nightmare!"

Aaaaaaaand here came the usual ranting and bitching-

You just threw your phone on the bed and left to take a shower and freshen up while he kept at it.

Vox was actually quite proud he got the app to work.

Especially without affecting the existing system on your computer much.

If anything, it wasn't any different from the games or social media applications that already existed on your computer.

Granted, when he first booted the app to try it- the darn thing kept crashing and glitching.

But that was easily and swiftly dealt with.

Well, after much frustration and screaming but yes- taken care of.

By the time you came back, you saw an animated version of your wallpaper appear windowed in the app.

Right... that was supposed to be his face.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

What-

What the fucking FUCK-

Apparently, the thing you thought that was just a gif or an emoticon was actually a livestream of Vox's face.

And that was how he sounded like?

Okay that seemed pretty on brand for a telecasting television now that you think about it-

But how the hell did he manage to do this-

"Vox?! What the hell!"

You yelled out in retaliation, only growing more confused when Vox didn't reply or just kept repeating if you could hear him.

So he couldn't hear you, but he found a way to sort of project himself into your device.

What kind of upside-down thing is this?

Picking up the phone, you quickly used the chat-box to reply.

"I can hear you, but I don't think you can hear me?"

Vox just audibly cursed from what you could guess was frustration, staying silent and presumably typing out a reply.

Just how long had he been trying to fix this problem?

"I can't access your cameras or microphone whatever I do dollface, this was my last resort."

Seeing his live reactions allowed you to notice the genuine frustration and exasperation he had with the situation.

It kind of made you feel a little guilty for just brushing him off all the time now.

You always thought it was quite... old-timey for Vox to want to talk to you face to face.

Hold a "proper" conversation as he put it.

But maybe that was just because he grew that fond of your company.

Geez, what a sap.

"It's fine dude, I'm glad you made a specially designated space for our conversations though. My notes were starting to get cluttered with our conversations stuck in there with my school stuff anyway."

You could swear the small smile you saw on his face made saying all that worth it.

There really wasn't any reason for you two to switch mediums, but the new app wasn't unwelcome.

You were really starting to care more about this dumb TV head.

As you and Vox went back into comfortable regular conversation, you found solace as both you and your companion once again fell back into the odd routine you grew used to.

Come morning however, you were seriously reconsidering giving Vox the idea about making that custom application.

It was a stupidly large can of worms that you didn't even realize existed-

Notification after notification, you wondered just how much time the technology demon had on his hands to constantly bother you.

"Vox, I know you're happy about your app but can you stop spam sending me memes for five seconds?"

"Eh, not feeling it."

"Go to hell you dumb picturebox."

"Already here dollface, already here."

You facepalmed.

What an idiot.

Well, he was your idiot.

A/N: I'm leaning towards this being more than a just friends thing, dunno if I'll make it romantic or not in the continuation but I'd reckon that Vox and reader would get pretty close by now sooooo hahaha have fun y'all :D

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #x reader #Get Off My Screen Series

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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

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𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man. Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy. That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband. First of all, he was quite a bit older than you. Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father. Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist. Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that. It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents. He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again. And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing. He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure. It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents. He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler. A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager. He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though. You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you. And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured. “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised. “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you. That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed. “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home. Your new home. “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded. “Of course. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything. “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him. “I don’t expect anything from you now. Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?”

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them. “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress. Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him. Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs. Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right? It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that. Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it. He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself. One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak. “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath. You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him. Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again. “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus. That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before. But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that. “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening. I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart. But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you. It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything. He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you. It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped. You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately. And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really. You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern. His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment. Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed. You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening. Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room. A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed. You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen. You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly. With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw. You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way. Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before. And you were his, truly. You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up. It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball. Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear. And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage. This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day. It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night. But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part. Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element. Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you. You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming. His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest. His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible. You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here. He was so… masculine. His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you. You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you. His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours. This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours. And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach. You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear. “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck. “I know,” you replied. “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find. His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered. “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted. “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs. He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up. Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers. Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away. “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed. “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded. He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly. And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here. I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders. So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating. “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs. There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly. Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked. Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex. Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good? Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction. Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch. How could he do that to you so easily? “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath. “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this. Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it. “You have so much to learn. I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued. “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself. He pressed harder and your whole body jumped. “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer. “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again. Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time. If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours. What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised. “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed. “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound. “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then. He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit. You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted. He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more. It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed. “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch. I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully. You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly. He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly. “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly. You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw. Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts. You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch. You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response. “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words. “Is it true you’re really my wife? This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly. “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again. “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper. And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it. You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural. You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something. Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good. Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect. Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine. “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say? ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become. You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered. You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly. “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response. “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you. “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him. “See? Just let me take control, my love. I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard. You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature. Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again. It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before. Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something? You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it. I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive. “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking. He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised. “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation. “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh. “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation. I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical. Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time. There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”. “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained. “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy. And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend. The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child. You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted. Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you. “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes. This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this? Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him. Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs. Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt. He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight. “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted. Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way. “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you. He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself. Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel. You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded. “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling. It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place. If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier? There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now. “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you. “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin. “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive. Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued. The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered. “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure. His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body. Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body. Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way. The highest, the heaviest, the most whole. You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more. Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss. You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly. “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least. You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips. Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present. You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten. You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to. What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you. Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared. It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking. You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him. Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit. It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly. And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last. Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him. “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you. Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop. I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh.

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin. “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted. “Your pleasure is what I desire. And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even. “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured. “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too. It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it. You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded. “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours. Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged. “I want it inside, Laszlo. I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence. He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself. Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference. His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected. He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back. “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could. But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back. It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you. It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him. You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges. The whole world seemed a bit softer, really. “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply. “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach. “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant. “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed. “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you. But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally. I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind. Unladylike. Animalistic. Desperate. Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered. But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it. Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now. “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment. His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant. “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler smut

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mjbarrosart · 7 months

Text

I did a little fanart of all the Fontaine characters.

I am enjoining a lot this new region in Genshin. Sumeru was fine, but was not my cup of tea. Decadent French degenerates?? that is right on my alley!

Also the music of Fontaine RULES!

I'll share my opinions about every character, so...

SPOILERS FOR 4.1

_______________________________________

Charlotte: A missed opportunity to do something amazing with her as a journalist. She could be a character that makes interesting commentary about Fontaine injustices, but nah, she is just chasing "a big headline", zero interest for the truth.

Freminet: He is cute. I like him.

Lynette: I love her. I wish the game put her more in the spotlight, right now just feels like a prop for Lyney and that is a shame.

Lyney: He is fine. His outfit always makes me laugh.

Furina: My baby girl, the bane of my existence, my favorite Archon ever. We don't accept Furina slander in this household. I see her as an overwhelmed person who needs to put this all this show in order to keep feeding the Oratrice, while everyone is just taking her as incompetent without knowing what kind of sacrifices she is doing, idk, she is a really interesting Archon to me. I love the idea of her being cursed, and her interactions with Arlecchino made me really sad, I feel bad for her, she is not having a good time...I hope her story don't disappoint me, hahaha.

Neuvilette: Old man, autistic coded dragon for the win, I really like him. He is also a little of a drama queen with all this "I don't belong here" stuff while outside literally 90% of Fontaine is a member of the "we love Neuvillette fan club"

Wriothesley: He is fine. I like his interactions with Neuvilette and him as Clorinde's friend. My problem with him is this thing that Genshin likes to do of "is not the system that is bad just you need to be sure to have good people on the top" kind of discourse that is really bad. So him as a cop/jail administrator kinda is another missed opportunity to make a little more commentary, but maybe I'm asking for too much.

Sigewinne: I really like her after the Archon quest. Haha, you can not trust her. Lol.

Navia: I love this woman with all my heart. She is the best, smart, badass and beautiful. Also incredibly gay for Clorinde, I love their drama. I want more Navia content now!

Clorinde: I am a sword lesbian, so she is right on my alley. I like her serious but not stoic attitude, and how she turns into a wet cat in front of Navia, lol. I want to learn more about her. She is cool.

#genshin impact #fontaine #furina #neuvillette #clorinde #navia #lyney #lynette #freminet #charlotte #wriothesley #sigewinne #mjbarros #fanart #genshin spoilers #I always find typos after I post my stuff argh!#Excuse my dyslexic not English native speaker person ><

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mtchacffinz · 11 months

Text

to be loved for you

prompt!!! Dan Heng never dealt with jealousy. He learns bitterly that sometimes, he can't deal with it rationally!

content!!! SFW, gn! reader, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, clingy! Dan Heng

note!!! I love him too much. So far, all he's been getting from me is fluff 💔 frankly, i cant muster any freaky-freaky stuff with this man 🤔 got anything? my asks are open 🩷

To be someone who relied on relations by circumstance, you would always cherish each and every one of those who cross your path. May they be old and wise, or young and restless— Greeting them with the brightest smile, they'd always find themselves enamoured by your energy. Maybe this is why you attract so many people? Dan Heng was aware of that. He never spoke up about it, though. After all, he was one of the many who was caught bulls eye with each strum of his heart.

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

i went a little overboard sorry! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠) edited it a lil bit

#dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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chiriwritesstuff · 3 months

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The Girl in IT - 6. The Adults are Talking

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: Sugar finds her voice amongst the people who want to see her fail.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Breeding kink, Sugar's parents are the worst and treat her like garbage, Sugar finally finds her voice and stands up to her father, Some angst, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: And here we go, the chapter where Sugar and Joel finally face off with her parents. This does edge onto angst, as I really wanted to showcase just how Sugar's upbringing really affected her mental health, and how she overcomes it. I cried writing this chapter, because I know how it feels to have people in your life just waiting for you to fuck up, and it's something Sugar has had to deal with all of her life. Honestly, this chapter makes me nervous because I know you all are expecting all of the fluff and smut that Joel and Sugar should be having, but I promise this will probably be the only chapter with heavy stuff. It'll be smooth sailing after this!

"So, I heard an interesting rumor floating around the club lately."

"Good morning to you too, Mother," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Who's the poor unfortunate soul this time?"

There's a brief pause before your mom responds, her voice almost hesitant. "Well, darling, you know I usually don't pay attention to the ladies and their gossip, but-"

"Just tell me already, Mom!" you exclaim, turning into the office parking lot.

"Well," she starts, "I heard that Joel Miller has gotten himself a... what do you call them? A Sugar Baby? Marcia told me that Lenore from Neiman Marcus said they had-" she clears her throat, "sex," she whispers, "in the dressing room! How scandalous! I heard she's a pretty little young thing! I swear, if that was my daughter, I would die of embarrassment!"

You slam on the brakes suddenly, your eyes widening in shock. Someone honks behind you in response, but you can't pay it any mind. The blood rushes to your ears as you start to hyperventilate.

"Sugar? Are you there? Is it true? Have you noticed anything at work lately?" you hear your mother from across the line. "Hello?!"

You take a deep breath, pulling into the nearest empty stall. "I'm here, Mom," you say shakily, cutting the ignition and resting your head on the steering wheel.

"Well, it's shameful, that sort of behavior," your mom continues, "It's a good thing your father and I raised you right!" she tsks, and you imagine her shaking her head in disgust as she inspects her nails. "Besides, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to you, baby."

That's what gets your attention. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, baby. That kind of behavior isn't something I would associate with you," she coos, "besides, the girl they said Joel was with was really pretty-"

"Are you implying that I'm not attractive enough for someone like Joel?" you ask incredulously, your hands gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. "What if that girl in the rumor was me, Mom? What then? Would you actually die from embarrassment?"

"... but it wasn't you, Sugar. I raised you better than that, no matter how pretty you could be. I mean, if you just weren't so plain, maybe I would believe that it was you that was in that dressing room with him, but those kinds of girls, baby, that ain't you-"

"Mom," you sigh, feeling the impending headache that usually accompanies conversations with her, "I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" your mom sputters, "Don't forget about the dinner tonight!"

"What dinner?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot!" your mother exclaims, a hint of outrage in her voice. "It's our Ruby wedding anniversary! I sent you an invite. How could you forget? Your father is looking forward to seeing you. Now that you have your big girl job and live on your own, acting like we don't exist. You would think after paying for your education, you would be more grateful-"

"Fine, Mom, I'll be there! What time is it?" you cut her off, the tears already forming at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to be subjected to another one of her guilt trips, fully aware that she'll win, every time. "And I assume it'll be cocktail attire?"

"Oh, yes," your mother purrs, "At 6. I'll make sure the caterers add a place setting for you. Do you need to borrow anything of mine to wear? I'm not sure if you were able to shed those ten pounds I've been telling you to lose. I don't know if anything I have would fit those hips of yours-"

"Two."

"What was that, darling?" you take note of the hesitation in your mother's voice.

"Tell the caterers to put two more settings at the table, Mom."

"Why?" your mother asks, clearly in shock. "Sugar, are you seeing someone? Who is it? Is it someone we know?"

"I guess you'll have to wait to find out," you say, a hint of satisfaction in your tone. "See you at 6!" you say hurriedly, hanging up before she could pry further.

"Fuck." You mutter, slamming your head against the steering wheel once more. "Fuck my life."

Groaning, you snatch up your phone and purse, slamming the door of your Tesla as you stride into the office. With a determined look etched on your face, you attempt to breeze past Connie, resolute in avoiding another interrogation as you navigate down the hall.

"Good morning, Sugar!" she chirps. "So, about yesterday-"

"Not now, Connie!" you mutter, briskly pushing past her, laser-focused on reaching Joel's office. He's already at his desk, his gaze intensely fixed on his iPad, an apple pencil dangling from his mouth as he reviews schematics. You slam his office door behind you, his eyes darting toward you as you drop your purse on the floor. You discard your blazer, shove his office chair back, and settle onto his lap. Burying your face into his neck, the tears you've been holding back start to flow earnestly from your eyes.

Joel's arms instinctively wrap around you, drawing you close as he gently pulls back to get a good look at your face. "Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks, his face etched with genuine concern. "Did Connie corner you in the lounge again? I swear Tess gave her the warning of a lifetime yesterday-"

"Are you busy tonight?" you cut him off, gasping for air, the weight of anxiety from your mother's conversation finally sinking in. "I know this is really last minute, but my mother-"

"Baby," Joel repeats, his hands firm on your arms, steadying you. "Breathe. What happened?"

"They know, everyone in Austin knows about us," you admit with a sniffle. "My mother called, mentioning that her friends at the club were gossiping about you having a sugar baby, and I completely forgot it's my parents' wedding anniversary tonight. I might have told her to add another place setting for you..." you stammer, "... and now I have nothing to wear. I can't borrow anything from her because I didn't lose the ten pounds she asked me to"

"Easy, Sugar," Joel murmurs, his lips grazing your forehead as his hands trace up your arms, providing a soothing touch. "Start from the top," he suggests, leaning back in his chair and gently pulling you against his chest, his fingers rhythmically rubbing your back. "You spoke to your mother today, and she mentioned a rumor going around about us, right?"

"Lenore might have let slip to one of her clients about our... moment in the dressing room," you confess against his chest.

You feel him sigh deeply, the gentle rumble of his chest against your face. "If they only knew that wasn't the case," he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. "You know that, right? You're everything to me, baby. You ain't no sugar baby, not to me."

"I know, Joel," you reply with a tiny sob. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less, though. It's like they want to see us fail, see me fail."

Joel pulls you away again, a serious look in his eyes. "Are you ashamed of this? of us? Do you see yourself as how they see you? Do you think I care what those old bitches say about me?"

You shake your head frantically. "No, Joel-"

"No one gave a damn about my life before all of this," he gestures toward his office, taking your hand in his, "and now that I finally have some worth in their eyes, it's like... I'm cattle being led to slaughter. I'll never get used to it."

"I grew up surrounded by that shit my entire life," you whisper sadly. "Every move I made was up for debate – what clothes I wore, who I decided to bring into my life. It was always dissected and analyzed as if everything I did could have a double meaning. I hated it, this constant scrutiny. I always had to be 'good,' never step out of line, and always know my place."

"Is that why you always felt the need to hide yourself all the time?"

"It's what made things easier, honestly." You fiddle with the button of his flannel. "I hated the attention, I hated that my mother would go into my closet every day and make sure I wore certain things that wouldn't embarrass her, that she would only feed me rabbit food so I wouldn't 'let myself go'. She came from nothing, you know? She was my father's secretary, getting swept away with his money and his connections. She was in my place, once. You would think that she would show me mercy." You laugh to yourself, bitterly. "I was always an embarrassment in my parent's eyes, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not driven enough. I worked my ass off, and they still treat me like they did when I was a kid. "

"Yet, here we are," Joel murmurs, a gentle understanding in his eyes as he reaches to caress your cheek. "You've overcome so much, and you're not defined by their standards. You're your own person, and you've earned your worth on your own terms."

You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his hand. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees past all that, someone who appreciates me for who I am. Crazy family and all."

Joel smiles tenderly. "Well, you have, and I see a remarkable person in front of me. The past is just that – the past. We're building our own story now, and you're not defined by anyone else's expectations."

You smile sadly at Joel. "I hate thinking about this, about my parents. It always puts me in a terrible mood. Can we talk about something else, please?"

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Joel breathes, "Do you want me to help you forget?" He helps you onto your feet, leaning your body against the edge of his desk. He pushes the hem of your dress up your thighs, the edge of your stockings being held by a garter exposed as your breath hitches on your throat. "Fucking exquisite," he says, his lips kissing your thigh. "What do you need?" he repeats, almost begging.

"I need you to fuck the pain away, Joel," you whisper, spreading your legs further. "Help me forget, please," you beg, your back arching as his hands travel up beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers make their way up to your core, and his fingertips graze the gusset of your thong, adding pressure as he traces along your slit through the wet fabric. Your legs start to shake as his finger slips beneath the fabric, the edge of his fingertips probing at your entrance. Joel hums in satisfaction. He slowly inches his fingers into you. "Do you think you can come, just like this?"

"Yes," you moan, hitching your leg higher as you place your foot on his desk chair. He slides his fingers into you, the squelch of your wetness echoing throughout his office walls as he prods into you, his eyes dark as he watches his fingers being swallowed whole in your pussy. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Should we check something off from my list?" he asks, moving his fingers away from your pussy as you whine from the loss of sensation, putting the glistening digits into his mouth, savoring your taste.

You nod eagerly. "Yes, Joel. Please-"

"Turn around for me, Sugar," he softly commands. "... and grab onto something." You oblige, slowly turning so you are facing his desk, his hands pushing your back so your chest is resting on its surface. Your hands grab onto the edge of it, pushing your ass higher as he lifts the hem of your dress, exposing your ass. You swear you can imagine his smirk as his hands travel up the globes of your asscheeks, his grasp harsh, squeezing the plumpness of it. He grips your thighs and spreads them wider, lifting your ass to be level with his cock. He starts to grind into your core, your body trembling in his wake.

He hooks his fingers through the elastic edge of your panties, ripping it off your hips. You turn your head to face him, watching as he pockets the scrap of lace into his back pocket. "You won't be needing this," he whispers, and you watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing it down along with his boxer briefs, his cock swollen and leaking at the tip. You gasp at the sight, rolling your bottom lip against your teeth. He rubs his erection through your folds, notching the tip of your entrance. "I'm gonna need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, Sugar?"

He slides in before you can reply, and your voice gets caught in your throat, the feeling of him inside of you so delicious you moan out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you slowly, deeply. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good, so fucking tight!" he harshly grabs onto your hips as he begins to cant his hips against yours, the angle he set hitting you just right. The entire desk starts to shake as he pounds into you, and you have half of a mind to say something, but Joel continues his pace, his head thrown back, eyes closed. Thank god for the carpet, you think to yourself.

He gathers your hair, pulling your body towards his as he continues to thrust harshly into you. "You're so good like this, baby. So fucking good for me, right Sugar?" he rips your dress from the front, the buttons flying throughout his office, pulling your breasts from the cups of your bra. He's pumping into you relentlessly, his mouth latching onto your neck. He grabs your breasts, kneading and squeezing. "One of these days you'll let me fuck these," he breathes in your ear.

"Joel, my dress!" you exclaim. "I can't walk around the office with my tits out!"

"We're going shopping after this, baby, don't you worry. You can wear the shirt off my back for all I care, gonna have to teach Lenore a lesson for having a big fucking mouth-"

"Can we not talk about another woman when you're balls deep inside of me?" you whine, meeting his thrusts as you pull on his shirt, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible, not wanting the entire office to hear Joel railing you into oblivion. "Fuck Joel, can you fuck me harder?"

Joel halts, pressing his cock deep inside, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. He reaches behind him, rolling his desk chair towards him to sit as he pulls you onto his lap, impaling you. "You're gonna have to be real quiet for me, okay baby?" he whispers against your throat. "We shouldn't be doing this, but I can't fucking get enough of you. Want to claim you on every fucking inch of this office, do you want that, baby? for me to fuck you on every single surface of this office?"

"Yes!" you scream, hopping on Joel's cock as he thrusts up into you, the position allowing you to feel all of him. "Fuck Joel, I feel so fucking full, how are you this massive? Fuck-"

"I'm going to fill you up, make you take all of my cum, make you mine completely. Remember when I sang you that song all those years ago? I looked into your eyes and swore I saw my future children in your eyes, fuck, It's all I've thought about," he groans, and it stirs something deep inside of you, the thought of your children, with Joel's brown eyes and smile, running around in the house, laughing, playing, living a life you were denied as a child. "Are you going to be the mother of my children?"

"Yes! Yes, fucking fill me up, make me yours, I can take it, I can take it! Fuck a baby into me, baby, I'll be so good, so so good-"

Joel's hand goes to your clit, his fingers rough against the nub, rubbing it furiously as you chase your release. "Then fucking come for me, Sugar," he commands. Come for me on my cock and I'll give you the entire fucking world-" He covers your mouth with his hands, his thrusts slow and deep as you fall apart completely. He braces your hands on the edge of the desk as he kicks his chair backward, pounding into you as he chases his release, his face in your neck as he sucks on your pulse point. "You think it'll take this time? You gonna give me baby?"

"Yes! Fill me up, I want all of it!"

Joel groans at that, thrusting into you once more as he falls apart, coming into you deep. You feel his cum fill you so much to the point that it starts to leak out of you. Joel keeps himself inside, panting heavily against your neck. "Fuck baby, I love you so fucking much." He kisses your cheek, pulling himself out of you slowly as he slumps onto his chair once more, his head thrown back in exhaustion. He unbuttons his flannel, throwing it towards you. "Put this on," he says, shrugging his jacket on as you straighten yourself. You raise your eyebrows at him as you button on his shirt, drowning in it. Joel gives you a wry smile. "Cancel all of your appointments, we're going shopping."

"Oh yeah? Just drop work, just like that?"

"Yeah," he replies nonchalantly. "I think it's time we visit our good friend Lenore. Have a little chat."

"Are you ready?" you nervously ask Joel as the two of you stand at the front door. "We can always turn around, say that I'm sick or something-" You fiddle with the hem of your dress, straightening yourself. "Don't you think this dress is a little much?" you ask absentmindedly.

"I think the real question is if you're ready, baby," he replies, a small reassuring smile on his face. "I've been telling you that I've been wanting to scream from the rooftops, yelling that you're mine-"

"I am yours like you are mine." You smile, placing your hands on his chest as you pull him towards you, his lips meeting yours. "I've never been so sure in my life, Joel. I think it's time we stop fucking around, right?"

"I've been yours since the first day I saw you, I was a goner-" he leans in for another kiss as you greedily accept, kissing him deeper, and deeper, and his hands travel lower, and lower, and your hands travel higher, and higher, until they reach the hair at the nape of his neck, and you're pulling, pulling, pulling, getting lost in his embrace. How can something that feels so good and so pure be so terrible to those around you?

"Sugar?!" Your mother's surprised voice slices through the air like a warning shot, abruptly shattering the enchantment between you and Joel. "Mr. Miller?!?" Her exclamation hangs in the tense moment, her gaping mouth and contorted expression revealing a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Mom, I-" you stammer, clearly struggling for words.

"Ma'am," Joel interjects, cutting through the tension. He gracefully presents her with the bouquet that rests on the bench, the vivid orange lilies contrasting against the soft pink of the Rhododendrons he had chosen at the florist. "How do you say 'Fuck you, I've won?'" he whispers with a smirk to the florist while sliding his black Amex across the counter. The resulting display is a beautiful arrangement, yet it carries an unmistakably direct message – as if declaring, "I love and desire your daughter, but I loathe you, so stand the hell back." Joel continues, "It's been a long time; I see the roof is holding up nicely-"

"Yes, well," your mother chokes, hastily grabbing the bouquet from his outstretched hand. "These are beautiful, Mr. Miller-"

"Come on, we're past pleasantries. Call me Joel," he smirks. "Happy anniversary, by the way... and thanks for the invite. Sugar said you guys were talking about me earlier today, so she thought she could surprise you by bringing me along with her."

"Joel. Right," your mother mutters to herself. "I was just asking how she was getting along working with you since she's been so busy, she barely comes around now!" She clears her throat, straightening herself, and glances at you, her eyes darting to the tightness of your dress. "Sugar, baby, what a... beautiful dress you have there. Are you not cold with how short it is?"

Joel squeezes your hand in his, giving you a wink. "Doesn't she look stunning in Herve Leger? Lenore has a great eye, right?"

Your mother fidgets nervously, chuckling to herself. "Lenore at Neiman Marcus? Yes, yes, well... she certainly knows how to flatter the female figure. I wasn't aware you were a client of hers-"

"Well, I had to introduce her to Sugar, you know, considering she always takes good care of me and my girls," he muses, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. You could swear you see your mother gulp at the gesture, her gaze dropping to her nails as she struggles to formulate a response.

"Well, what are we doing out here? Come in, come in!" she says suddenly as if her role as a doting, perfect entertaining housewife finally reboots in her brain. "Sugar's father will be surprised to see you after all these years, you made quite a name for yourself with your multi-million business-"

"Yeah, we did okay, I expect that this government job that we're bidding on might just push us over a billion next year if all goes well." He smiles widely, putting his arm around your shoulder. "Shall we, Sugar?"

You nod aimlessly, letting Joel gently guide you towards the dining room, the laughter of your parents' friends echoing through the foyer. Your body starts to shake slightly, the nervousness of facing your father gradually taking over.

"Stop shaking, baby. I'm right here, alright? I ain't gonna leave your side for a second, okay?" Joel whispers suddenly in your ear, pressing a reassuring kiss to your hair. You nod once more, tightening your grasp on Joel's hand, finding comfort in his presence.

"Everyone, you remember my daughter, Sugar?" your mother announces abruptly as you enter the dining room, her gaze immediately meeting your father's as she holds up the bouquet. "Joel bought us a lovely arrangement. I'm just going to find a vase. Why don't you sit by your father, baby?" A wave of judgmental eyes from your parents' friends descends upon both of you, and you can't ignore the audible gasps of shock that fill the suddenly quiet room.

"Joel Miller," your dad suddenly remarks, his eyes narrowing at your clasped hands. "Now, that's a face I didn't expect to see again." His gaze lingers on yours, a subtle twitch in his eye revealing his displeasure as he presses his lips together. "Sugar, care to explain why your boss is gracing us with his presence tonight?"

"Uh-" you stammer, closing your eyes briefly. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Joel."

The sound of glass breaks in the distance, your mother's surprised gasp shortly following, as if she was hovering past the kitchen in an attempt to eavesdrop on the inevitable showdown between your Father and Joel. You see your mother's maid run towards the door, excusing herself as she attempts to help your mother. You see your mother's friend from the club whispering to the man beside her, shaking her head as she links two and two together, a knowing smirk on the man's face as he looks at the both of you.

"I see," your father responds, adjusting his collar to maintain composure. "Well, what's keeping you both standing there? Take a seat!" he commands, a forced smile directed at his friends. Joel moves to the chair beside your father, a playful raise of his eyebrows as he settles in, and you follow suit in the adjacent seat.

"Sir," Joel murmurs, his hand extended for a shake. Your father eyes the offered hand, clearing his throat before accepting it, engaging in a handshake with Joel. "It's been what, ten years?"

"Has it truly been that long? I recall warning you to steer clear of my daughter even then," he retorts wryly, sipping his drink leisurely.

"Honey," your mom interjects shakily, taking her seat beside you, opposite your father. "Our guests might prefer not to dwell on the past-"

"Dad, stop." You say softly, your head cast down. The emotions that you are going through are reminiscent of the emotions you felt when you were a kid, and you find yourself anxiously fiddling with your hands under the table, your bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please stop."

"What was that?" your dad asks menacingly, setting his fork down harshly. "If you have something to say, you might as well look at me! How did I end up with such a weak-minded naive little girl who opens her legs at the first rich old man she can find-"

"That's enough." Joel cuts in suddenly, his fists clenched together tightly, his knuckles white.

As you glance at your mother from the corner of your eyes, you notice a slight tremor at the edge of her mouth. It's at that moment that you realize you share a vulnerable connection with her. Your mother looks just as horrified as you feel, her hands shaking while your father continues his tirade. The tears start to well up at the corners of your eyes, making your vision blurry. It's a tough moment, and you can't help but see a reflection of your own emotions in your mother's eyes.

"Tell me Miller, how long did you wait to seduce my daughter after you hired her at your firm?"

"Honey-" your mother interjects, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. "We have guests-"

"Or how long did you take until you seduced poor Mr. Miller here?" your Father spits, shaking his head in disbelief, his gaze going to your mother's shaking form. "What can I say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

"THATS ENOUGH!" you suddenly scream, slamming your fists on the table. You wipe the tears from your eyes, not caring about the mess it'll make at the makeup that the woman at the Laura Mercier counter meticulously placed upon your face earlier when Joel took you on an impromptu shopping trip for your cocktail dress. "Just stop it, STOP IT!"

Your father rises from his seat, his eyes drunkenly narrowed at you as he points at Joel. "You know, when they were talking about the little slut that was fucking Joel Miller at some dressing room who looked a lot like my daughter, I thought to myself, 'No, it couldn't be my little girl, she should know better', but then I see you in front of me, wearing that," he motions to your dress, "Maybe I misjudged my daughter after all. Congratulations, I guess, you managed to sleep your way to the top, just like your mother-"

"I said THATS ENOUGH!" you scream, rising from your seat, meeting your father's gaze.

"Baby," your mother calls out in near tears. "Just let it go, you know how your father gets when he's drunk-"

But it's like you can't hear her.

"So it's okay for you, a rich man in a powerful position to 'seduce' a young woman, make her your wife, and force her into a life where she plays the doting perfect housewife, never allowed to pursue her dreams, always under your thumb? Is it okay for you to think so poorly of your child, your flesh and blood because I decided to fall in love with someone you don't approve of?" you're full-on crying now, not caring that you have an audience, tired of being that scared little girl who never spoke up, never had a voice of her own.

"I did everything right. I wore the clothes you wanted, stayed away from any scandal, followed the rules, and earned an advanced degree at a decent school—all on my own merit. Only to be reduced to being seen as your 'little girl', unable to stand on my own two feet? Is it so bad that finally, I found someone patient enough to wait for me? Do you have any idea how long I've loved Joel? Only for you to tear us apart? Joel Miller is not like you, Father. He's built himself up from the bottom, proving himself to everyone who doubted him. He works tirelessly, supports his family and friends, and is the best boss anyone could ask for. And most importantly, he loves me, never gave up on me, and worked hard to prove himself. But here's the truth—I would have loved him even without all of this," you motion to the opulent interior, "richer or poorer. He never had to prove himself to me. I love him, and that's all that matters."

You glance down at Joel, who's clearly in shock by your confession. His mouth is agape, but there's awe in his eyes, and you know he's proud of you for standing your ground and finally finding your voice. He clears his throat, taking a sip of wine. "Thank you, baby," he whispers. You nod, wiping away the last of your tears.

Surveying the now silent room, your mother's eyes downcast, and your father staring into the distance from his seat, you offer a smile. "I apologize for the outburst, but I believe Joel and I have overstayed our welcome. I'm sorry for disrupting your dinner, Mom and Dad, but I don't think I belong here anymore." You raise your hand to Joel, who is already two steps behind you, and he rises from his seat, taking your hand in his. "I won't be part of a family that doesn't accept me any longer. Let's go, Joel."

"Sugar, baby, please-" you can hear your mom call out behind you as you lead Joel away from the dining room, determined to get the hell out of there. You hear your father telling your mother to sit down, to just let it go.

"What are we gonna do now, baby?" Joel asks, engulfing you in a hug, and kissing the top of your head as you stand in the foyer.

There's a glint in your eyes as you take his face in your hands, meeting his lips in a kiss.

"Do you want to dish out some sweet fucking revenge?" you ask, your hands traveling down to his bulge in his slacks. "Give my poor father one last parting gift?"

His eyebrows raise in curiosity, groaning as you grab onto his cock harshly. "What did you have in mind, baby?"

"Follow me," you whisper, looking around to make sure no one is around, grabbing his hands as you lead him up the stairs, stopping at the door of your father's study. "Shall we?" you ask, opening the door. Joel nods eagerly, a small smirk on his face as he follows you into the room, closing the door behind him. You start to strip out of your dress, pushing the fabric slowly as Joel watches from behind. You push the fabric off your hips, sliding it from the slopes of your ass until the dress falls onto the ground, only leaving you in the black lace thong you asked Lenore to get you, a surprise for Joel. Joel groans in satisfaction as you lean against your father's desk, a wicked smile on your face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you breathe, "Are you going to fuck me on my father's desk or not?"

Joel smiles, unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you would never fucking ask, baby."

Taglist:@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa, @laurrrra, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @missladym1981 (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

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bbunivxrse · 4 months

Text

❥ HATED HIM - SATORU GOJO

pairing: - gojo x f!reader contents: you hate gojo, but even so, youre forced to go on a mission with him, which ends badly. for you, anyway. - no warnings js fluff at the end but a bit ooc?? i think??? word count: 1.9k a/n: hi!! ik im late but happy new years!! i wanted to post earlier but i have no idea what to write :sob: if u have any requests pls send i need ideas

you’ve always hated Satoru Gojo. the day you met him you knew you’d never want to be around him. his persistent grossly inflated ego and cocky attitude always had your gears grinding. the way he seemed to somehow develop a crush on you despite you never saying a single kind or loving word to him is beyond you. he has no shame in trying to flirt with the girl that not only has no interest in him, but also openly hates him. no matter how many people are around he’ll always go out of his way to bother you. everytime you hear him speak you think about how fucking lucky he is to be the strongest, if he wasn’t you would’ve taken care of him and his attitude already.

you weren’t shy to make this opinion known, even straight to his face. all your classmates seemed to understand and even agree, everyone except for gojo of course, who always persisted that he is the ‘best person ever’ and that ‘nobody can hate him’. your friend utahime seemed to really enjoy listening to your long, harsh rants about him, reminding you that your not alone in your detest for gojo.

Today you had what seemed to be a start to a good morning, until you were informed you had a mission to attend to the very next day. that news alone obviously wasn’t enough to ruin your mood, you had missions all the time, it was normal. this mission however was not only a special grade curse, but it was also assigned to just you and gojo.

“man, that sucks..” shoko sighs, patting your shoulder. after explaining and ranting about your situation you felt a bit better, but still didn’t change the fact that you’d be out overnight, possibly for two nights, alone on a mission with gojo. you groan in frustration just at the thought. “don’t you ever think you’re being a bit hard on him, y/n?” his best friend piped up. he just happened to be passing by and eavesdropping on your conversation. “well of course you’d defend him.” you roll your eyes as suguru laughs.

to be completely fair, maybe you were a bit harsh when it came to gojo. but that didn’t matter to you when all he does is put his face in your business 24/7, attempting to flirt while simultaneously pushing your buttons whenever he gets the chance and only laying off when you get annoyed enough to actually scare him away. “i wouldn’t have to hate him so much if he wasn’t so annoying.” you shrug, feeling completely justified in every word you’ve said. suguru nods understandingly as he considers your words. he does know that gojo can most certainly be a handful.

the day of the mission arrives and you’re up early, getting ready and packing your bag to set out on the mission. with your extra time you decide to keep yourself calm by reading a book you’ve had on your to-read list for waaayyy too long. it was nice until you realized gojo was late, then you were back in your grumpy mood waiting on him. “hi y/n!! are you ready for our honeymoon together??” gojo waves enthusiastically, his loud voice was already starting to irritate you, along with him unapologetically showing up an hour after the established meeting time. “you’re late.”

“i had stuff to do.” gojo frowned, but you know all too well he had absolutely nothing to do. the day is gonna be too long to keep arguing with him, so you decide to be the bigger person for once and begin to make your way to your next destination without saying a word to him. “wooow! you’re not even gonna say anything to me?? i’m so hurt!!” gojo whines behind you, already managing to piss you off at the beginning of your mission.

the place you were headed to was a building that was rumored to be haunted. supposedly it had been involved in a lot of accidents in the area. people last being seen near the house before going missing, car accidents in the area, reported “weird activity” inside the house. it was enough to have the curse inside deemed a special grade, which meant the two of you needed to focus on this mission and you know gojo isn’t gonna do that.

after a long ass train ride that felt like it was gonna go on forever because of gojos endless talking, the two of you made it to the house. it was much older than all other houses on the street and was visibly abandoned and overgrown. the immense amount of cursed energy coming from inside was a bit intimidating, even for you, and made you a bit tense, which did not go unnoticed. “you really scared of some little house?” gojo teased, which took you out of your train of thought. “obviously i’m not scared. i’ve dealt with worse.” you lied through your teeth. of course you’re not gonna reveal that you’re actually trembling in your boots.

“that things no match for me! since you’re soooo scared, why don’t you sit this one out and let me take care of it, princess? i'd hate to see your pretty face get hurt,” truth is, gojo can tell just as well as you can that this curse was no joke. he knows you’re powerful and could probably handle something like this on your own but he doesn’t wanna risk it. seeing you get messed up by a curse while he’s there to protect you, he’d never forgive himself! “no thanks.” you reply dryly, walking up to the house and heading inside.

the presence of the curse inhabiting that house was just as, if not even more intense than it was from the outside and honestly unlike anything you’d dealt with at that point, which is probably why it was able to catch you off guard. you hadn’t even been able to get a glimpse of it before it had you on the floor, across the room and unconscious.

waking up, it felt like you had been asleep for decades. at first you were happy to be in your bed, until you realized it wasn’t your bed. your head hurt like hell, it felt like your brain was too big for your skull and wanted to break free. the lights in the room blaring in your eyes didn’t help. you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling waves of pain along your weakened body. when you were able to sit up, the one person you were hoping not to see was looking out the window and had been alerted by the sound of bedsheets shuffling.

“hi y/n!!!” he yells excitedly, getting up and bringing his chair to sit beside you. “i totally saved your ass! that cursed fucked you up bad!” gojo laughs at you. under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be amused by his antics, but especially now it was even more upsetting. for one, you were embarrassed. the man you hate most watched you get absolutely folded by some random ass curse. and on top of that he had to save you and bring you back afterwards. the realization made your blood run cold and you couldn’t even be bothered to look him in the eyes. you hear him lightly sigh in response to your silence.

The switch in his demeanor was sudden when he can visually see on your face how hurt you are, physically and emotionally. “i know your head probably hurts. i got you some advil.” you finally look up at gojo, before looking down at the bedside table to see a little bottle of advil and a glass of water. “the water had ice in it but.. it melted.” as you graciously take the advil and gulp down the water like you hadn’t drank for days, you think about the amount of time that must’ve passed, evident by the pinkish hue of the sky and the bright orange sunlight shining through the window and onto the floor.

after finishing the glass of water and setting it down you sat in silence, your lightly bandaged arms lying in from of you. you decide to appreciate the silence, as normally gojo would be laughing and teasing to no end. and after a catastrophic mission like this? being knocked cold out for hours? you thought you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him, but surprisingly you hadn’t heard a word. “is the advil working?”

“it hasn’t even been 10 minutes.” you hiss at him, instantly missing the peace and quiet. you take a quick look at gojo, noticing the unusual darkness of his bright blue eyes and the way his hair is somehow messier than it usually is. he almost looks like he’s been through war even though you know that isn’t the case. he probably made light work out of that damn curse. “remember what i said..? about not forgiving myself if i couldnt protect you?”

"you did not say that." you actually look up at him but his gaze is focused on the floor in front of him. “i know you hate me and all but.. i really care for you, y’know? you had me kinda worried.” he somewhat laughs to himself but not the same way he usually does.

“sorry.” is all you can whisper out. “thank you for saving me, though.” as much as you want to be nice to him for saving your life, the way his demeanor changes when your gratefulness strokes his ego makes you regret it. “yeah, i know. i’m awesome. don’t i deserve a reward?” gojos eyes light up again, continuously making you regret being kind to him for once. but at the same time, considering his sweeter words to you, you’ll humor him. “what kinda reward?” you roll your eyes playfully. “hmmmm… i think i deserveee….” gojo pretends to think hard, putting his hand to his chin. “a kiss!!” the slight smile on your face instantly melts, which in turn causes gojo to start pouting and whining like a child. “don’t look at me like that! i saved your life and patched you up and all i’m asking for is a kiss!!”

“i don’t want to kiss you.” gojos jaw drops as he genuinely looks shocked by your blatant statement. “what!? how could you not want to kiss me?! you owe me your life!!” all you can do is sigh and cross your arms, which leads gojo to using a different avenue to convince you. “pleeeaseee baby? one kiss won’t hurt…” the look he gave you can only be described as the same one a sad kitten would give you when they want you to give them food. his face almost makes you feel bad for your mean words since he looks like he’ll genuinely cry if you don’t agree to kiss him. “fine. one kiss. hurry up.” gojos face lights up in a way you’ve never seen before, a big smile across his face as he practically lounges onto the bed beside you. he swiftly places a hand around your waist while the other picks up your legs and places them on his lap. “can you slow down! i said one kiss. not whatever this is.”

“it will be one kiss! or maybe two? i don’t care, i’ve been waiting for this!” before you can say a word, he already has his lips on yours. you couldn’t deny that he was a good kisser. suddenly everything and everyone melted away and it was just the two of you, your hands on his chest and his around your waist. you kinda wanted it to stay like this, in a weird twisted way you never thought you’d feel with a man like gojo.

i think this would make the perfect prequel to a cute fic if anyone wants a pt 2!! js lmk!!

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader

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paradox-n-bedrock · 8 days

Text

I actually find Donna and Shaun's marriage kind of fascinating and think there's a solid middle ground to be found between the "dead relationship, full of resentment and apathy" and "ideal couple, super in love" camps. I try to give hints of that in the stuff I've been working on (expect gratuitous use of that Shaun Temple is Tired tag), but I really want to explore it a little more deeply.

There are potential consequences from Donna suddenly being a package deal with her best friend and canonical love of her life but neither immediate divorce nor a seamless transition into an alternative relationship structure feel very likely (though there's no shame in using either or dealing with it off-page if it doesn't suit the fic). I just crave some more complex, nuanced takes on them adapting to the changes in or the dissolution of the marriage.

Plus, people are sleeping on the sheer drama of: you fell in love with an amazing but troubled woman and fifteen years later she unlocks memories that fundamentally changed her as a person, including the relationship with someone she wanted to stay with forever. Oh, and the two of them are inseparable again, so you've got a brand new member of the household.

I know we appreciate Shaun's ability to just roll with stuff, but it's a major change regardless of whether you prefer platonic or romantic DoctorDonna. Like Donna being herself in all her glory is gonna make or break that marriage, no matter where their existing relationship is at. And both options have the potential to be interesting. Do they not fit together anymore, no matter how happy for her Shaun might be, or, despite some growing pains, is it as good for their relationship as it is for Donna personally? Does having the memory issue and the financial stress solved allow frustrations in the relationship to heal? Or do they find they're not as securely bound together as they thought? I do think romcom jealousy is boring but suddenly watching someone else irrefutably bring out the happiest, best version of your spouse might bring up some complicated emotions.

As an aside, the parallels between Shaun and Lee also make me a little crazy. She picked another handsome, easy going, virtually silent man who seems to defer to her the vast majority of the time. Their kid has her last name. She sits at the head of the table like a queen holding court. I love it, anything else wouldn't feel right, but I just can't stop hearing, "What does that say about me?" "Everything."

#doctor who #doctordonna #doctor x donna #fourteen x donna #fourteendonna #donna noble #fourteenth doctor #tendonna #shaun temple #dw meta #this is the expanded version of a twitter thread i made earlier #and it is bc i immediately started another fic #sorry i cannot stop thinking about them #help me #or enable me and give more dopamine #your call #paradox writes

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jjkeverlast · 10 months

Note

hiii

can I request sub!jk X fem!reader?

shy, nerdy jk and mean reader plss

write whatever you want as long as my baby is a subby baby plsss

thankuuuuu🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

ohh and maybe face slapping and nipple play (only if you feel comfortable and write this kind of stuff!!)

let me be good | jjk (m)

>> pairing camboy!jk x fem!reader

>> genre/au's camboy!au | best friends!au | college!au | smut | crack

>> summary a movie night between you and jungkook turns chaotic when you find out he's an active camboy.

>> word count 3.3k (i got carried away sorry) 🗿

>> author's note here you go anonie, i tried my best dhjkhfsd i can admit it was hard but, i hope u enjoy this filth!! thank you for requesting <333

[keep in mind that i do not have taglists for request. thank you.]

Jungkook completely forgot that you had plans tonight. Those plans are watching Iron Man 3. If Jungkook knew he would’ve never started a livestream. But he did, he had studied all day in his apartment while Taehyung was gone and he needed a release.

So, he sat at his desk, turning on the livestream while he touched himself like he always did. He never showed his face, only from his lips and down. He stroked himself with zero shame, noticing the praise he got from the comments on how pretty he sounded, how pretty his cock is and it just kept riling up.

Jungkook had a huge praise kink. He loved being told he was good at what he was doing which led him to know he was highly submissive, giving in to making his partners feel good. Or well, in this case his viewers.

He was already bucking his hips, fucking himself in his fist while light whines escaped his lips, when his phone kept blowing up.

Jungkook ignored it, too busy chasing his orgasm, but fuck he really should’ve because then he would’ve known you’re already on your way after dropping by the convenience store and buying snacks for your movie night.

Instead, Jungkook came all over his cock and thighs, trying to catch his breath before he stopped the live to clean himself up. The minute he did, the doorbell rang.

Jungkook jumped up, hurrying himself as he caught a glimpse of your messages telling him you’re a few minutes away. He internally facepalmed himself, but tried to keep calm to not give anything away when he finally had to open the door for you.

So, when he changed, he strutted to the front door, greeting you with a small smile.

You didn’t seem to notice anything, too excited to see the pretty face of Robert Downey Jr. on the big TV. Taehyung had bought it when Jungkook and him first moved in, insisting they would need it and it definitely came in handy.

Therefore, Jungkook follows you to the living room, sitting calmly beside you while you scroll to find the film.

Jungkook and you had become friends since the first semester of college. It was mostly due to Taehyung being a mutual friend but somehow, despite Jungkook being introverted and shy and you the complete opposite, you hit it right off the bat.

It was mostly Marvel and Overwatch you talked about for hours, but Jungkook loved how someone seemed to share his interests. You had never made him feel bad for not being as talkative and social as you, which made Jungkook extremely comfortable in your presence.

The connection between you two did lead to a tiny crush from Jungkook’s side. After all, he didn't know many people, and especially women so for you to be in his presence more often than Taehyung sparked that crush easily. He knew he never had a shot. How could he when so many spoke of you? Wanting to become a close friend of yours? He understood it. You were always so easy to talk to, helping out anyone that was in need and made everyone around you feel comfortable. You were definitely popular. Jungkook had told you multiple times but you always shrugged him off, saying it didn’t matter.

“It’s weird seeing him after watching Infinity War.” You admit, catching Jungkook out of his thoughts. He hummed in agreement.

Halfway through the film, you had already eaten half of the snacks when your phone pinged. You let the film roll, checking your phone while Jungkook reached for some more popcorn.

“Shit. Jungkook, can I borrow your laptop? I forgot to send an important email to Namjoon.” You plea, eyes crinkling due to the sudden wave of stress you’re hit with.

“Sure. Just remember to log out.” With that, you got up from the couch, walking to Jungkook’s room while he continued to watch the TV.

It had gotten quiet, Jungkook wondering what’s taking so long so he got up, walking to his room when his whole body froze.

There you were, standing still with your mouth hanging open, watching the open tab that Jungkook used for his streams.

Fuck the fucking duck!

“Oh! Jungkook… I—“ You were a stuttering mess, something Jungkook had never seen in those few years he’s gotten to know you. This was bad. This was the fucking worst. Jungkook began to internally panic, unsure what to say. Does he brush it off? Does he confront it? What the fuck does he do? This is the nightmare for every introvert that’s caught doing something that no one could ever guess that they did.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to explain anything. I should’ve just gone out of it and—�� You covered your face in your hands, panicking yourself while you moved your gaze from the computer to the floor of Jungkook’s bedroom.

Jungkook still didn’t say anything. He had never been in such a situation.

“I’ll just send that email and we can go back to Iron Man.” You smile gently, trying to ease down the awkwardness and overall embarrassment from the situation.

Jungkook found himself nodding to your words, scrambling back to the couch while screaming internally. A bad habit he had caught ever since he was little was overthinking. So that’s what his mind did out of instinct. He thought of every possible scenario of what you could be thinking in this exact moment.

How come he’s one of the smartest people from his class and let such a thing happen?! Everything could’ve been avoided if he just closed down the tab like a normal person and—

Jungkook’s thoughts stopped running when you walked back to your seat on the couch. You smiled once more, going back to give your attention to the movie. Something was itching in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. He wanted to say something, anything but he knew himself and that task seemed impossible.

The movie was coming to an end and Jungkook’s brain kept nagging uncomfortably at him. He wasn’t even certain what would help in this situation. Talking about it seemed out of the question and Jungkook would probably not even be able to blurt out a reason behind him being an active camboy. Especially not in front of the girl he’s been crushing on for months.

“Jungkook… should we talk about it? Or?” You were opening the window for a possibility to just talk it out and forget everything right after. Jungkook was still uncertain with what he needed at this very moment so instead, he shut his brain up and followed your lead.

“Maybe… I don’t know. I’m not good at… talking.” He hesitates. You turn your body towards him, trying to make him comfortable since everything just tumbled down like bricks on his head.

“That’s okay, Jungkook.” You began fiddling with the blanket wrapped around you. “I guess I’ll start to make this easier. Well for starters, I’ll admit that the reason I got so flustered wasn’t because I found out you’re a camboy.”

You sigh loudly, covering your face with his blanket when you mumble something. Jungkook isn’t able to hear anything, unsure if he should ask you to repeat yourself or not.

Fuck it.

“What?”

You remove the blanket, “I got flustered because I’ve been watching your content, without knowing it’s you and now that I know I just—“

Jungkook chokes on his own spit by the confession. You? You watched his livestreams? No. There’s absolutely no way…

“So yeah, that’s why I acted like I did and I’m so sorry. Fuck, actually should we just move on from this? Let this stay between us?” You seem to regret ever bringing this up, Jungkook figures because he hasn’t exactly responded to what you said.

“No.” Jungkook says before thinking.

Your lips seal shut, surprised to hear something from Jungkook.

“I mean…” Jungkook coughs, feeling his throat turn dry. “I just never expected for you to watch my content and—“ It suddenly reminds Jungkook that you have seen him naked. You’ve seen him with his thighs spread, touching himself shamelessly while showering his cock and hands with his cum. Oh god Jungkook might actually just get up and put on his running shoes.

“Yeah.” You mumble under your breath, afraid to look at him while you talk about such a topic.

“You’ve seen me— fuck!” Jungkook groans, pulling his hood up from his hoodie, mind spiraling.

“It’s okay Jungkook! Your content is amazing, don’t worry.” You say to make him feel better but immediately regret it because then you started to apologize.

“Shit. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that—“

“Y-you think it’s good?” Jungkook doesn’t even know what he’s saying right now. Right now his brain is just focused on you calling his content amazing. You of all people think him touching himself is amazing. What the actual fuck?!

“It’s very good.” You seem less tense now, following his lead regarding the conversation.

“What’s—“ Jungkook clears his throat. “What’s good about it?” Jungkook cringes at himself for asking such a question. He can’t even believe he let it slip.

You seem surprised by the question, but it doesn’t seem to bother you to answer it. “You sound really pretty.” Jungkook had never expected for you to be this honest, this precise. It makes Jungkook feel all kinds of things and his body begins to grow hot.

“Thank you.” Jungkook still can’t look you in the eyes. Needing a solid hour to process everything that has happened in the spawn of a few minutes.

The conversation stops at that. You both go back to watching the last five minutes and when the credits start to roll you notify Jungkook that you’ll go home. Jungkook’s heart drops, feeling stupid for letting himself enjoy the earlier comment from you but you’re right, you should go home. Both of you need to clear your heads if you want to continue a healthy friendship and forget this ever happened.

When you’re standing by the door, Jungkook gains the courage to give you a small smile.

“Let’s just forget this happened, okay?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook agrees even though a part of him doesn’t want to. He’s still uncertain why exactly.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” You say, reaching for the doorknob.

“Goodnight.”

Just as you open the door something kicks inside of Jungkook.

“Wait.” He grabs your wrist. You turn, eyes popped open by his sudden action.

“One more question, before we forget.” Jungkook needs to ask this, he can’t let you walk out without knowing.

“Sure, go ahead.” You don’t move from his grasp and Jungkook notices.

“When you found out, what was your first thought?” Jungkook’s curiosity peaked at the thought of you being gone for too long. Something must’ve slipped your mind right?

You don’t respond immediately, taking some time to think which only kicks some uncomfortable nerves inside of Jungkook.

“That I couldn’t believe the guy I was crushing on was also the one I got myself off too.” Jungkook doesn’t even have time to respond before you start to laugh, probably still in shock of what just happened.

“Anyways.” You say to brush off the confession that you like Jungkook.

Jungkook blames it on everything that has happened with what he does next. There’s no other explanation for it.

He steps closer to you, letting your chests brush up against each other when he whispers, “I like you too.”

You blink twice before you push yourself forward, kissing Jungkook. He notices how soft your lips feel for a second before you’re already pulling away.

“Sorry— I shouldn’t have.” You don’t sound regretful, just in shock that you let yourself kiss him with no warning.

Jungkook can’t exactly think, but there is one thing he wants. He wants to keep kissing you, so he does, pulling himself in again and letting his lips brush above yours before diving in.

This time there’s a lot more movement. Your lips move in sync as your tongue probs itself in his mouth, teasing him. Jungkook tries not to moan at the taste of you, a taste he’s been aching for. You shift, letting your hands roam on Jungkook’s back as you clutch yourself tighter around his form. Jungkook gasps inside your mouth when he notices how close you are and how delicately you’re touching him.

Jungkook gains the courage to put his hands on your waist, letting himself feel and admire your form.

It’s not that Jungkook had expected it, but somehow the make out session had lead to you both dragging yourselves to his bedroom, eager to do more than just kissing. Jungkook is definitely not complaining and especially not when he gets to feel you straddle his lap, tucking at the ends of his t-shirt in desperation.

This might likely be a dream, maybe Jungkook fell asleep on the couch after you left. He wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up in the next thirty seconds, drool on his pillowcase and you nowhere in sight.

The moment you grind down your hips on Jungkook’s already hard cock is when Jungkook knows this is real. Yeah. This is definitely fucking real and you like him. You of all people, Jungkook swears he could float on a pink sky right now.

Too focused on how good you feel on top of him, Jungkook doesn’t notice how worked up you’re getting by just a silly make out sesh. He’s fucking going crazy, too absorbed by feeling of your lips to do something. He just wants to be good for you. Wants to please you perfectly, make you feel so fucking good.

“You wanna do this?” You ask, fiddling with the hem of his shirt while nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Yeah.” Jungkook breathes out with no doubts. He can’t let this chance slip.

With the confirmation, you take the chance to pull Jungkook’s shirt upwards. When the shirt lands on the ground, you push him down, kissing him on his neck. The feeling of your wet tongue circling on his soft skin causes Jungkook to moan. He stretches his neck out of reflex, letting you mark him as you please.

“Fuck you sound even prettier in real life.” You mumble against his skin, moving further down. Jungkook grows goosebumps by the comment, a reminder that you’ve already heard him, seen him.

Jungkook lifts his head, wanting to watch you roll your tongue all over him. It’s then that he catches you licking softly on his nipples. Jungkook whines by the contact, due to him being extremely sensitive. You take notice of how he reacts, continuing by sucking down as your other hand perks it in between your fingers.

“Ah—“ Jungkook thinks he might cum in his pants if you continue.

Instead, you move further down, trailing your mouth on his abs and abdomen. Jungkook supports himself on both elbows, never growing tired of the sight of you worshiping his body with your tongue.

You don’t take your time, unbuckling his belt quickly, too eager to see his cock in real life, after watching it for months on camera.

The expression of your face is unreal when you first catch a glimpse of it. Your mouth has dropped, eyes not blinking once.

“Shit.” You grab a hold of the base, feeling the soft skin against your palm and Jungkook bucks into your hand out of instinct. You gasp by the sudden action, seeming to love how desperate he is. Jungkook almost felt shame for searching contact so fast but you seem to fucking love it.

You move upwards, kissing him again while your hand begins to stroke him. Jungkook has trouble kissing back, overwhelmed by the feeling. His half parted lips are coated in your spit, flushed red.

The slick sounds from your movements fill the room, along with the small tiny pants from Jungkook. You’re smirking against his lips, never stopping, squeezing by the tip whenever your hand moves upwards.

“Wanna hear you, Jungkook.” You breathe out. Jungkook obeys, not holding back on his sweet sounds that you’ve grown to love.

You cradle his face, admiring how his eyes are shut, mouth agape. Jungkook knows he probably looks fucked out already, and you’ve only touched him for a few minutes.

While you continue to jerk him off, you move your mouth to his nipples again, playing and licking them. Jungkook shuffles beneath you, the sensation growing more.

When you bite down on his bud, Jungkook arches his back whining uncontrollably. He knows he’s close and you’re not thinking of stopping, so Jungkook figures you’re expecting for him to finish all over your hand.

“You’re doing so well baby. That’s it.” You guide him through his nearing orgasm, nuzzling your nose against his soft skin.

The nickname sets something off in Jungkook, making him tense, letting out a panted out whine while you grip the base softly. Jungkook’s cock starts to twitch, a signal he’s close and you pick up the signal, going back to kissing him.

Jungkook’s moans are muffled by your tongue, and before he knows it, his hips stutter, releasing all over your hand. You jerk him off slowly, letting him ride out his orgasm while you praise him for being so good.

When he’s finally caught his breath again, you remove your hand, stuffing your fingers in your mouth, tasting him so shamelessly.

Jungkook thinks he might get hard again by just seeing that.

You don’t speak to one another, only embracing each other tightly. The moment makes Jungkook think back to his dumb decision from earlier. But then again, if he hadn’t been a bit stupid for once, he would’ve never had you in his arms at this very moment.

It’s a win for him.

But somehow, Jungkook wants to please you. He wants to make you feel good after you just did. So, he doesn’t say anything, hovering above you. “Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

You only nod, too stunned by how he still wants to do something more.

Jungkook scrambles, reaching for your pants. You help him out, lifting your hips when Jungkook grabs the waistband. You both giggle when the end of your pants gets stuck by your ankle, Jungkook struggling to pull them off. When he finally manages, he begins to pepper your thighs with kisses, inching closer to your covered core.

You hum in satisfaction, enjoying the small gestures from Jungkook. Jungkook is too eager to see you, noticing how there’s already a wet patch on your underwear. So, he pushes them to the side, landing his tongue flatly on you. It’s then that Jungkook hears you moan for the first time. You sound unreal. Jungkook tries not to let himself get affected, focusing solemnly on making you feel good instead. He dives deeper, his nose nudging on your clit while he covers your hole with his tongue. You’re soaked already, tasting like a fucking dream and Jungkook can’t seem to get enough. He’s inching his face as close as possible, wanting to taste you everywhere.

You moan again, gripping his hair harshly as he continues. Jungkook can feel himself grow hard by hearing your pleased sounds, caused by him. Jungkook sucks and licks, determined to make you finish on his tongue. You buck your hips, chasing his mouth and the feeling of his tongue. Jungkook somehow wishes you would never cum, loving to hear you like this, so fucked out and breathless.

When Jungkook sucks harshly on your clit, that’s when your back arches, coating his nose and mouth with your slick. Jungkook enjoys the feeling of you all over his face, so he doesn’t wipe it off, instead he moves upwards laying next to you.

“Holy fucking shit.” You breathe out, chest heaving. Jungkook only hums in content, proud of himself for making you feel good.

Now, it’s definitely a clear win.

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brighttears · 1 year

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hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be.

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in.

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently.

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges.

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?”

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.”

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud.

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?”

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand.

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?”

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?”

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of.

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?”

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.”

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

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