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catladyoftheyr · 2 months

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Muscle Memory

Pt 2

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: you left town for your career, but you and Miguel always end up hooking up whenever you come back home.

Warnings/ Authors note: I was listening to Muscle Memory by Kelsea Ballerini and I had a vision and had to write it down.

Warnings and other things to be aware of : SMUT (FILTHY 18+ I’m so serious), alcohol, but neither character becomes inebriated, rough sex, unprotected p in v, light choking, filming of sex, oral sex for both parties, lots of dirty talk, creampie, facial, semi public sex/exhibitionism. You’re fucking against his car in a back alley parking lot.

Word count: 2.7k

Special tag for @lazyjellyfish300 I know you wanna read it bb 🕷️🪼

You haven't been home in months, but as you walked through the entryway of the local dive, you saw that your favorite spot on the end of the bar was still open. You slid onto the stool and ordered a margarita on the rocks. You sipped your drink quietly and pulled out your phone to check your email. You moved to a larger city after college for your career, but now it felt like work followed you everywhere you went, even off the clock. You were so absorbed in work that you didn’t notice that someone had taken the seat next to you at the bar: at least until you heard a familiar voice.

“Every time I see you you’re on that damn phone”

“Some of us have jobs, Miguel.”

“I have a job, thank you very much. It’s my bar you’re sitting in if I recall.” He smirked as he said the last sentence.

“Don’t you have work to do then? Besides terrorizing paying customers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile. Miguel might be annoying, but he was still the closest friend you had back home. He’d never resented you for leaving town, even if he’d wanted you to stay.

“You know your drinks are on the house when you come here, cariño”. He made his accent heavy when he used the pet name. He knew you had a soft spot when he spoke Spanish. Miguel motioned to the bartender and ordered you another margarita

“It seems like bad business practice to give free drinks to any beautiful woman that walks through your door. O’haras is gonna close if you keep it up” you joked, sliding your phone back in your pocket.

“Aye, only for you. How long are you staying this time?” He replied. He slid your drink in front of you, toying with the straw. The glass looked comically small next to Miguel’s large hands. Your mind drifted to the nights where his hands had been tangled in your hair, palming your breasts, and inside your-

You came back to reality when you felt Miguel playing with your bra strap under your sleeve. The song had changed to something country, and Miguel was humming in your ear. “You know what they say, tequila makes her clothes fall off” he whispered as he slid your strap further down your shoulder.

You slid your strap back in place and moved Miguel’s hand back to the bar. “You’re gonna have to do better than if you want to get in my pants tonight, Mig.” You wanted him just as badly, but weren’t ready to give in just yet. You wanted to make him work for it. “I bet you can’t beat me at pool”

Miguel let out a loud laugh and threw back his head. “That’s not even a fair fight. I’d feel terrible seeing you lose.”

“Aww is Miggy scared to lose to a girl? Sounds like you’re a chicken” you replied, knowing exactly how to rile him up. You got a thrill out of agitating Miguel, the way his forehead creased, his mouth curling downward.

“I’m telling you right now that I’m gonna wipe the floor with you,” he shot back, clearly holding back a smile. “Don’t expect me to hold back just because you suck” he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the best from Miguel O’Hara.” You walked over to the pool table, sensing Miguel’s eyes trained on your ass as he ordered another round of drinks. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” You called after him.

“I’m just admiring the view, baby”

If he wanted a show, you’d be sure to give him one. You made sure to raise your arms as high as you could when you reached for the pool sticks. You made sure that your shirt rode up, exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of your shorts. You handed one of the sticks to Miguel with a smug grin on your face. He bit his lip as he watched you arrange the balls in the rack; he ogled you as you deliberately arched your back bending over the table. “You can break,” you said flirtatiously.

Miguel took on a look of intense focus. You could see the way he calculated the best angle to shoot from. His t-shirt came untucked from his jeans when he moved around the table. You took in the view of his tanned skin, and the way his immense frame loomed over everything. Miguel had sunk three balls in quick succession before missing his next shot. He swore under his breath and turned to face you. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“Come on, Mig. At least give me a chance to play before you sink everything.”

“No way! I told you I wasn’t going to go easy on you.”

You knew you didn’t stand a chance at winning; but you weren’t giving up without a fight. There weren’t any rules about distracting your opponent. You gave your shorts a gentle tug to emphasize your figure before analyzing which ball to aim for. You picked your target and leaned forward, moving your hips from side to side knowing Miguel was watching you. You took your shot slowly and watched with disappointment as the cue ball sank into a hole. “Fuck”

“Woof, a scratch on your first turn? You’re making this too easy” Miguel taunted you with a smirk. He grabbed two bottles of beer off a table and tore off the caps with his teeth, spitting them into his open palm before shoving them in his pocket. It was his favorite party trick, and he knew it turned you on. He turned back to the pool table. “Watch and learn, nena. This is how a pro does it.” He sunk two more stripes and missed the third.

That made five balls to your whopping total of zero. Time to ramp up your distraction strategy. “If you’re so good, then why don’t you help with this next shot?” You tried to sound as innocent as possible.

Miguel obliged and stood behind you, his frame towering over you. He placed his arms on yours and the heat of his body sent shockwaves down your spine. You bent together in perfect sync as Miguel showed you where to aim, saying something about keeping an eye on the ball and how to line up your shot. You weren’t listening, instead pressing your hips against his. You moved slowly and deliberately, grinding against his crotch. The friction was driving you both crazy, but neither of you wanted to be the first to admit it. Miguel stifled a moan and pressed into you even harder. Neither of you cared about pool anymore. He nipped at your ear and you tried not to squeak. The pool sticks fell to the tabletop and Miguel leaned to whisper in you ear.

“Follow me.” Miguel grabbed your hand and you both stumbled out the back door of the bar into the parking lot. Immediately he had you pressed against the brick wall of the building. His lips crashed into yours, desperate and frenzied. You kissed back and grabbed his hair in an effort to pull him even closer. His tongue found its way into mouth while you moaned into the kiss. Miguel broke the kiss only to move his lips to your neck. “You’re such a fucking tease.” His eyes bored into yours. “Every time you come home you come into my bar, practically fucking begging to end up underneath me.”

“And you it up, Miggy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and hoisted yourself up to cross your legs behind his back. “You want me so bad; you’d do anything for this pussy.” Miguel’s hands cupped your ass, sliding under the hem of your shorts. You moaned as he kneaded your flesh expertly. He carried you over to his car while you were still wrapped around him. Miguel let you down and leaned against the hood of his car, his cock clearly straining against the denim of his jeans.

“This is what you do to me, baby. You drive me so fucking crazy.” He groaned. You rubbed his cock through the fabric, relishing the noise he made as you teased him. You unbuckled his belt and tugged down his pants and boxers. Miguel’s cock sprang free and you could barely wrap your hand around his thick girth. You were no stranger to his body but could swear he seemed bigger than you remembered. Miguel moaned loudly as you slowly your hand up and down his shaft, taking care to rub your thumb over his sensitive tip.

Whenever you and Miguel hooked up it felt natural. You’d done this so many times you both knew exactly what the other liked. Every nook and cranny, every secret spot. You knew exactly which buttons to press to drive each other wild. You picked up the pace of your strokes before kneeling to take him in your mouth. “Please baby. I need more. Need you to suck my cock.” Miguel’s voice was desperate and pleading. You licked from base to tip, tasting the salt of the precum he was leaking like a faucet. You bobbed your head up and down, struggling with his size. Miguel bucked his hips in response and you made it halfway down the length of his cock.

You came up for air and spit in your palm and began stroking the base while you sucked. Miguel groaned and you felt him wrap a hand in your hair, pushing your mouth down further. “Come on baby, I know you can take me.” Your hands fell to your sides and Miguel’s hands guided you up and down his shaft. “You’re so fucking pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock.” His pace quickened and he began to fuck your face, thrusting down your throat. He pulled out of your mouth and started stroking himself. “Fuckkk I’m gonna cum. Open your mouth for me, baby.” You closed your eyes and stuck out your tongue, feeling ropes of semen hit your face and tongue. You licked your lips, tasting the salt and sweat. You opened your eyes to see Miguel had his phone out. “Smile for me, hermosa. You look so pretty with my cum on your face I want to remember this” he cooed while snapping pictures.

Miguel helped you up off your knees and swiped his fingers softly across your face before popping them into his mouth to clean them. He kissed you again before pressing you face down against the hood of his car. You felt his large hand palming against your pussy through your shorts. “Mmmplease, Mig. Don’t tease me like this.” He kept rubbing, pressing the fabric into your folds.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, baby. Paybacks a bitch.” Miguel crouched down and kissed your pussy through your denim shorts; You felt him massage your ass while he pressed his mouth against you. He pressed down firmly as you squirmed under his touch, desperately trying to increase the friction. “Stop fucking wiggling.” He yanked your shorts down so the only thing between him and your cunt was the thin fabric of your thong. He rubbed your clit through your panties and you gasped.

“Please, baby. I need more” you moaned breathlessly. He picked up the pace, making quick circles around your bud with his large fingers. You felt the pleasure building steadily as Miguel worked his magic. “Ah! I’m almost there. Keep going, Miggy!” Just as the words left your mouth he stopped, leaving you hanging on the edge of your orgasm. “What the fuck was that for?!” You turned to face him and saw a shit eating grin on his face. “It’s not fucking funny, Mig” you groaned.

“I told you, payback is a bitch. You don’t get to cum until I say you can, baby.” You sighed and Miguel pressed you against the car hood again with one hand, using the other to push your panties to the side. He slid one thick finger into you and moved it slowly in and out. “You’re so fucking wet for me baby. And so tight. I’m gonna stretch this pussy out” he cooed, adding a second finger. “That’s it, baby.” He knelt down again and you felt him trade his fingers for his tongue. He darted in and out of your entrance, and you flooded with wetness. “You taste so fucking good”. Miguel continued licking, kissing, and sucking every fold of your slit. The pleasure building up was starting to become unbearable; you had no idea how you were going to be able to hold back. Then Miguel said the magic words: “Cum for me, cariño” he purred, sucking on your clit as if his life depended on it.

You let yourself fall over the edge and you gasped as your orgasm overtook you. Waves of pleasure racked your body and you found yourself speechless. You were coming down from the rush when you felt the tip of Miguel’s cock poking at your entrance. “It’s too big” you moaned, already feeling the stretch from just the tip.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’ve done this before. You’re so good at taking me, baby.” Miguel replied, pressing in another inch of his girth. He grunted as he felt you stretching around him. “Your pussy is so good. You make me feel so good.” Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up to his chest, pushing his cock in further. He grabbed your hair and turned your face toward him to kiss you again. The kiss deepened and became frenzied as you felt him going deeper and deeper until he finally bottomed out inside of you. You felt so full you couldn’t believe he fit inside of you.

“Your cock is so fucking big, Miggy. I need you to fuck me.” You moaned, not caring if anyone else was around. Miguel took your words to heart and immediately started pumping in and out, your wetness running down your thighs. He kept a steady pace, hitting the sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. “Fuck me harder” you cried, cockdrunk.

Miguel pulled out and flipped you over, dragging you both to the side of his car. He pulled out his phone again and pressed record before reentering you. “Put on a show for me baby, show the camera how good I make you feel.” You moaned louder, happy to show off for him. Miguel pushed up your shirt to expose your tits and palmed them roughly with one hand. He groped and squeezed, pinching and rolling your nipples between his digits.

“Fuck, Miggy. You feel so good. Keep going”

“You’re taking this cock so well, baby. The camera loves you. You’re such a little slut for me I love it.” He pumped harder, hitting your cervix with his tip. His spare hand moved from your chest to your throat and he squeezed lightly. You let out a moan and felt pleasure start to build in your core again. You used one hand to start rubbing circles on your clit while Miguel was thrusting. “That’s it, baby. Rub it out for me. You’re taking my cock so well.”

“M-mig I’m close. I’m gonna cum” you squeaked out, the circles on your clit becoming more frantic.

“Go on, nena. Cum on my cock. Show me how pretty you look when you’re cumming for me.” Miguel’s encouragement pushed you over the edge and your second orgasm ripped through your body. You felt yourself clench tighter around his cock and he thrusted harder, taking his hand off your throat and using it to steady you against the side of the car. “I’m gonna cum, baby. I’m gonna put a baby in you, then you can’t leave me again.” Miguel gave one final thrust before you felt him release, spilling his seed inside of you. He grunted before pulling out slowly.

“That was so good, mig. I remember why I come back to this place when I’m in town now” you joked, pulling your clothes back into place. Miguel finished redressing himself and planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah? Well maybe you should come home more often then.”

#miguel spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #atsv fanart #atsv fanfiction #miguel o’hara smut

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h4sanz · 2 months

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obey me! visuals - pt. 1 (dateables)

characters: dateables

warnings: nsfw, penetration, dumbification, fingering, praise, orgasm control (if there’s any i missed pls lmk in the comments)

DIAVOLO

link — he’s a big man. so it takes a moment to adjust to his size, pretty much every time. however, as soon as you give him the go-ahead, he is moving at the speed of light. he will absolutely plow into you from behind, making sure to show your clit some attention as well. “oh you’re taking me so well.. you’re such a wonderful human.”

link — it was your fault, honestly. walking around in your pretty little uniform, purposefully dropping stuff in front of him just to show off your lack of underwear for the day. he’ll shove everything off his desk and plop you on there, and quickly force all clothing off of you. he won’t stop until he believes you’ve had enough, and with how you acted… that’ll be a while. “fuck, you can’t keep doing this to me when other people are around, mc. i just can’t help myself..”

BARBATOS

link — give him the opportunity to fuck you stupid, and he’ll take it. he loves to fuck you the the point where you can’t even keep your mouth closed, letting your drool spill from your lips. but don’t get too loud; the demon prince may hear. if you have to suck on his fingers to stay quiet, so be it. “oh c’mon, you can be quiet for me, yeah?” “have i really fucked you that dumb, my love? my, what a shame.”

link — one thing he likes more than actual penetration, is the foreplay. he’d give anything to see the look on your face as he abuses your cunt to oblivion. hours will be spent fingering you. all he asks is you come for him: but don’t make a mess. if you do.. well that’s for you to find out. “ah, ah. keep your head up. i need you to watch yourself.

SIMEON

link — oh boy, please ride him. he absolutely loves seeing you above him, taking control and showing him the ropes. he will rub all over your body; this boy is so needy for his lover—will spend the whole time caressing you, his grip getting ever-so-tighter when you squeeze him just right. “oh, please, please don’t stop. that’s feels so— ah, so good.”

link — he needs to see your breasts as you bounce on him. there will not be a time where you ride him and your tits are not out. he loves to rub them, pinch, suck them. he could possibly come to the sight of them alone. but you’re not complaining. the more he comes, the more beautiful his voice gets, the whiniest sounds you have ever heard will escape from his lips. “please, please, please!” he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, he just wants this to never end.

SOLOMON

link — my, does he love pounding into you from this angle. he believes it’s the absolute perfect view of everything: your cunt, your face. the way you wrap around him is so mesmerizing, he just has to watch. and then watching his come spill out of you after he’s done, oh. he’ll shove it back into you and pop your underwear back on with a “don’t let a single drop escape.”

link — there is nothing he loves more than torturing you, sexually, that is. he’ll watch you as your face grows hot and your body squirms all over the place, not able to stay in one set spot. his fingers will curve jussttt right inside of you. you’ll be lucky if you come only once, cause when he’s in this mood, it’ll be hard to get him to stop. “that’s right, you can take one more.” “if you keep squirming away from me like that, you won’t get to come, sweetheart.”

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me smut #obey me diavolo #diavolo smut #obey me barbatos #barbatos smut #obey me simeon #simeon smut #obey me solomon #solomon smut #h4sanz writes ……✎

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sukunas-wife · 3 months

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Sealed Pt. 5

first try 😎 (5th really)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

It didn’t take long to buy what you needed, but your funds were running low. Which led you to believe it was a good time to return to the temple you had opened, immediately after opening the doors there was a line of women and children. It didn’t take long as you started to go through them all, “blessing” pregnant women and healing sick children. Grateful women who couldn’t bear children or didn’t want to lose their children were more than willing to pay any price for healing. You’d been there almost all night when you felt an all too familiar presence. Your back was to the door but you turned looking over your shoulder. There he stood, tall, pale, long black hair and black robes. You turned completely to face him, “You must be Lady Y/n of the Shrine, I’ve heard so many stories of how you… help people, I’m curious of how you do it.”

Kenjaku, those stitches on his forehead would give him away easily to anyone who had common sense. “Sorry men aren’t allowed in the Shrine, with the exception of my husband and son.”

“You have a husband and son?” His face was smiling in disbelief, you didn't trust him even if he and Sukuna had chatted more than a few times he always left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. “Yes but that’s not important , so tell me why you’re really here. I get the feeling you're not leaving so easy.” He hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “I came looking for something. You have it and I might need it. So one sorcerer to another we both know what you have that’s helping you so much, it was awakened when Ryomen Sukuna was reincarnated. Do you know who that is or did you stumble across this little artefact and decide to keep it for yourself.” You watched his hand move from his sleeve holding up one of Sukuna’s fingers. Unamused, you looked away, “Sorry to tell you the only thing I see is a rotting dismembered finger, if you're not here to benefit both of us please leave.” You tried to wave him off but persisted in following you, Morí put himself between the both of you so you didn’t bother to look back at him. “I’ll give you one warning, you give me whatever you took and I’ll leave. But if I have to take it myself-“

He was cut off feeling hot liquid run down his face, your hand held up over your shoulder, “This is your warning, there won’t be a next one.” The sound of his skull cap hitting the floor was disturbing, Morí wanted to gag at the sight of the brain exposed. “That was a mistake.” You turned around your robes ruffled noisily “No! You turning your back when RYOMEN WAS BETRAYED WAS A MISTAKE KENJAKU, your damn lucky you have that binding vow and that he never found out the truth you two faced coward, I used to think you changed bodies so frequently because you actually had a plan. It turns out you're just lowly scum and your intentions were never clear, you’re a coward and when things become difficult in one life you’d just pop someone’s else’s skull open and go for a joy ride until it’s all used up.”

You saw those Fox like eyes light up followed by that unhinged smile, “Well if it isn’t Mrs.Ryomen Sukuna, I heard the rumours you escaped the prison realm, I just couldn’t believe it.” You felt your lip twitch like you were going to bare your teeth, “Believe it, I’m free and don’t think I’m here to support your silly little flip flop grill cheese bullshit plan. I’m also not going to join your little club of misfit cursed wombs and deranged psychopaths. I’m here for Ryomen and my son, if you do anything to hurt either of them I swear on your life Kenjaku I’ll be the one pulling you out of that man’s skull and making sure you never find another life. I have my plans already and I don’t need you.” He seemed displeased, “That’s the problem here Y/n, your wedding vows can’t do a thing to break a binding vow.”

You laughed “That’s the thing Kenny, you two made a binding vow, Tyler’s say there’s this cute little red string tying to Ryomen, you can both push and pull in the same direction as long as the rope never breaks. But, what happens if a third party comes in and manages to cut that string.” Your head tilted with a passive smile, “Get out.”

————-

“Alright Mama-dori, it's time for little Itadori to go out on his own on a mission!” Gojo seemed excited about breaking this news to you. You couldn’t have given him a more bewildered look. “What do you mean on a mission?” Mori was by your side taking the cracking tea cup from your hand before it shattered over the tea table. “Think of it as a field mission … erm Lady Y/n.” Your face didn’t change much while you were staring him down, he could swear he’s seen that look before. “Where’s it going to happen…?”

He gave you a mischievous smile, “Well if I told you how do I know you wouldn’t interfere.” “If you didn't, what makes you think I wouldn’t find Yuji on my own.” Your smug smile didn’t go unnoticed. “Good luck finding us then.”

———

It didn’t take long of you spending your day at home lazing about waiting for Yuji to come back, you weren’t held captive in this dingy little house but you started to wonder if this is what Sukuna felt like now that you understood he was trapped inside of Yuji

“Mooriiiiii”….. “hm.” “MoorIIIIIIII” “I’m sorry?” “MORI.” You finally lifted your head from being laid out on the cushions on the floor, Mori sighed with a sympathetic smile, closing the book he constantly kept your records and plans in. “Yes Lady Y/n?” You rolled over laying your head on the pillow not looking at him anymore, “I miss- Yuji? Or is it your husband this time?” You fell silent huffing and burying your face into the pillow “bof” Mori shook his head with a small smile at your muffled speech. “We’ve talked about this Lady Y/n, if you do want both of them back they really do need to know the truth.” You moved around so the side of your face was on the pillow and you could just barely see Mori looking at you from the tea table, “Do you know how difficult it’s going to be to explain to Sukuna he was reincarnated into his son that he now sees he’s being held hostage in?” Mori’s eyes didn’t leave your face as you watched a ladybug crawl past you, “But he recognizes you even without your cursed presence Lady Y/n…”

Finally you sat up looking at him, “Do you wanna know a secret Morinozuka? Something almost no one else knows?” He seemed uneasy at the thought, hesitating as you continued, “I’ll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone else but do you know why I lived so long? Why don't I age? Look at us Morino, you were a child when I found you all those years ago. You’ve grown, look at me, I have the same face and appearance as the day we met.” You held your hand out to him, he took it in his looking over the back of it, he remembered your hands well. When he was a child you gave him that motherly love of wiping away his tears, he’d take your hand whenever he’d get scared walking in public. He watched you fill out every paper, he admired the way you would heal people, but he always noticed how people’s hands changed with their age, but your hands were the same as the day he met you. “You haven’t aged Lady Y/n but I can’t tell why.”

“I’m a curse Mori, there’s a beautiful story behind how I became a curse” he watched how you smiled looking at your hand, he watched a mark form over your finger, “But that’s a story for another time!” You were quick to get up, “Let’s make something to eat. I doubt Gojo’s not going to feed them so we can eat at least.”

It didn’t take long for You and Mori to throw together a hot pot with meatballs. You were serving Mori who insisted he should be serving you, “oh be quiet Mori I didn’t take care of you for years for you to take care of every little thing I do now, now eat.” He huffed and started to eat watching as you started to serve yourself, it was when you were about to eat your own meal Yuji busted into your new home excited to tell you about everything. Mori caught your food as Yuji tackled you in a hug “Mom you should’ve seen us it was so cool we…” he paused looking at the table where you had set up the pot of broth. “Oh you were eating, sorry.” You watched as he smiled sitting back on his heels rubbing the back of his head with a big shy smile. You couldn’t help but smile at him, “cmon sit I’ll serve you some if you want and you can tell us how your… field test went.” He sat cross legged beside you leaning against your shoulder rambling and stuffing his face telling you about the revolving sushi and this Girl Kugisaki he and Fushiguro met. You laughed hearing how he whined that she sighed after just looking at them. You leaned your head on his and he kept talking, you listened to every word until he eventually fell asleep in your lap.

You looked down at him, your sweet boy, until you saw that eye open up, and a mouth form, it was a soft call and out of character, “Y/n.” You looked at him, Ryomen, “Ryo…” you saw the malicious smile on his face “If this brat trusts you so much I think you could do a little talking and get me out of here don’t you?” He watched and you smiled, shaking your head, crinkling your nose, “Reincarnated not too long ago and you're already making bigger plans…” your smile fell “what the hell was that where are the women and children moving about anyways hm?”

He looked away making a “face” “I don’t know what you're talking about woman, must’ve misheard….” “Mhm.” He looked back at you before looking away, “It’s been lonely you know…” you leaned down pressing a kiss to Sukuna’s “cheek”, he didn’t bother trying to fight you, “I know it’s been lonely you’ve been locked up for centuries Ryo.” He hummed, before looking at you upset “What are you doing HERE Y/n! Why would you surround yourself with these sorcerers and this brat? Who is this brat? WHYS HES SLEEPING ON YOUR LAP!?” Yuji stirred and you rubbed his head, you should send him to sleep in his dorm, “Ryomen-“ you gave him a look, he rolled his eye, “as much as you’d hate to hear this, Yuji Itadori is our so- mm, hmm?” Yuji sat up rubbing his eyes, “What time is it?” He yawned and all you saw was Sukuna squinting at Yuji before disappearing.

“It’s 10:40 Yu,” you started to stand up, “You should go sleep in your dorm so Gojo to Fushigumi don’t freak out if you're missing.”

He laughed, “Fushigumi.” He’s gonna love that one.” He stood up from the ground stretching and yawning before he squeezed you in a hug, “Gnight mom I’ll see you tomorrow.”

————-

“Hm, it’s July… I wonder if Yuji will want to go watch the fireworks later this month…” you yawned leaning against the post on the porch of the little home. The afternoon sun shining on your face, eyes closed, head resting back against the post. Ungratefully one leg was propped up the other was swinging off the porch just barely grazing the grass, the vibrant red of your robes shining bright. The shoji doors were open wide with fly nets set up, futons were airing out for when you wanted to laze about on the porch or in the living room on the floor, Morí had gotten tired of watching you throw all the cushions in a pile just to complain when you were on the floor and the cushions wouldn’t stay still. You heard him hum still scribbling away, you looked over picking up the hand fan laying at your side, “This was my wedding fan, did you bring it?” Morí hummed again “you said bring ALL your precious belongings when we first left the temple I assumed since it was wrapped in fine linen and in a red wooden box it was preserved for a reason. Then I saw a painting in your temple and it all made sense, Lady Y/n.” You waved it around unceremoniously watching the little charms sway around, “Lady Y/n… was Ryomen Sukuna really your husband?”

“Is he really my husband" is what you mean, he still is my husband even after all these years being forced apart…” you paused looking down on the school, “…he’s my husband…surprisingly he was different then to now. I still love him regardless, he gave me his heart and I gave him mine, sure the wedding vows today would probably sound occult but I was his he was mine, it took years to be comfortable by his side and then we he’s our first child, Yuj-” Morí watched the panicked look on your face, when you pulled your sleeve up grabbing your arm where your binding vow has marked you. He watched you squeeze the muscle hissing through gritted teeth, “Yuji.” It sounded like a forced grunt. He watched you cough from trying to bear the pain, it stopped and you let go, you were visibly confused “Lady Y/n what- I don’t know” you cut him off, “that’s never happened before.” You watched as the mark became a lighter colour almost blending into your skin then you understood, “I NEED TO FIND YUJI.”

———

“….s..Go..” You couldn’t get the words out, you wanted to scream at Satoru, you wanted everyone to die and it filled the room the moment he didn’t let you enter and you forced your way in to see your son laying on the cold metal bed. He was stripped bare with a gaping hole in his chest, the woman in a lab coat and Gojo watched you walk right past them. You could still feel a faint lingering of Sukuna’s cursed energy. Your hand moved up slowly taking Yuji's. He was so cold. The hand you squeezed as a child, the tiny chubby hands that wiped your tears “It’s okay mommy!” The hands you held onto walking him to school, you shook your head, tears in your eyes, it’s always these damn sorcerers who are so prideful in what they do they try to play heroes and fix the world. Putting the lives of others at expense even if it means they’ll only save one or two people. Your hand trailed up his arm fingertips brushing over where your binding vow was disappearing. “Some proud jujutsu sorcerer you must be.” You could feel Gojo’s stare, having ignored all his rambling but knowing he was upset.

“My son is dead at the expense of what Satoru Gojo?”

Your hair fell over your face when your tears started to fall, ducking your head down feeling like your chest and shoulders were curling in on you. You placed your hand on his chest and it felt like everything changed. You weren’t in that room, you were standing in an all too familiar place.

“Oh,” you felt the heat in your cheeks rising when you heard Ryomen’s voice, “Well if it isn’t my pretty little wife finally coming to visit me hm?” He was behind you, his left arm lazily wrapped around your waist the right around your shoulder so his hand could hold your jaw, he turned your face to look back and up at him. His eyes were lidded and smiled down at you, “Ryomen…” he moved in closer, his lips ghosting over yours, “y/n.” He closed the gap kissing you, he could feel the way you broke out and smiled against his lips, it made him crack his own smile when you tried to hold back your giggles. You were so happy to be able to see him after so long, “Ryo.” You pulled away and he frowned slightly looking at you, “what- LET GO OF HER-“

All you saw was Sukuna grabbing Yuji’s fist and throwing him and sending him flying into the liquid a distance away. “Oh Yuji..”

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cheshirebitch · 9 days

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ℕ𝕠𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕆𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤

(Alastor x Angel Dust’s Sister!Reader) pt. 2

It really has been a long time, huh?

( previous ) -> ( next )

I have never seen Anthony look at me like that, as though I’m the villain destroying his life. But, last I checked, he was the one going by the real villain that actually did take his life. It was purely distasteful with his choice of name, let alone the fact that was his porno name. What was so wrong with his actual name?

“Listen toots, I didn’t want to ask you for help. We didn’t have any other choice.” The venom spat back at me made my eyes narrow at him. What the fuck is his problem? All of this attitude is not how Anthony would talk to me. It felt like this whole new persona was taking over who he really is. I wanted to rip him apart, but not in front of these people. I can’t let everyone know my weaknesses, even if they pretty much all knew tiny parts.

“I get that. So I’ll ask again, what did you need help with?” I seethed through my teeth, feeling the watching eyes of all his friends. I only tensed up at my own attitude when I remembered Alastor and Lucifer were here too. I rolled my eyes closed and took a deep breath in and out before having an eerily calm aura surrounding me. Knowing I wasn’t going to get an answer out of the pissed off porn star brother, I looked towards Charlie. I could tell I made her nervous, shivers running down her spine before she straightened herself out and answered me.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard that we- uh-“ She glanced back at Lucifer who was wide eyed back, shrugging slightly as a response.

“That you,” pointing at Niffty with a smug smile, “killed the great and Holy Adam? Yeah, hard to miss when it’s being broadcasted on every device in hell.” I crossed my arms, smiling. It was really amusing to see Lucifer step in with his slip up of phrasing. Alastor also put on a good show by standing against Adam. I never expected him to actually take on such a powerful Heaven icon.

“Yeah, well, we need help with reinforcement in case the angels decide to retaliate.” She nervously fidgeted with her fingers, Lucifer watching me with anticipation. They all were, really. I was honored they considered me for help against heaven. Pretending to be debating it, I took long strides between Lucifer and Alastor.

“With all things considered, that’s a lot of my members being potentially killed for you. What do you have to offer me to make it worthwhile?” My hand started to glow pink, flexing my fingers and watching Charlie. Lucifer couldn’t make a deal with me or that’ll make more problems, only leaving Charlie and Alastor. Not like Luci would ever make the trust between us obvious. It would be a poor move if he wants to keep his weaknesses unknown. Alastor would rather drop dead than to be on a leash of someone else, though I have a sneaky suspicion it’s because he’s already on a leash. I should ask him about it next time we have one of our talks. Also, I already knew what they were going to sell to me but I can’t just make an assumption with it.

“We will make sure Angel Dust gets redeemed.” My eyes light up pink, turning around to look at Alastor. He held his hand out casually, opposite of how Charlie held hers against her chest. What a bland, and predictable, deal offer.

“Alastor, baby, I already knew that. We both knew that.” I winked at him. “So, what else?” His smile strained, despite it appearing to become more entertained. I read him like a book. It wasn’t very hard since he loves to hide behind a smile, saying it made things more intimidating. I’d like to think it’s more so the idea of being able to bottle those emotions he loves to hide.

“What else? Darling, I think it’s more than reasonable for that to be a big deal.” He smiled his sharp teeth, my eyes watched them carefully. A sneaky feeling crawling up my spine as my eyes stuck like a magnet to him. That’s when Lucifer pushed Alastor’s arm down, rolling his sleeves up, walking towards me. He stuck his hand outstretched towards me, trying to intimidate me with a hard stare. I just smiled in response, awaiting for his deal. I guess they really are desperate if Luci won’t even let Alastor and I pretend to hash out this deal. It was already mutually understood what he was going to offer was more than just that. He was just toying with the rest.

“We will get your brother into heaven, and you.” My smile froze on my face. I couldn’t get into Heaven. No matter how hard any of us tries, I’ll always be stuck here in hell. That fate was sealed long ago. My hands have been permanently stained red and black from how many lives I selfishly took after the death of my two siblings. My hands crossed tightly behind my back as I pondered harder over what he was promising.

I don’t think I want to go to Heaven. I couldn’t place why but something small was trying to tug me to decide to stay in hell.

Something small. The idea of being in heaven with my two younger siblings was bigger. Hell, maybe even the forgotten sibling will be there too.

“Can you even make deals, Luci?” I purred out the nickname in a taunting manner, giving a small moment of silence between us. Since he wanted to air out dirty laundry, I’ll give more hints to how close we actually are. But, he definitely didn’t think he could make a deal either. Charlie tried reasoning with him while Alastor watched from the sidelines, an odd look in his eyes. They flickered to Lucifer before narrowing with displeasure. I guess someone doesn’t like sharing friends.

“I guess we will see, won’t we La Morte.” He was struggling to remain professional. Neither of us wanted to act like this. This was all just a show for our professional standpoints, but I hated it. I’ve had to act professional and put together all my life, no matter how hard I fought against my father to create a life for myself and my siblings who wanted out. That’s all any of us wanted. Lucifer was a good guy despite the title he carries. His daughter is also an amazing girl. I would have agreed to do this either way. But, too many eyes were watching in this moment, too many windows and vulnerability to be spotted for our soft realities of each other. My hand gripped his as pink and gold clashed together.

“You got a deal, Satan.” My smile turned poisonous as I gripped his hand. My magic branded his palm with a pink heart, healing itself just as quickly into a scar. I felt the searing pain of a tally mark etch into my back, ignoring the feeling and refusing to let it slip out that it even happened.

“Anyways, enough with the professional talk. If we are going to be a team, call me by my name. I’m (Y/n).” Whether they could tell or not, my smile was genuine when I reached to shake hands with Charlie, Lucifer still rubbing his hand where the heart was branded onto him. Alastor watched heavily, something else pulling the weight of his stare on me. There’s no way he knows about the reciprocating brand mark. What can he notice that I don’t have hidden?

“Your name is really beautiful! I’m glad I don’t have to call you Death every time I refer to you now.” Charlie smiled genuinely back. Trying his best to make it sound like he has never called me by my name before. My eyes raked over his figure, understanding it’s a secret he wants to keep.

“Well of course, any friend of Anth- I mean Angel Dust, is a friend of mine.” The sibling sense kicked in before I even had to turn around. Anthony just rolled his eyes at me. Quick movements led to my shoe being thrown at Anthony’s head, smacking him hard enough in the face to send him backwards.

“Che cazzo!” (What the fuck!) My head snapped 180 with my body facing Charlie still. Through a clenched jaw and wide wild eyes, I lectured Anthony under my breath.

“Schialla, stronzo.” (Chill out, Asshole.) He immediately stopped, slouching against the wall. Anthony muttered under his breath but at least it wasn’t as disrespectful and obvious. Husk found it amusing enough to stifle a laugh with Vaggie.

“So, what’s the war plans?” I beamed, excited to get murderous for a good cause. Those exorcists killed a lot of my people, pissing off my whole team and myself tremendously. That was our family they were murdering brutally, just so they could have their sick fun and somehow remain in the sky. That was something Charlie and I could get along with.

“About that…” Lucifer awkwardly smiled. You’ve got to be joking. They have nothing? My eyes glanced at Alastor, who was still staring at me. I narrowed my eyes on him, silently asking “you serious right now?” to which he looked amused and shrugged. Bastardo, it’s your skin also being risked here.

“Okay, what do I have to work with here?” Charlie reappeared with a stack of papers and dropped them into my hands. I blinked a couple times, gazing through the words scribbled on the papers. These were lousy attempts at battle plans or any sort of war plans.

“I’ll revise these and have them back to you soon. I do request to have somewhere nearby for me to stay, along with my members. Fifteen minutes away isn’t a good distance, doll.” Observing Charlie’s timid behavior. Lucifer peered behind his daughter, gauging my reaction to everything. I had my work cut out for me but any excuse to be involved in Anthony’s life again was something I was willing to risk everything for.

“Consider it done. Let’s take a stroll so I can show you where it’s at.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and excitedly held his arm out for me to take to walk with him. He was always trying his best to put on a front, but I know he’s still struggling. I mean we still meet and talk about ways for him to mend the broken relationship with Charlie. But, it feels like another negative energy was coming from where my other ally stood. When I turned to Alastor, his eyes were still locked onto my figure, wide and slightly terrifying. The look alone ran a chill down my spine. Why did it feel more exciting than terrifying?

“You coming?” Lucifer glanced backwards towards me, forcing me to peel my eyes away from the enticing ruby set still locked on me. Instead, my eyes met the pale yellow and glowing red set. The tension felt high, pushing me to leave immediately.

“Yeah, of course. Just taking the place in since I’ll be staying here, and potentially dying here.” I laughed sadistically as Lucifer frowned and elbowed me.

“Not funny. There is no way myself, or any of us, will let something happen to you. Unless you get redeemed, too.” He winked trying to sell the confidence he could get me into heaven with my brother. I doubt it, but no harm in trying.

Following down the hall, around back, there was a warehouse building directly behind it. It mirrored the looks of my warehouses that have been distributed in my territories. I could easily move a little over half of my people within this building, comfortably. The smile slowly dragged across my face before I could stop it. Lucifer was smiling back at me, satisfied.

“Che bello…” (How beautiful…) My whole body relaxed, feeling almost unnatural. I didn’t know how to handle how I was feeling at all. All this weight that’s been pushing down on my shoulders just lifted enough for me to breathe, to relax. No one has ever done something this tremendous for me. I could feel tears brimming my eyes, ripping me out of that relaxed feeling. Instead, it was replaced with a sense of dread and need to feel that relaxed again. Lucifer was smiling softly, hand snaked around my waist as he waited.

“You want to go see the inside, (Y/n).” A small smile remained as I allowed his arm to remain, feeling natural and familiar, but so wrong.

“We can’t keep doing this, Angel. We both know that!” Lucifer was having one of his episodes again. The thoughts of Lilith coming back any second, just to see him fucking some other girl and actually leave him type of thoughts. Not that I could ever understand what he’s going through and show sympathy, but rather I’m getting tired of fixing what I didn’t break.

“Listen, Luci, I know.” He stopped. In the poorly lit room, I could see his eyes glowing and a faint outline of his body shape standing on the opposite side of the bed. He knows what’s coming.

“What do you mean?” His eyes pierced mine. A hard stare swimming with all sorts of emotions. Panic was in the center of the tornado.

“Luci, we can’t keep having the same conversation every other day.” I sighed as he remained frozen in fear. One wrong move and I can destroy everything.

“I know you still love her. Nothing could ever change that. You have spent all of eternity together, created a beautiful daughter, ruled over hell. It’s not something you can just fix in seven years, and I never expected you to.” His eye twitched as his black hands started to curl in, making fists. I watched carefully how his breathing was now heavier. I didn’t want to make a bigger mess but I can’t mindlessly try and heal him again, no matter how badly I wanted to.

“What I did expect was some sort of progress to prove that you were learning to let go and love me.” It felt selfish how I was wording it, but my own abandonment issues were strangling me. It hurt to breathe and my vision was blurring. He huffed out, about to deny everything I’m saying.

“I know you love me, but not as much as Lilith.” My eyes froze on Lucifer in panic. Merda. (Shit.) I said her name.

“Don’t you ever say her name. Especially not like that. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have disappeared, abandoned me or Charlie. You don’t know anything.” I knew he didn’t mean it at the moment but my mom taught me one thing, never let a man tell you twice he doesn’t want you.

“It’s over, Lucifer.” I moved slowly to the door, refusing to turn my back to him and his eerie glowing eyes in the dark room, shutting the door quietly and carefully behind me.

During my walk back, it felt like a walk of shame. Opening and closing my door as quietly as possible to my office, sliding my back down the door. There is where I sobbed for hours, grieving a relationship where I actually felt loved, relaxed, and free from the impact my father has held on me all my life. This is where I vowed to never allow myself to get emotionally attached again.

•

(As always, the characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over! I love to hear feedback! I will also gladly try to write things for my supporters! I have put a LOT of research and planning into this series! I also researched Italian to try and make it as real as possible! Thank you for the love and I hope y’all have a great day! <3 :)!)

•

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yunholuvrr · 9 months

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closed doors pt.1

summary: poor yunho just can't resist himself, not when you sound like that.

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader, yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: this is just pure smut, yunho is a perv, voyeurism, cheating, unprotected sex, switch!yunho, idk what else to say i blacked out and wrote this in one sitting

part 2

Neither of you heard him walk in. As far as Yeosang was concerned, Yunho would be at work for 3 more hours, and for those 3 hours you were all his. He had some pent up tension that he'd rather take out on you when no one else could hear you scream his name.

Yunho couldn't hear you two either, at least not at first. He set his bags down as usual and made his way to the kitchen for a drink. Only in the silence of scanning the half empty fridge did he start to hear you. Your whining and moaning and unmistakable "Sangie please!" echoing through the apartment. Fuck.

He tries to pick up a soda and tune it out. He could go straight to his room and put on his headset and sink into a round of Valorant. He could forget all about how you were getting fucked senseless just a room over. Right?

"You can take it, right? You're doing so good for me baby," Yeosang grunts, loud enough for Yunho to hear as he shuffles to his room. You can only sigh some string of explicatives and Yunho wonders what he could've possibly been doing to you now. Did he switch positions? Is he using toys on you? Is he just so big that you go stupid? Is he bigger than Yunho? Could you take Yunho, too? Fuck.

He doesn't know how it happens, if you asked him he'd swear up and down that he'd never do such a thing, but within seconds he has his ear pressed to Yeosang's door. The sound of skin hitting skin is much clearer now, and his pace is brutal. Yunho palms the growing bulge in his pants, closing his eyes to try and imagine you more clearly. He probably has you folded in half, ankles on his shoulders and hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he ruins you.

"Sangie please .... I'm so close please," you mumble over and over, orgasm so close you can practically touch it. Yunho's eyes roll back behind his lids, one hand making its way under his pants. He tries to match his strokes to Yeosang's, but the way he's pounding into is nearly inhuman, only turning Yunho on more.

"Do you want to come, love?" A faint click and light buzz gets tossed into the mix. So he does have toys. You cry out even louder and Yunho can't help the small moan that leaves his lips. He instantly clasps his free hand over his mouth, shocked at himself. He barely moans when he's hooking up with someone, but you... you just sound so good getting fucked by his roommate. You sound like you were made to be filled up.

Yunho almost, almost, reaches his own orgasm, lost in his thoughts of you whining under him, pinned down by his hands as he fucks into you endlessly. But the persistent slapping stops, and when he refocuses he hears shuffling right behind the door.

"Let me get you a damp towel, stay there," Yeosang hums before sliding out to the hallway. A lone coke bottle is laying next to his door frame, you must've left it out there before he pulled you inside. He pads into the bathroom and starts running warm water, and that's when Yunho finally lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He had never moved so fast, hand scratching against his zipper as it flew from below his waistband, body silently and expertly slinking into his own room before freezing in place. His muscles relax at the sound of running water and he quietly sinks into his bed.

His dick is still painfully hard, and the adrenaline of almost being caught is only making him hornier. Shouldn't he feel ashamed? But the shame turns him on, too. No matter how much he tries to talk himself out of it, he can't help it. He runs his slender fingers along his member, desperately trying to build up to the pace his ears got accustomed to earlier. Your voice echoes through his head.

He doesn't know how long you've been standing there. Hell, he doesn't even know how long he's been touching himself, slowly coming closer and closer to the edge at the thought of you. You noticed Yunho's bags as you hugged your boyfriend goodbye. He had just gone to get some food, but you welcomed the short break to compose yourself. But when did Yunho get home? Did he know you were there? Might as well say hi, you thought.

Nothing prepared you for the sight in front of you now. He made the mistake of leaving his door a crack open, just enough for you to see him splayed out on his bed. Head tilted back into his pillows, right hand making quick work of his dick, which had to be the biggest you've seen in your life. His face is tinted a cute shade of pink, heart shaped lips parted in pleasure. He genuinely looks gorgeous so close to coming. Your body moved before your mind did.

"Yunho?" Lightly pushing the door open wider, you finally got his attention. He froze, his doe eyes staring at you for a second before shutting in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I was, um," he starts, but you cut him off.

"When did you get home?" He opens his eyes again, staring at you in confusion now. "Early enough to hear us, I suppose?"

You swear his fingers twitch around his dick, "I really didn't mean to intrude on you two..."

"Ah, so that's why you're jerking off by yourself instead?" You take a step closer, fully in his room now. You've been in here a few times, usually to play a game or two with both of them. The air was undeniably different than then though, dripping with unspoken need.

Yunho's beyond confused, but he makes no effort to move as he watches you slowly step closer. You would've left if you didn't want him, right? You wouldn't be so shamelessly staring at his dick if you didn't want him. Right?

"Were you thinking about me this whole time?" You gingerly sit on the edge of his mattress. Everything about this was so wrong, especially when Yeosang could come back at any second. But your brain was clouded by the sight of Yunho touching himself, eager to do the same.

"What are you doing?" His voice wavers, eyes following you. God, he looked so precious like this, scared and exposed but turned on all at the same time.

"You," he shudders at your instant response and you lean over him. There's a moment of hesitation, an acknowledgement from you both of how wrong this is. But neither of you could control yourselves.

He crosses the line first, reaching up and pulling you on top of him into a kiss. It wasn't romantic or thoughtful in the slightest, just spit and tongue and lust moving together. His other hand clinged to your hip, urging you to straddle him. You obliged, biting his lip before leaning back. You couldn't help but roll your hips on top of him, and his grip on you tightened.

"Fuck y/n," he groans, silently begging you to do it again. His cheeks are flushed bright red with shame now, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. He's so fucking pretty under you, you can't help but tease.

"How long have you wanted me like this?" You grind again. The thin sleep shorts you threw on are the only thing separating his aching dick from your heat, and wetness is already starting to seep through. He doesn't respond, only panting and bucking up into you frantically.

"Why'd you stop," he whines, breathless, as you still completely.

"You didn't answer me. How long have you wanted to fuck me, love?" You burn holes into his sweet doe eyes that look back at you, searching for some friction again. "Was today the first time you thought of it?"

"No," he whispers, even more ashamed.

"Then when?" You rest your weight back fully on top of him, only giving enough relief to make him answer.

"Since you started dating him, fuck," he bucks up again and you let him. You wonder how many time's he's listened to you get fucked senseless in the next room over. He's vocal now, groaning at the feeling of precum and your slick covering his dick. When he makes eye contact with you, his shameful sweet appearance has been replaced by something almost animalistic. You give in, knowing Yeosang could be back at any minute, and you need him just as much.

"You're much bigger than him, you know," you coo, sliding your soaked shorts to the side and lining yourself up, "but you don't know how to pleasure me like he does. Not yet, anyway."

"Please," he sighs at the sight, "you can do whatever you want to me. Please just do it already."

You only mumble a small "needy" as you lower yourself onto him, taking him fully. It's quick and it burns and you feel the slightest sense of guilt at being filled up by someone who isn't your boyfriend, but it's all worth it for the choked moans that escape Yunho's mouth. If you thought he was pretty earlier, he's fucking beautiful now. Eyes closed, brows furrowed in pleasure, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead in sweat, lips swollen and parted as he takes in shaky breaths. God, he's perfect.

It doesn't take long for you to start moving in tandem, rolling and bouncing like your life depends on it. One of his hands traces up your side to rest on your boob, squeezing harshly every so often. Before you know it, he plants his feet firmly behind you and pulls you down, setting his own pace. He wraps both arms around your torso and pounds into you relentlessly, nothing but the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

"Is this how he fucks you, hm?" He growls into your ear and you choke out a cry because yes, this is exactly how Yeosang was fucking you not even an hour before. And it felt so good, so so good, but this feels so much better. Yunho fills you up in no way you've ever felt before, and his frame is so big you couldn't escape if you tried.

He pulls your hair down, forcing you into the crook of his neck. All you can feel is him moving beneath you, grunting into your ear as he finally gets what he so badly wanted. And then he stills.

"Why'd you stop baby?" You look up, ears ringing from the sudden silence. But when you meet his gaze, he's staring at the door. Your stomach drops.

"It's not what it..." Yunho chokes out, frozen in place.

"I knew you liked him babe," Yeosang calmly walks into the room, cap covering his eyes, takeout bag still in hand, "but you could've just asked me. I would've said yes."

#yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho scenarios #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #yunho oneshot #this is sooo bad #but oh well

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motherofagony · 7 months

Text

A HEART FOR EATING // vol. 1

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: post outbreak!joel x f!reader setting: jackson, wy (think tlou pt. 2 minus the golfing) rating: mature, 18+, minors dni word count: 5.6k series summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing. chapter summary: life goes on after raiders infiltrate a routine patrol. you're a shut-in, and jackson residents tiptoe around your trauma. joel found you after the accident, but you don't know what to make of it. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), protective!joel, mentions of trauma (no s/a, i promise), blood, bodily injuries, death, shitty men, dissociation/triggers, alcohol, angst, sexual tension if you close one eye, the softest enemies to lovers you've ever seen vol. 1 // vol. 2 series playlist a/n: longtime listener, first time caller. yes, there will be smut — in due time. probably a slower burn than you're used to on tumblr dot com, but there will be porn galore, i promise. heavy on the hurt + comfort trope in this one. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy.

“Get the fuck up!”

The boot connects with your side again, the rounded toe slamming into ribs you’re sure are already broken. You’re trying to play dead, but it doesn’t exactly work when yelps are being kicked out of you. Old Yeller, of all fucking things, comes to mind.

But you’re not sick, not infected. Just wrong time, wrong place.

Blood pools sticky under your head. Voices are filtering in like an untuned radio, gathering static and making you nauseous. Like it’s all one bad hangover or a lucid dream in a realm too far.

“Where are the others?”

Someone else asks the question that you’ve been concentrating on. The knob turns, clearing the radio fuzz just so. You strain to hear, but you don’t dare open your eyes.

“Dead. Not shit on ‘em that was worth stealin’. We gotta fuckin’ go — just leave her.”

A vague twang of Boston wraps around his words. You’d forgotten what it sounded like, how the rs get caught in the back of the tongue and dropped. How the voweled aws are spit at you, the shell of your ear growing numb against the icy concrete.

Yes, you think. Fucking leave me.

The raider that’s been torturing you for what feels like hours groans as if it’s an inconvenience, an interruption to something he was thoroughly enjoying. Whatever he would’ve done, continued doing, taunts the crevices of your mind. He digs through your bag one last time, and you don’t know what he’s looking for or if there would have been anything at all that would have satisfied him the first time.

You remember a sliver of skin where his sleeve had bunched, revealing a shitty coupling of star tattoos on his wrist. You can feel your icepick heartbeat behind your eyes, and you wonder if it was a dare over a few beers. A matching tattoo with a lover. The thought lifts you up and out of the crushing burden of pushing air into clenched lungs, only for a moment. It’s no name to grab hold of, but it’s an identifier if you can make it out alive.

He’d crept up behind you while you were clearing a warehouse that you swore you’d be fine doing by yourself, pushing the cold barrel of something painfully familiar into the back of your head. He was tall, unflinching, unworried, too practiced. He helped you slip the straps of your backpack off your shoulders but staggeringly violent and unkind. Feeling you up for weapons with a disgusting leisure. As if you’d be hiding something gun-sized in your small back pocket.

You’d heard panic and screams outside, and you already knew. Voices outnumbered your friends, and it was almost – almost – funny to think that Tommy said the three of you would be one too many for patrol.

So, when exactly two gunshots hit their targets, it only took you seconds to figure out the score.

Something significant cracked in you then. Started in your chest and splintered to your heart, head, down to the tips of your toes. There was no fighting back, and you were next.

Now — fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, bloodied face, broken wrist, and one concussion later, here you find yourself. The tall one has a thick mustache, something sinister and villainous that seems too stereotypical even for this. At some point there had been a shift, and what started as a robbery now felt like killing for sport.

“Fine. Think she’s dead anyway.”

He kicks you one more time for the cinematic pleasure of it all.

This time you don’t wince, don’t feel a jerk or twitch betray you. The muscle in your jaw is so tense, the teeth grinding so hard into one another that you expect to open your mouth to a cloud of dust.

An agony you’ve only ever seen in movies is wringing every cell dry. It’s seizing, unrelenting, almost an exorcism in the tensing and writhing of it all. But you keep it beneath the surface, barely clinging to the little control you have.

You try to count the footsteps that are finally retreating, to breathe around the blood in your nose both dried and fresh. It feels like measuring the closeness of thunder and lightning, some kind of correlation with the distance of a storm.

The group trails outside, and heavier footsteps of your stolen horses lead them away. Onto the next. Breath idles in your chest, and the clarity that you think will come when you finally unstick your eyelids doesn’t. Everything feels swollen, scorched, raw. Nerve endings clipped and lapped up by the unrelenting lick of wind. A scream climbs up your throat, but the pain isn’t worth the exhale. And you don’t want them to come back for round two.

You drag the dead weight of your limbs out to inspect what you know to be true, and it’s nothing but bloody snow angels and twisted, awkward angles of your friends. You can’t even look at them, turning your head and squeezing your swollen eyes shut when you check for pulses that aren’t there.

Snowflakes collect on your lashes and drip pink down your face.

—

Daylight wanes, languid and impatient. It’s been hours trying to retrace your steps back to Jackson, the blood loss slowing you to a stop every five dizzying minutes. Your feet trick you into standing, only for your knees to buckle and bring you down into the snow. Teetering on the cliff of willfully alive and mercifully dead. There isn’t pain anymore, not really, and you’re grateful for the numbing cold, but you can feel your body threatening to cave in on itself.

Tears don’t come as much as you beg for them, for any type of release that’ll ground you. Enough time has ticked by that someone has to notice an absence of three, but you can’t be sure that you’re even on the right path anymore to meet them in the middle.

When they find you, if they ever find you, at least they’ll know you tried.

There’s a comfort in that, a warmth that reaches out and grabs you and folds you in like a blanket. It’s safe here, it says. Just lie down for a minute. And you don’t fight it.

Someone’s calling your name now, and it’s a gentle tug back into consciousness. There are frantic hands on your face, delicate and urgent when they take inventory of your wounds. When they say death greets you, maybe it’s this.

But there’s a Texas drawl that’s murmuring you’re okay, I’ve got you and I know, I know it hurts and shouting instructions to someone else that’s lifting you up, up, up.

Your fingertips scrape a stubbled jaw when you’re pulled away. The light dims like a blown-out candle. And you’re falling, grasping at anything, everything, nothing.

You forget the rest.

—

Ten months pass, dripping into spring, then summer, and meeting autumn at its doorstep.

Everything has healed, down to the last scratch. That day feels hazy, and you’d assume it was a hallucination if not for the two friends that didn’t come back with you. The recovery was just as strange, trauma shielding you from the gory parts but not the guilt. Never the guilt.

Sometimes, you test the memory, prod at it, but nothing new comes to the surface. No recollection of who they were, where they were going, if they were anything more than nameless thieves. It’s probably better this way, but there’s no way of knowing if that’s true.

Fistfuls of flowers collected on your porch, and they seemed to appear out of thin air because no one ever came with them. Anonymous condolences that didn’t want to be seen, and it was an easy guess as to why. You heard rumors, retellings of what happened without much accuracy, but there was nothing to say to correct them. Some of them were angry, and you let them be. Call it penance, undeserved or not.

Ellie would visit occasionally, sometimes Tommy. You let her play guitar without saying a word, let him bring you books to keep you occupied. Everyone else dodged you, and you didn’t know if it was discomfort or because you were the only one left alive to blame. Probably both.

Since then, they’d kept you busy elsewhere. Projects that hadn’t been projects before suddenly popped up. More hands in the stables for getting horses ready for patrol. Planting vegetables and flowers for food and morale. Playing doctor when the patrols would come back with minor injuries from staving off infected. Being underfoot at the Tipsy Bison, picking up shifts when there was a movie night or some string-lit illuminated get-together.

Slinking into the shadows and being the ambient background noise in everyone else’s conversations.

You didn’t have the heart to tell them that you had the farthest thing from a green thumb, that you couldn’t bartend for shit, that the most nurse-like thing you’d ever done was slap a band-aid on a skinned knee.

An otherness that weighed so heavy you thought it would be better to crush you. Poison that bloomed in the belly of a tight-knit community that didn’t know what shelf to put you on. Who felt like collective trauma was part of the deal, and this was just yours.

But it softened the blow of your abrupt uselessness. You let it happen. Becoming competent was better than peeking out from drawn curtains. Better than sleeping with your eyes open, watching everyone around you move on while you couldn’t.

While nightmares claw their way up your chest at night and leave you in a cold sweat, flicking on every light that’ll burn to make sure you’re really, truly alone.

The roar of laughter snaps you out of the trance, breaks the eye contact you were making with your fireplace. You wonder absently if you’d tuned out the rest or if everyone had finally huddled together in front of the projector down the road for tonight’s showing of whatever DVD was looted during this week’s patrol. You didn’t usually mind — sometimes even joined when Ellie had enough of your sulking and all but kicked your door in — but tonight feels like an organized, cruel punishment.

You pry yourself from your couch, knocking over the stack of books on your way to the coat rack. Anaïs Nin pierces you with a glare, rotting where you left her. You slip each arm into a heavy coat, tucking one of the books into your bag with a lone cigarette as a makeshift bookmark. It’s cold as fuck tonight, but maybe you’ll linger a little longer after closing down the bar. Maybe you’ll wait until the crowd outside dies down to sneak back into your house, light another fire, and count down the hours until your shift at the stables.

Bartending tonight should be quiet, hopefully only encountering a few regulars that usually kept to themselves and tipped you for doing the same.

You steal one more warm moment before opening the door and stepping into the flinching cold, taking note of the way words stutter and lose traction when your face registers with the nearby crowd. There always seems to be a vacancy of pleasantries. And you don’t exactly invite them.

Tommy gives you a sympathetic look, tipping his chin up in a half-nod. Ellie lifts a few fingers in a wave, knowing you don’t want the pity but hate the suffocation of nothing at all. You will the corners of your mouth to quirk in a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and force your legs into a normal pace, almost locking your knees so you don’t break into a run. The debt of an overdue visit with them burrows in your chest.

The Jaws theme song hums ominously, and you think it’s only fitting.

A few people litter the bar when you meet the cozy blanket of peanut-shelled air of the Tipsy Bison. A pool cue cracks against a ball and sends it clattering into a group of others, a low crackle of some country something crooning out of the jukebox. You shed your coat and your bag in the back, washing your hands under scorching water to shake some feeling back into your bones.

“Just a few tonight. Been slow – you’ll probably be out early. What’s playin’?”

You smile at the thick, syrupy Southern mama accent by your side. Cheryl is no-nonsense, usually slips you a little extra at the end of your shifts, and feigns ignorance of anything about the ugly parts of your past. All she cares about is that you’re eating. There is an undying gratitude for Cheryl.

“Ah. Jaws, I think.”

She seems to read your mind with a laugh, patting your shoulder affectionately like only a mother can.

“Maybe I’ll go join the sharks. Joel just got here, wants a whiskey ‘fore I head out. You know him,” Cheryl tuts, almost rolling her eyes but you know she likes the caretaker role if you’re any indication.

And you do. You do know him.

Joel keeps to himself almost as much as you do, maybe a little less when it comes to Ellie and Tommy. He’s sort of your catty-cornered neighbor, but not the sugar-asking kind. More like the kind that glances in your direction, holds your stare for a beat too long, and abruptly looks away before anything discernible can appear.

The closest you ever come to saying anything of substance to each other is when you ready his horse for patrols and intercept it when he’s back safe and sound. You try not to let him catch your gaze shifting to that shiny scar on his head, and you stifle down the question that’s none of your business.

Maybe he does the same for you.

And maybe he was there and saved you that day, but neither one of you has ever mentioned it since. You don’t know how, and there’s a brick wall around the subject that won’t let you. Enough time has passed that you figure he’d have said something if he gave a shit.

Yet, there’s a deep yearning for his approval, his attention. It’s a mystery even to you, when you think about how savagely indifferent you are to anyone else’s. But you think it’s the magnetism of having him as a witness. The way he could vindicate you and give you an alibi, a heroic complex, but he doesn’t.

So, the idea that he’s one of the patrons that you can count on one hand tonight… you can’t put a name to what it’s doing to you.

Cheryl makes sure that you’re okay, but she doesn’t linger. She packs up her things with haste, jogging through the cold to join her wife in front of the bonfire.

No one really pays you any mind as you start your closing duties early, and it’s doubtful that the seats will fill any more than they are as the party picks up outside.

Joel sits at the corner of the bar that faces you, and he’s down to a knuckle’s length of whiskey. If he were anyone else, you might wonder why he’s not at the bonfire — but it’s Joel. Social anythings are like a second plague to him.

The thought of having to refill his drink vibrates in the back of your mind, and lead fills your stomach. Small talk that you never quite have with him. It dissipates just as quickly, when you see the way he’s fixed on the sweat gathering on his glass instead of anything else, and when a gust of wind comes in as the door opens.

Max. Anxiety snaps in your rib cage like a rubber band. Something acrid hits the back of your throat and you think it might be blood the way your teeth connect with the soft tissue of your cheek.

Max had been a recurring character in your bed once. Before. It was never more than convenience, and the way you fucked wasn’t love, not even close. Liberating to think that you never neared the edge of feeling anything except his hand pressing your face into a pillow, performing orgasms that never came.

There’s no carcass of affection left, so devoid of emotion for him that it feels like a severed limb.

He’s all ego and athletic strength, sauntering up to the bar with a gait that reeks of hours of pregaming. There’s a permanent sneer when he addresses you, a coldness that has nothing to do with the weather.

“Tequila. Two doubles.”

He’s the type to twist the knife of your tragedy in even deeper, making sure to hit all vital organs. The first to question what more you could have done to save his friends, blaming you for leaving them there to die as if they weren’t dead the moment raiders showed up. As if you weren’t almost dead. Anything you’ve said in defense is inconceivable, an excuse, an admission of guilt. He mourns at your expense and often.

Jackson trudges forward, but Max forces you to stay in grief and remember.

“I think you’ve had your fill this week. Drank through your ration on Tuesday, remember?” you say coolly, but a twinge of fatigue colors your tone, giving you away. You aren’t in the mood, and Max finds it easy to light flame to your resolve as-is.

Maria spends hours of careful inventory, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’ve been instructed to cut off a greedy drunk. The vice, the urge to drink in an apocalypse doesn’t really align with the limited stock, unfortunately.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly see Maria around, do you?” A jeer at face value, but you decide in the beat of silence that follows that rule enforcement isn’t worth it tonight. “Sounds like you’ll think of something. And you fuckin’ owe me one, don’t you? Or would you prefer I collect on that another time?”

It’s not worth it. You’re dropping your glare, squaring your jaw, lining up two glasses so that the rims clink. But the way your skin prickles, there’s an unwelcome visitor in his stare, an x-ray vision that you wished Max didn’t have.

Somewhere down the bar, glass slams against wood and something you know to be amber-colored sloshes.

You try to steady the angry tremble that overcomes your hands as you upturn the liquor bottle. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

He holds the ration card to you, taunting you by pulling back when you reach for it, only to smirk and flick it toward you, uncaring of where it lands. You shove it into the mouth of the register with the violence you wish you were brave enough for.

“You can leave now.”

“That so? Mouthy now that you have an audience?” Max gestures cruelly to the grand total of four patrons, five if you counted Johnny Cash.

It stings, but dully. You’ve heard worse – even if not to your face – and it’s all kind of anti-climatic if you considered the low-budget production they always try to make out of you. The words eventually all sound the same, nothing punches quite the way they intend. Still, your cheeks burn as if on cue, and —

“She told you to get the fuck out.”

A low timbre erupts, easily mistaken as pure venom. There’s a sway in the way your senses glitch and then still, and reality swirls at the edge of your periphery. Pool balls stop their roll, murmured chatter ceases, and even the fucking jukebox settles on an instrumental to lean in and listen.

You dare to look over at Joel, whose demeanor looks more akin to statuesque and threatening than his curved slouch when you first clocked in. He’s standing, flexing his fists so hard that you think they might shatter.

Max backs off but subtly – you can see the way his puffed chest deflates even though his glare doesn’t. He finishes off one tequila before backing up with the other dangling in his fingers, both hands turned palm-out in mock surrender.

A deep annoyance plucks at his brow, but he knows he’s flirting with a black eye.

Max flashes a middle finger, lets his grip relax after downing the glass in his hand, and it crashes to the floor with a wincing shatter. He’s gone before you can string together any curses, and would it have mattered anyway?

Then, there’s scattering, the bar flies wordlessly agreeing that anywhere is better than the awkwardness of being here. Cards thrown down, beers drained, and there’s an uneasiness with the way they shuffle outside towards the rest of the group. A dance around the broken glass that isn’t their problem. You pretend not to notice, though you try to hide the redness that stains your cheeks as you bring a dust pan over to the mess.

You feel eyes on you and, all too suddenly, you realize that Joel didn’t follow them.

“Careful. Here, lemme do that.”

He’s kneeling, taking the pan from you. Knuckles brush yours a little too long and electrify, zapping you. You mutter something like thanks and it’s too ungrateful, too tired. A woodsy scent fills your nose, and you’re hard-pressed not to lean into his collar and bookmark it.

Glass slips into the trash with a tinkling, shimmering sound. You’re already back behind the bar, hands busying with something else, tidying up the already-tidy. Letting him slip outside with the crowd, heavy with satisfaction that he came to your rescue yet again.

But he’s sat back down, watching you with an odd intensity. He’s never assessed you like this, at least not that you’ve seen. A different sort of undressing than what Max gives you. You meet his eyeline warily. Vulnerable, waiting for your predator’s jaw to unhinge and devour you whole.

“He always talk to you that way?”

A quiet, lethal question hangs in the air, so quiet that you could’ve chalked it up to your imagination. But evidenced by the white-knuckled grip Joel has on his glass, the measured way he brings it to his lips, it was real. Controlled, scary even. But real.

Your mouth opens to answer, then closes. You consider in a beat’s time how it would sound to laugh it off, then stop yourself. It would be too forced, too desperate of a sound to be convincing. You’ve never been the unfeeling, unaffected type.

It’s clear that he knows the answer, has probably seen it with his own eyes, but it’s like he wants a green light to set his sights on some other more sinister and deserving prey.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s been through a lot,” you say, half to yourself. It’s easier this way.

“Does matter. So’ve you,” Joel says, even quieter, like he’s trying to contain an angry edge that threatens to bleed out. The calm is almost worse. In a way, you wish he would loosen the leash on his rage. Or break something to satisfy the urge in you that wants to do the same – you’d give him permission to do that. This is too unreadable and ambiguous, too much room left for agonizing interpretation in how he grits his teeth and pulses that muscle in his taut jaw. You want to yell, let out what’s long pent-up. Yes! Yes, it does fucking matter!

But you don’t. You keep the rag tight on the lip of the pint glass in your hand, rotating it past the point of needing to be cleaned. The rub of the microfiber cloth makes you itch, and your teeth scrape again at the inside of your cheek.

It leaves your mouth before you can catch it and shove it back down.

“Why do you care?”

Joel looks up at you now and you think that you’ve already overstepped during your first, real fucking conversation. He finishes off the whiskey and puts it back down carefully. He stands up, each slow step over to you spiking your blood pressure, your breath shifting into neutral.

It’s the way he’s fixated on you, a litmus test for any sarcasm. The way a chill creeps into the base of your spine and slithers up each vertebrae despite the warmth you feel below your waist. And when he comes behind the bar, reaches for the glass in your hand and puts it down gently, you wonder if that tug has always been there.

Fuck.

“You think I don’t care?”

Tiny hairs at your nape stand at attention in a near-salute. The web of intrusive thoughts tangles between you, and you’re acutely aware that this is the closest you’ve ever been to Joel Miller – that you’ve been conscious for. That feeling rushes back and bursts in your chest, the comforting honey in his voice that’s been haunting you since he found you crumpled in the snow.

The omnipresent, sharp tang of whiskey sticks to the slightly graying stubble that you want to reach out and touch. That you want to feel the scrape of in places that makes heat pool deep in your belly. His flannel is unbuttoned at the top, the column of his throat ridged and tense.

Focus.

“Why are you saying this now?” you say, and you want to hold your ground but his admission is akin to mesmerizing.

He thinks for a minute, his eyes smoothing over every angle in your face. They look past you, just over your shoulder, like he’s asking himself the same thing.

“Knew you could handle it. ‘Til you couldn’t anymore.”

There it is. You let it sink in, clicking that last piece into place. Always observing you from a safe distance, the buzz of something unsaid ringing in your ears when he’s around. How he listens to your interactions, but never too closely. Watching for weak spots. And tonight was the weakest of them all, letting yourself be humiliated by the only person that knew where to bite just right.

You feel laid bare, too seen. Pissed that he can witness your struggling, thrashing, drowning with outstretched arms and kicking feet and decide when and if he’ll pity you.

And this time, a laugh does slip out – humorless and breathy.

“The same way you can handle whatever’s making you drink alone on a Friday night? Don’t act so holier than thou, Joel. I’m the wrong one.”

“Watch it.”

You don’t mean it. Not really. But you’re so angry, a wasps’ nest that’s been taunted and poked at after being left to its own devices for too long. Sometimes violence feels more intimate. Safer.

And he’s using that gravelly, terse tone with you of all people, and you want to fucking lose your mind.

When he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you and waits, they leave their home in a wave. Burying stingers where you know they’ll hurt. Once more, with feeling.

“Are you looking for a ‘thank you’?”

Joel’s mouth quirks, but it isn’t a smile. It only stokes the fire, and you know what he’s doing. Letting you win, begrudgingly because you’re being an ass. But you haven’t had a win in the last ten months, only loss after devastating loss. He’s throwing you a raft.

“No. Just tryin’ to help, ‘s all.”

Your nostrils are flaring in sharp inhales that you can’t control, and you physically jab at him, your own tightly wound chest dragging in the hive for a final, practiced nosedive. “I don’t fucking need your help, Joel.”

He’s snatching your wrist, holding it in a vise, but there’s a flinch in his expression. Joel hardens, sliding that cool armor back into place. Sizing you up one more time, committing you to memory. A curt nod, plucking that chord of roughness in his tone that makes you ache.

There’s a glare you’ve never seen from him, like disappointment and disdain wrapped up neatly in one package. Delivered with a dagger straight to your heart.

“We’ll see. Not s’good at that, are you?”

And it’s a KO you allow, one you’ll lay with. But he’s leaning in, invading your space. You move to retreat and cower, the way you’re accustomed to, but Joel’s grabbing a fistful of your shirt and fastening you in place. His mouth’s at your ear as if he’s telling you a secret.

“Good luck bein’ a fuckin’ martyr.”

The pressure loosens, as does his grip, dissipating like some ghostly presence. He leaves without another word, and something inside you snags and unspools.

—

You don’t see Joel for days.

Three days to be exact, torturous and fluid days that feel like trickling sand, but blend together in an indistinguishable slideshow when you zoom out. You time your breaks perfectly at the stables so you don’t run into him, and you ask Cheryl to cover for you on Tuesday, ignoring the strange look she gives you – the resident workaholic.

It’s a sort of avoidance that you don’t want to acknowledge or look directly in the eye. If you did, it would mean that Joel affected you more than you want to admit. Or that he’d sized you up in an expert way that a categorical stranger shouldn’t be able to.

You should be livid, and you are… in a way. But mainly you want to shrug your skin off, your unease for being so dissected by him. Just unzip it all and let it pool at your feet, stepping out of the pile one leg at a time. The pinch, the untethering of you and the man that could read you without translation.

And when it’s 9 o’clock and you’re making tea as you trudge through a book without really reading anything, you glance outside at the house across the street and it’s so dark that you think it may have swallowed him whole.

Or he’s hiding from you, too.

—

It’s finally Thursday, and you can’t put it off any longer. You’re running out of food, you promised Tommy you’d lend a hand with feeding the horses – and there’s a dull itch to see Joel again. You don’t even know what you’d say, if he even wants to bother with you after the other night. Part of you hopes that you fall backwards into the acquaintance of saying nothing, that you have permission to rewind past whatever this nagging feeling is.

It’s quiet outside – a lazy day. The snow on the ground is melting, patchy in spots where sunlight or kid-feet caught it at just the right angle. The greenhouses are so fogged and frosted over that you’re grateful you can’t see the death-rot inside. It’s not quite growing season yet, but close, and you long for the added distraction in your day if this is the alternative.

Anything to pass the time and not think about Joel and his hands touching yours. The fabric of your shirt oozing between his knuckles when he forced you chest-to-chest.

When you make it over to the barn, his horse is gone and there’s almost – almost – a twinge of relief. You’ll be done before he gets back from patrol. You won’t have a chance to swallow the apology that will rise in your throat like bile, but maybe it’s for the best.

You’re elbow deep in feed when there’s a yelling that cracks in the air. You freeze, waiting to hear a suffix of children’s laughter, but it doesn’t come. There’s a confused sort of shouting, and the gate at the border of Jackson slams and rattles like you’ve never heard before.

Shaky hands wipe at your pants, and you step out, a hand shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun.

Joel is slumped atop his horse, upright but hardly. There’s a cut somewhere on his head that streams a blurry red, and the horse whines when Tommy sprints to meet it.

“It’s Joel! I need some fuckin’ help here!”

And without fully connecting the dots or measuring the severity, you just run. Colliding with the crowd that’s formed, shoving elbows and shoulders as if in a trance. Like something’s pressing you from behind, throwing all its weight into pushing you forward.

You blink and you’re helping Joel down, Ellie’s tattooed forearm somewhere in the jumble of limbs. Tommy’s jean jacket stiff from the cold.

You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re pale as a ghost. The moisture strips from your mouth, joints moving as if by marionette. Blood is already drying and caking in the creases of your hands. Knowing it isn’t yours makes you feel sick.

“‘M fine, Jesus Christ,” Joel coughs, a jagged edge in his throat that sounds anything but. There’s something underneath his coat that’s soaking through, blossoming a dark stain on the front.

Images keep shifting every time you blink, like you’re losing time in between and someone’s slamming the fast-forward button until it jams. Joel groaning on a makeshift stretcher. Ellie’s frenzied feet following as they take him to his house.

The tall one on top of you, squeezing your windpipe.

Your head cracking against the pavement.

Two gunshots firing.

Snow in your bloodied, matted hair.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. I know, I know it hurts.”

Ringing grows loud and shrill in your ears. Tommy’s in front of you, calling your name. Shaking your shoulders.

“– need you to go fix him up –”

And you’re falling back into the present, vision shifting back into focus. You’re nodding, clinical now. You’ve seen worse, and strangely, that’s comforting.

“– whatever supplies you need, I trust you –”

The weight of Tommy’s confidence steadies you, tying up the loose ends that have untwined deep inside. You run through the mental checklist of what’s in your medical bag at home – stashed in your closet on the very top shelf. Bandages, antibiotics, sutures. But if you’re dealing with a bite…

“I got it. Promise. Keep everyone out, alright? I’ll let you know.”

He pauses, catching up with the subliminal thing that waits in the air between you. Wariness paints his gaze, and you know he knows what you’re afraid to say.

Tommy nods, but you’re already running.

#my writing #a heart for eating #ahfe #outbreak!joel #jackson!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #motherofagony

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saintescuderia · 1 month

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pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, a Spanish man, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

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simon-sehs · 2 months

Text

proud (18+) pt 2

tags / cw: f!reader, fluff, (bare bones) smut, praise kink, alcohol mention, happy ending, marriage mention, birth mention, baby mention

You should have expected it, really.

Even though you were pissed at him, Ghost was once again the protagonist of your wildest dreams.

And man, were they wild…

You woke hours later, around nighttime, pent up and horny. This time, you didn’t bother with the self relief. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of being in your mind, even if the cruel reality was just you leaving yourself out to dry.

With a sigh, you dug out the bottle of whiskey you had hidden in your dresser for a rainy day and made your way to the roof for drinking and contemplating. Maybe you weren’t cut out for the task force. Or… maybe Ghost was just a fucking prick who needed a good punch. Either way, you found yourself with no answers beneath the stars.

And then you heard the door to the roof open.

Fuck.

“You know you’re not supposed to be up here, soldier.”

You didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. “Sorry…” you said weakly. You felt pathetic, like a kicked mutt.

Ghost sighed and sat down next to you. You tensed. What the fuck was happening? And then he reached a hand out for your bottle. Well, it was fun while it lasted. But instead of confiscating it, he pulled up his mask, taking a long swig before setting it down. Fuck, his lips are so pretty.

“How did you know I was up here?” You asked.

“I came by your room and found it empty. Checked the CCTV footage and traced your steps.”

“…Oh.”

Silence settled over you two. Until…

He cleared his throat and sighed. “You were right. I'm sorry.”

“…Wait, what?” You asked, confused.

“Thing is… I am proud of you. It’s why I push you so hard... harder than I should. I don’t show it well.” He took another drink.

You sat there, dumbfounded. This wasn’t happening. Was he actually… apologizing?

He must have seen your face and sighed. “Look, I’m not heartless. I may not be the most caring lieutenant, but… I care.”

Your face softened. Okay, now he was… starting to make some sense. You wanted to stay mad at him, but your stupid little crush had you folding like a house of cards. Or maybe it was the alcohol. “You do, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, though. We’re not supposed to even be up here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“And I mean what I said. I’m proud of you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you.

You could feel wetness coating your underwear, still suffering from your earlier budding arousal. Oh, fuck.

You reached for the bottle of whiskey at the same time he did, fingers grazing against each other. You both pulled back instinctively. You met his gaze, and found yourself lacking for breath once more. His stare was intense, and it was… hungry. Wanting.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you were still dreaming, because the next moments were a blur. Your lips on his—or did he initiate it?—his hands cupping your jaw, while yours caressed his neck. You found yourself laying down there on the roof, as his lips worshipped your skin, his words appraising you…

“So fuckin’ beautiful, so strong… you don’t understand how proud you make us… me…”

You moaned and his eyes flickered to yours, the gears spinning in his mind. “You live for it, don’t you? The praise… begging for everyone to know just what a good girl you are…”

Oh, fuck.

“S-Simon…” You moaned, before a soft yelp left your lips due to the sensation of his big fingers against your folds.

He rubbed along the curvature, before pulling away and staring at his fingers. Even in the dark, and at this distance, you could see the light from the nearby flood-lamps shining off of the discharge on his fingers.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked.” He groaned.

You watched intently as he slowly sucked his fingers, before grabbing the whiskey and taking a swig to chase it down.

He made you come with his fingers. Then his tongue. And then like a dream come true, he was stuffing his dick into you.

“Fuuuck, that’s it baby… takin’ me so well… c’mon, let me in some more, love…”

His thumb stroked your clit, making you twitch and flutter around his cock as he pushed further in.

“Ahh, Jesus…” you moaned.

The bastard chuckled before leaning in to whisper. “I prefer Simon…”

If this was another of your wet dreams, you didn’t want to wake up. You found solace in the fact that a billion stars were bearing witness to this moment of you getting fucked lovingly. His face in your neck, his hands scrambling to grope every inch of your body…

No, this was much better than a dream.

You don’t hear the phrase again until years later. You’re in a hospital bed, body aching and swimming from medicinal drugs.

“I’m proud of you, love…”

You almost don’t hear them at first, too busy staring at the infant boy in your arms. After a second, you glanced up, meeting your husband’s brown eyes, so full of love and warmth… for your son… and for you.

[part one] [part two]

taglist: @the-pan-liquid

#simon riley #cod #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #THIS PACING IS SH*T SORRY #my writing

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nevvdrinksteaa · 5 months

Text

favors pt. i

~~~

i think that this sounded better in my head, but i went ahead and wrote it anyways because i really couldn’t stop thinking about it. also kinda leaned into the horny vibe i was feeling, i’ve never written smut but i’ve read a lot and i think i could do it lmao

~~~

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

prompt: idea from sweet child o’ mine @macfrog (it’s amazing i suggest you read it)

you’re abby’s babysitter and mike can’t pay you just quite yet and he asks if he can do anything for you in return and you mention that you need a date to your brother’s wedding.

warnings: uhmm fluff, angst, suggestive content, i think that’s it, let me know if i missed something!

word count: 1.7k

PART TWO HERE

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waking up from your uncomfortable position on the couch, you heard the rain pattering on the window. The cold air suddenly swarming your body as you woke from your slumber. You reach over and tap your phone on the coffee table, watching the screen light up and checking the time. 5:48 AM Mike should be home in about 30 minutes. You reluctantly decided to slowly remove the blanket, standing up and reaching your hands in the air, stretching your stiff body as much as humanly possible.

You decided to help Mike and start cleaning up the mess you and Abby made from your activities. You start picking up the crayons, markers, and pencils and place them in the pink basket you picked out for Abby hours before coming over, smiling at how she colored in the paper hearts that were stuck to the sides, picking up the loose paper and sticking it in a neat pile on the desk on the dining table for Abby to use when she wakes up. You walk directly towards the hallway, taking clothes from the hamper and starting a load of laundry. Softly chuckling to yourself about how manly the laundry detergent Mike picked out smelled, you filled up the cap with the green goop and threw it in the washer.

Mike walked through the door as you were finishing up the dishes, drying off the big bowls you and Abby used to make brownies. He kicked his shoes off by the door and placed his keys on the little hook above the light switch. He looked at you for a few moments, taking in how cute you looked dancing to the soft music that came from your phone, how pretty your hair looked slightly knotted from your nap on the couch, the shorts you were wearing creeping up your legs with every step you take.

Mike loved watching you, in the least creepy way possible. He adored everything about you, taking the little extra time he had to notice things he never had any interest in noticing in anyone else before. You were so different and he was so infatuated, interested in getting to know you, getting to know your interests, getting to know your body. He thought about you constantly, something about you made him feel like a teenage boy. He was deep in thought when you turned around, yelping when you noticed him staring at you.

“You want to take a picture? Some people say they last longer” you say smirking, crossing your arms at the brown-eyed boy.

He chuckled softly at your flirtatious comment, a light pink dusting spreading across his tired face, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You were listening to music and didn’t hear me come in.”

“It’s okay, I was just finishing up some dishes, I didn’t think it would’ve been fair to leave you with the brownie mess” His ears perked up with excitement “You made brownies?”

He faked surprise, ‘Of course, you made brownies’. You were always doing extra things, it was his favorite thing about you, always doing the most and expecting nothing in return.

You grabbed a brownie for yourself before sliding the plate over to the pretty boy. You stayed leaning against the island, smirking to yourself when you saw Mike's eyes dart to your chest.

“Abby and I made them, she said that she wanted to surprise you when you got off work”

“I swear that kid is only nice to me when you’re here,” he said, partially to you and partially to himself.

Rolling your eyes “You know that isn’t true, she adores you”

“I would strongly disagree, She told me I was the ‘dumbest person ever’ when I told her she needed to eat more than just spaghetti and pizza”

“To her defense, she ate brownies today, that's more than spaghetti and pizza”

“I cannot believe you would rather agree with a 10 year old than me” He put a hand over his heart, sighing heavily to show he was hurt by your words. “I always knew you liked Abby more than me.”

You looked at him, eyes wide at his comment. “Sorry, I thought it was clear that I liked her more than you” you paused, for dramatic effect “I never tried to keep it a secret.”

He laughs grabbing a second brownie, and moving away from the kitchen island toward the couch. “You coming?”

“I could be” you winked, smirking at him. He shook his head, thinking of all of the ways and positions he really could make you cum.

You start to follow him, scolding yourself for flirting with him, staying behind for a few seconds to click the lid back on the Tupperware container.

You walk around to the left side of the couch, opposite to where Mike was sitting. After your comment, you got nervous, thinking you pushed it too far. You started noticing the quietness that suddenly arose and not knowing what to say to make things less awkward.

Mike was the first to break the silence, “How was she today?”

“She was good, I was able to pull her away from her drawings long enough to watch a movie. We watched Coco and the end made her cry, then she called me a monster for making her watch it and walked right back to the bedroom to color” You giggle at the memory of the evening you had with the younger sibling.

“Sounds like Abby” Mike sighed “At least she’s warming up to you enough to sit and watch a movie with you, I can’t remember the last time we sat down for a movie”

You grabbed his hand, noticing the sadness that started to form on his face. “You know she loves you, she talks about you constantly, you’re front and center of every one of her drawings. You’re her favorite person”

He smiled softly at your kind words, grateful to have you there to comfort him. “Thank you”

“Of course, that’s what I'm here for”

“Technically you're here because you babysit my sister, but it does make me feel good to think that you’re here only for me”

“Yeah yeah Schmidt, keep telling yourself that”

“Speaking of” Mike trailed off, “It’s going to be just a little bit longer before I can pay you, the new job doesn’t offer insurance so I have to pay for everything out of pocket and Abby was just sick-” You cut him off

“Mike you know I’m not worried about it” he sighed and you could tell by the look on his face that he was still bothered by not being able to pay her.

It had been three weeks since you started babysitting for Mike, coming early to help him make dinner before he leaves for work and staying late to get Abby dressed and feeding her before driving her to school so Mike could get more than an hour of sleep.

You enjoyed helping Mike and loved taking care of Abby, you were the oldest child in your family, so you were used to caring for people.

Mike hated it, it made him feel so guilty. He felt like he was taking advantage of your kindness, promising you every day that it would be only a little bit longer before he could pay you.

“You know, if you feel bad you could just repay me with a favor”

Mike perked up. His mind was filling with ideas of what could fall out of your pretty little lips. He would do anything you asked him to, make you dinner, give you a massage, eat you out for hours and hours. ‘God, why was he suddenly so horny?’

“What kind of favor are you thinking?” slightly squeezing his hand that was placed across your soft thighs. As soon as the words came out of his mouth he felt like a cheap whore, suddenly nervous that he was coming onto you so strong and you wouldn’t reciprocate.

“As tempting as this favor is,” you say placing a hand on his chest “I was thinking something else”

He was suddenly so embarrassed. He quickly pulled his hand away, placing it in his lap, and looking away from your beautiful face. You felt bad seeing a pitiful look on his face, hurting Mike’s feelings was the last thing you wanted to do.

“My brother is getting married in two weeks and I need a date.” He was ecstatic, pushing his horny feelings aside, he could picture it in his head; you two hand in hand, his tie matching your dress, sharing a kiss after your first slow dance-

“My boyfriend has a work conference and he has to be at” You have a boyfriend? “and my family is so annoying if I know if I come without a date, all they would do is tell me that I’m wasting my life away and I’m going to forever be so lonely and-” You have a boyfriend? How could he not know that?

“Mike, are you listening to me? If you’re uncomfortable pretending to be my boyfriend then I could always ask someone else”

“I’ll do it” Against his better judgment, he agrees, hoping that something could come out of it

“Really? Oh my god, thank you so much!” You lean over and hug him “You’re really saving my ass”

“Anything to help” he laughs, trying to make it seem like you didn’t just stab him in the chest with a casual mention of your boyfriend.

Suddenly, your alarm goes off and you pull away from the hug. Mike felt cold at the loss of contact.

“It’s 7:30, you should get to bed” you state standing up from your spot on the couch “I’ll get Abby ready from school so you can catch up on some sleep, I’ll text you the details of the wedding after I drop her off”

Mike watched as you walked away, feeling like he just got punched in the gut. You didn’t feel the way he did and god that was embarrassing. He never had time to even think about a relationship and the first time in a long time he does, the girl in question has a boyfriend.

Mike let out a deep sigh and got up, heading towards his bedroom ready to close his eyes and forget about the miserable conversation. As he walks past Abby’s room he notices you crouched beside her bed, softly shaking her awake.

Fake boyfriend or not, at least he knows he won’t be pretending about his feelings for you to your family.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #nev writes

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lovelybrooke · 1 year

Text

Family Sacrifices Pt.2 (Yandere Platonic Yandere Sully Family)

Read Part 1 here.

The first thing you saw were bright lights as your ears filled with beeping.

You woke up to Norm checking your vitals, spitting out the water he was drinking in shock at your sudden consciousness. He rushed to do some tests, mainly on your reaction time to make sure your brain was working properly. The light that shined in your eye hurt bad, but you didn't dare tell Norm about your splitting headache, knowing if you did so you'd give him a heart attack.

Soon after Norm explained your condition to you. You've been in a coma for around 3 months. You were almost killed that day in the water, your family being devastated. Every week or so, Jake would come and visit you, which is where the many, many gifts came from, all handmade. They sat on a table near your bed, and you could tell what was made by who by the craftmanship.

After your attack, you were flown off to the research base for urgent care. You were in surgery for a few hours, it being a struggle to get the bullet out without damaging your lungs. Thankfully, they were able to remove it without damaging any vital organs, however you didn't recover as fast as they hoped. Instead, you were in a coma, terrible news to the family who wished for you to come home to them.

You didn't know how to feel about all this, in your head it felt like a flash, everything happening in a few seconds. One moment you were gasping for air surrounded by your family, the next you were with Norm. You were confused more than anything, maybe it was shock. Norm could tell you were lost by the vacant expression on your face, gently taking your shoulder to comfort you.

"Don't worry (Y/N), recovery shouldn't take that long. In no time you'll be back home in no time." Suddenly, he gasped, giving you a dorky smile, "Oh, Jake should be here in a day or two. I bet you'll be happy to see him huh?"

You nod, clearly in another world, but Norm didn't seem to mind. Left to get you some food, coming back with a sandwich, Jell-O, and some juice, which you inhaled.

Felling content after your meal, you go attempt to get up from your bed, being halted by a sharp pain in your chest. Norm stops you quickly, moving you back down to your bed.

"Woah, hold up their kid, you're still recovering, believe it or not." She smooths out your blanket and give you a stern look, as stern as Norm can muster, "don't get up without anyone's help, got it?" You nod, getting a pat on the shoulder before he walks out of the room to get some doctors.

---

Recovery was the worst. At least in Jake's opinion.

Having to watch you struggle to breath as you move even a few small steps causes Jake pain of his own. Of course, he was ecstatic to her news of your recovery, and it took everything to keep him from telling his family, but he didn't want them to overwhelm you. Jake knew if Neytiri or Neteyam heard about you waking up, they'd be on their Ikran's before he could get a world out.

Jake watches from a distance with Norm as you and another doctor do breathing exercises together. Norm explained it to him, something about building up strength, he wasn't really listening. All he cared about was making sure you were okay to be sent back home with them, but Norm quickly shot that down.

"I'm just saying Jake," Norm whispers, pretty loudly due to their height difference. "I'd be dangerous to take them so soon." Jake's eyes don't leave you. "Just think of all the factors. Flying on an Ikran, swimming, hell, even just walking too fast can knock the wind out of them." Jake side eyes him.

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of my child?" Jake grumbles out. Norm jumps, surprised at the sudden hostility. Jake's eyes were back against his head and his tail was upright and ridged.

"No! No, of course not." Norm shakes his head, "Its just-"

"It's fine Norm, don't worry." Jake pats him on the back, a little too aggressive judging by Norm's slight discomfort.

"I'll take them home tonight." Jake smiles, "The kids miss them." Norm chuckles and nods, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as Jake walks over to you.

---

You were asleep the whole Ikran ride. Jake took you late at night, packing all the medicine and machines you needed. Most of them were portable and could be used without an outlet.

Neyetam was waiting for him on the docks by their home. He shot up when he saw him, rushing over to help his father off his Ikran.

Neyetam never looked directly at you, avoiding you small body. He was afraid. Afraid that if he looked at you, he would see you bloody and broken, begging for him to help you, and he would be unable to do anything.

Jake carefully shifts you into his arms, shushing you when you stir in your sleep. "Neteyam." Jake calls. "Take your siblings stuff into the Marui." Neteyam doesn't bat an eye as he moves to take your belongings inside.

Inside the Marui, Neytiri was restless. She just got her other children asleep, giving up with Neteyam as she knew he wouldn't listen. She could focus as she passed around the room, waiting for her husband to walk in.

"Ma'Jake." She says nearly out of breath as he walks in with you, looking at your small frame with tears in her eyes. She cradles the part of your face that isn't blocked by the oxygen mask, her smile being mixed with a sob as she feels your warmth in her hand.

"They oxygen mask." Jake watches you carefully, "Its bigger cuz they need more air."

Neytiri ignores him, "Let me hold them." Jake doesn't question as he moves you to her arms. He's reminded of when you were much younger, when you'd fall asleep after a long day of playing, and Neytiri would lull you in her arms, singing you songs as she just watched you breathe.

Jake smiles as he leaves the Marui to help his son, happy his family is finally back together.

---

The days weren't exactly the same, but none of the Sully's really minded.

Jake was quick to explain your condition and how they had to be extra safe with you. No ruff housing, no swimming or flying, and no putting you in any danger. His children didn't argue, not wanting you to be sent away again.

You had to do treatments every day before you went to bed. Most of the time Jake would help you with it, him or Neytiri was she learned how to work all your machines.

Today however, both of your parents were busy, and while you were going to do it yourself, Neteyam offered to help.

"I know I'm not dad, but I don't want you doing it on your own."

"Okay." You pat the spot next to you on the ground, "Come, sit."

You hand him another mask, moving to clip your off. Neteyam panics, eyes darting from the mask in his hand to your face, "What are you doing?"

You give him a confused look, "Oh, I have to switch the masks, could you help me?" Neteyam nods, albeit slowly. He shifts behind you, listening as you take a deep breath. Neteyam's hands shake as he moves you mask off your face, rushing to put the other one on so fast he nearly misses a few clasps. Eventually, he gets it on, allowing him to finally breathe.

You push the mask up slightly to fit it better as you press a button the mask is connected to. In an instant, the machine makes a low buzzing sound, smoke traveling up the tube to your mask. Neteyam assumes it's medicine his dad was taking about.

You take a few deep breaths as the medicine fills your lungs. Neteyam watches you closely, analyzing your face. You look is distant, far away like you in another planet. You've been so quiet since you've come back, even Lo'ak and Tuk aren't able to get you to laugh like you once did.

"Hey." Neteyam starts, grasping your hand to gain your attention. "What's wrong. You've been so quiet. "You don't respond instantly, which scares Neteyam. The only sound was the buzzing of the machine. "You know always be here for you, right? I'm your big brother, I'll always protect you, no matter what." He chokes up at those words. He couldn't protect you that night. The reason why your tided up to these machines are because of him.

"Do you think I'm a burden?" You ask suddenly.

Neteyam gawks, "What?"

Your eyes are red and watery, "It's just, even before...you know." You pause and Neteyam's look sharpens, "I've always had to have one of you take care of me. I was the reason for the RDA's attack here. I've caused so many problems." Your worlds become more of sobs as you continue to speak, your breathing becoming labored. Neteyam rubs your back, breathing with you and waiting for you to calm down.

Once your breathing calms, Neteyam looks at you carefully, grasping both of your hands. "(Y/N), look at me." You do, your eyes still blotchy and red.

"You are, and never have been, a burden to us." He says sternly, "Your family" he says with conviction, shaking your hands a little. "It's our job to take care of you."

You roll your eyes and look away. "I know but-"

"No buts." He says, smiling as you giggle. He pulls you into a hug, careful to not disturb your mask while also hugging your tight.

"Thank you, Neteyam." You sigh.

"Don't worry about it." He says playfully. He slowly pulls you out of the hug, patting you on the head. "Let's get this off of you, mom and dad should be home too." He removes the clasps from your mask after turning off the machine. "The others too."

---

The rest of the night was uneventful, and thankfully Neteyam didn't tell anyone about you moment earlier.

However, you couldn't get it out of your mind, your head filled with so many thoughts you could barely keep up. You were a burden, you knew it. You caused so much trouble for so many people, including the only family you've ever known.

You can't stand yourself sometimes, all these negative emotions piling up until you couldn't handle it. Tonight, was one of those nights. You snuck out to watch the water below. You weren't allowed to swim with your siblings, your parents being afraid you get hurt.

It was calming, until it wasn't.

You would tell Jake was coming before you saw him. Your body tensed up when he sat down next to you.

"You supposed to be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep."

Jake's eyebrows wave slightly at your sudden response. He grumbles, watching you kick your feet in the water.

"I know what your talk with Neteyam." You don't react to his worlds, prompting him to continue.

"You're not a burden." He said, wrapping his arm around you, his body filling with warmth as you lay your head on his chest. "You our kid, my kid."

He rubs your arm, shaking his head, "None of this was your fault." He whispers, his hold slowly tightening, "It was them. Not you."

When Jake's sure you're asleep he kisses the crown of your head and picks you up. He stares at you for a while, reminiscing on you being a little kid and when he could protect you from everything. He wishes things would go back to the way it once was. When you were small and innocent.

"Never again." Jake whispers as he leads you back into the Marui, swearing to never let you be hurt again.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere avatar way of water #avatar way of water x reader #yandere avatar #avatar way of water #avatar

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ifearimaybeanamericanidiot · 4 months

Text

Kink Discovery- Pt. 1

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Chris wants to try to spice things up in the bedroom with you by trying out new things. He comes to you (pun intended) with a blindfold and a dream.

TW: anxiety/panic, blindfolds, SMUT

"Hey Chris." I roll onto the bed next to him. He opens his arm, giving me access to cuddle up against him.

"Hey, baby? Would you want to spice up the bedroom?" He asks.

"What? I like the decor in here though." I point to the silly things around his room.

"No- I mean like-" His face is red. "I mean, would you want to try new things...like sexually?" He whispers the last part.

@sturniozo

"Oh." I realize what he means.

"We don't have to. We can just pretend I didn't say anything." He backtracks.

"No, no. It's just- you don't want to try new things cause I'm boring...do you?" His eyes go wide and he shakes his head.

"No! Not at all! I heard Matt's girlfriend talking to her friend is all." His voice is low. "She was saying how when she and Matt...switch things up...it feels really good, from her perspective. I just want to make you feel good." He stares at the ceiling. I turn onto my side, looking at his face.

"What'd you have in mind?" Red creeps down his neck.

"Um, I was thinking we could kind of just come up with things and bring them up to each other."

"I figured as much. But, what do you have in mind right now. I know you have something specific you want to do. What is it?" He bites his lip. He reaches into his bedside table drawer and pulls out a soft length of material, handing it to me. "A...?"

"Blindfold. It's a blindfold." Oh. "We don't have to. I just thought it would be interesting-"

"Well, Chris, I'm going to be honest here. I don't know if I'm cool with it. Not being able to see? It's scary." I wring my hand around the opposite wrist. He's quiet for a while. For a long time, we just lay there in silence.

"What." He starts. "What if I try it first? To make you more comfortable? You can blindfold me, and you can see if you'd be okay with it based off of that?" He offers. He's so thoughtful. I can see an olive branch when it's being offered to me.

"Yeah. We can try." I meet him halfway. He lights up, and leans in, kissing me. Quickly, the kiss turns messy and hungry. Lips softly touching turns into tongues dancing together.

"Aw, fuck." He pulls away from the kiss, leaning his head against mine. I look him up and down, stopping when I spot the darkness on the crotch of his shorts.

"Are you that excited about this?" I tease him lightly.

"Can we try it now?" He pleads with me. His lips are puffy from the kissing we were doing, and I can't help but agree.

"C'mere." I hold up the blindfold to his face. He comes closer, allowing me to tie the fabric, covering his eyes; taking away his sight. It's a simple black fabric, yet it looks amazing on him. I can't think of anything to say, so I begin stripping. My shirt comes off, then I shimmy out of my pants.

"Baby? You still there?" Chris pats his hand out into the air, trying to find me.

"Yeah. I'm here." I say, breathy. He whines, still trying to grab for me. "Stay still." He stops moving. I move, taking his shorts off and pushing his shirt up.

"Fuck, ma- please. Everything feels so, so much more." He emphasizes the word more, and wiggles his hips.

"Tell me about it baby." I plead. As he begins to speak, I place my hand on the bulge in his boxers. He gasps.

"Fuck ma!" He whines out. "Please. It's so much but not enough. Need your skin on mine. Please." I give in. I slip my hand into his boxers, letting my hand trace him.

"Feel good?"

"Fuck, yes, ma. So good. Please don't stop." I take him fully into my hand and begin stroking him. He hisses a breath through his teeth. This goes on for a few minutes. "Shit ma, I already feel close. 'S good." His face contorts, and a certain pang hits my chest. I wish I could see his eyes.

"How close?" I speed up.

"Shit, ma. Just like that- so close ma. Embarrassing how close." He grips the sheets under him. His voice is strained and rough.

"Yeah?" I dip my head down, placing kitten licks to his tip. "You're close? So fucking close." I rub my thumb over his head.

"Shit- love when you curse ma. 'S so hot. Aw fuck- just like that." I grin, and dip my head back down, taking his head into my mouth. I suckle on it. "Fuck ma- shit- I- I'm about to-" He stumbles over his words before stumbling over that edge. He finishes in my mouth. I let it drip out of my mouth and back onto him as I continue to move y mouth over him. "Shit me. Stop, stop, stop. 'M sensitive."

I pull away from him. I reach up, moving the blindfold off of his eyes. They're glossy and so blue it fucking hurts. "You're so pretty." I tell him, brushing his face with my hand. He groans softly.

"Come cuddle." He demands.

"Yes, yes, princess." I tease. He pouts and huffs at me. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming to cuddle. Calm your tits." He rolls his eyes, but accepts my cuddles anyway.

"Was really good." He says softly.

"I think I'd be okay with trying it now. Not right now. I wanna cuddle now." I nuzzle against him. He lets out soft murmurs of agreement.

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #zeroskinkdiscoveryseries

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jazjelspen · 11 months

Text

amor eterno

(miguel and platonic!reader)

(spanglish speaking mexican reader/silly cursing/full sentences in spanish here and there/not proofread/kinda rushed/female reader)

(Happy Father's Day everyone!)

(may make a pt.2 but not sure yet)

(you are Miguel's biological daughter in a different universe and you had to watch your father pass and get buried in your younger years.

you, now an older teenager, have been mastering your spider powers to help the city and your community till all of a sudden you get sucked into another universe where... you see your father again.)

the entire first half of your day was pretty chill as per usual, you just came out of school. you are in a rush inside your home and have been currently getting a few things for your "after school activities". your Tia May always reminding you to stay safe and be careful while Peter, your adoptive brother/guy in the chair, tried to casually dismiss May to let you out faster by asking you to bring him an iced coffee when you get back. once you ran out excusing yourself that you "cannot be late" you then hid behind a secluded alley way to change out of your normie clothes to switch into your spider-themed attire.

It was a normal rest of the day for you, being a crime-fighting spider themed vigilante casually swinging and leaping through your city while taking on a few thieves and even a villain to help your community before resting on top of a roof with a photo of you and your father while munching on a light snack and talking with said photo.

"octo was such a migraine today 'apa.." you scoffed before you took a bite out of your food. "pretty sure I might've broken a small bone or two..somewhere.. but I'm not really sure," you chuckled as you continued "and I know you'd tell me, ten mas cuidado mija, por pendeja te vas a quebrar la cabeza la proxima ves." you spoke as you talked directly to the photo of your smiling dad and you both catching butterflies on a bright sunny day. you imagined what else he'd do right now if he saw and heard you like this, maybe scold you, hug you, curse you out for being reckless then hug you. imagining all this just made you tear up as you stared at his face that you miss seeing everyday, oh how you missed it when he got mad at you. you'd rather him get mad at you a thousand times if it meant to have him back. "I miss you so much.." you let the tears run a bit yet you continued too down your food to calm down the nerves.

after awhile you calmed down and the sun was set with the stars barley getting into view as you peacefully finished the last few chews on your delight whilst enjoying the moment. after crying a bit and relaxing the environment was just so calm and so peaceful in that one second that you even felt as if you were floating, literally. you could practically feel yourself slowly coming off the floor of the roof and your snack basically almost floating out of your han-- oh.

wait.

you are floating.

your eyes then noticed ominous lights of blue, pink,..purple.. and turquoise-- glowing from up above you.

"ay caray..." you mumbled

you quickly snapped your head to look at the direction of the now glowing portal with black specks now growing in size.. you caught on that this portal was trying to suck you in!

"WHATHEFUCK!!"

you immediately shot two spider webs at the ground, one on the floor and one at the photo of your father and you to immediately tuck into your spider outfit to prevent from losing it-- these actions unfortunately forced you to let go of your delicious snack though. you held on as tightly as you could but to no avail your web detached itself from the surface and you were sucked in by the portal with your limbs scrambling to get back out but it closed right in your face.

as you traveled while screaming your lungs out all you could see was a complete endless void of galaxies and glowing blue constellation-like spiderwebs everywhere, your body continued to be sucked into different directions until you were spit right through another portal.

it was all incredibly blurry until you noticed you were heading face first into a group of people who all didn't seem to notice you until the last minute.

"AGUAS AGUAS WATCHOUT--" then they all exclaimed in pain with you as you crashed head first into them. as you all groaned while getting up.

"god that hurt.."

"what was that?--"

"seems like it's a spider-person.."

" 'don't seem like someone we have in the society."

you stayed on the ground still trying to process what just happened but once the figures started becoming clearer and your spider senses started tingling like crazy you then immediately scrambled to crawl away after you realized that-- they are all spider people! just like you!

"what the-- who are you people??.. where am I wh--.." you looked at all of them but a girl of fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair, one side longer and pinker while the other was half shaved, stretched her hand out to you.

"hey hey... I know this might seem confusing--" she spoke "but right now you have nothing to worry, you're in the spider-society!.. so we don't intend to hurt you.."

you hesitantly took her hand as you got up, looking at her and those behind you up and down for any bad intent, which you didn't get but you still wouldn't let your guard down.

"my name is Gwen Stacy, those behind me are Hobie and Pavitr." each name she mentioned either nodded you 'hello', or gave you an exaggerated 'hello' wave.

you let go of her hand and took a step back, you recognized her last name but decided to think nothing of it "my name is _____... where am I?, I know you said the spider-society and clearly there's more than one... me." you sighed "but did I travel into another part of the world or--"

"oh no you're in another universe."

"what."

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

it's been a good few yet long minutes being shown around the Spider-Society HQ and you've got to say you were getting along pretty well with these new spiders. You have been chatting with a few other spider people along the way and you were starting to really dig some of these guys, mostly because of the title and job but it was really starting to sink in. there were people out there in the vast multiverse that were just like you, held the same goals as you.. you felt like there really are people out here that are able to understand you the way your father did.

"and that's the lunch room, oh and theres the gym room but for some reason it's name is much longer than necessary since the leader of this whole organization is a bit of a drama queen. for understandable reasons but still it doesn't help much." Gwen spoke exasperatedly while leading you through the halls, Hobie and Pavitr following close behind yet kind of mingling between each other instead.

" tu leader? theres a whole leader to this entire mess?" you asked while widening your arms to emphasize the size of this entire organization.

"you bet, Miguel isn't the easiest person to get along with but he does his job really well in protecting the multiverse and all the worlds that live in it." she shrugged while speaking.

your body froze on the spot, the blonde took a few steps after you before noticing your slight missing presence and looking behind herself to see you with a worried look on her face. "you alright there?.."

"Miguel." you paused "Miguel." you repeated "that's... sorry that's my dad's name." you let out a sigh with an awkward smile "he died when I was younger but-- " you then couldn't help but chuckle slightly in embarrassment "ah, just missing him a lot lately."

Gwen smiled faintly as she walked up to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, which you flinched at a bit but relaxed when you saw she was just trying to comfort you.. in her own way. "I'm sure he was a good man, _____. considering how many universes there are I'm sure that in one of them you and him are living happily... somewhere out there."

that phrase gave you a sense of comfort, you smiled and nodded as you gently patted the hand that was on your shoulder.

that was until in the same hand she hand on you her watch shined and emitted a small hologram of a person, a woman. she asked for Gwen and her group to go to Miguel's "office" for an overview of a mission that has to take place.

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

you weren't exactly supposed to be there with them but you insisted to join them, using the excuse that you just wanted to know more about this whole society right from the source. but really you just wanted to see how this Miguel person was.

your spidey senses tingled in anticipation as you were expecting a whole different person entirely until you finally looked at the face of the man in front of you, once he turned to look at you and the entire group and all you could do was stare.

as he was speaking he noticed your staring but ignored it trying to get to the point into why he called his most trusted spiders in here. the thing is your staring made him lose focus since your eyes burned into his skull and he forced himself to stop mid convo to look at you face to face.

"what is it kid? what's your problem?" the man who calls himself Miguel O’hara. the same man who raised you but died in front of you. it was as if he was right in front of you back from the dead but just.. in a blue spider-man suit.

in a split second you felt your body just run up to him and hug him. everyone else gasped while you just sobbed and he immediately grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away but he paused while still holding onto you since you called him the word his own little girl used to call him by, " 'apa.. no sabes quanto te extrañé.. te juro que todo este tiempo siempre estoy regresando a la chamba tratando de ayudar a mi communidad y asciendo mucho mas. exactamente como tu me pediste papito..."

the man tensed up and looked at you and utter confusion yet with a mix of hurt just from being called 'apa',

"who are you?" was all he asked.

you wiped off all your running tears before answering "mi nombre es _____ O'hara. y yo vi a mi papa, Miguel O'hara, morir enfrente de mi para que yo podia vivir otra dia mas." you sniffed as you tried to relax "and I became Spider-man to keep his memory alive."

Miguel's eyes seemed to have widened, as if he wasn't sure what to think. his late daughter's name was Gabriella.. not ______.

once the man continued to stare at you in thought you continued to blabber your mouth out "his.. his name was Miguel O'hara." you repeated as you scrambled to get the photo of you and your dad that you held onto just awhile ago and showed it to him, basically presenting it right on his face "he raised me alone after my mother died giving birth to me, he loved empanadas y.. y--"

he gently took in the photo with one hand and the other he continued to hold onto your shoulder. while he stared deeply into the photo he seems to be inspecting it for authenticity. it took a minute of him just looking at you and then the photo and it seemed he recongnized the resemblance of the little kid in the photo to be you. for a split moment it seemed as if he was about to pull you in for a hug until he pushed you further away and letting you go "I'm not your father, kid. he and I might've shared the same name and the same physical features," he gave you a cold and hard look as he carefully returned the photo to you "but I'm not him."

"he's gone."

and just like that he said that one last phrase before he turned to then proceed to ignore you and return to talk to his team, whom were all awkwardly standing there from the scene they just witnessed. he spoke of some mission.. an anomaly.. and who knows what else. all you could think of was how this variation of your father was cold and distant. you hoped for a split second that this variant would at least recognize you, care for you the way your father did. but you should've known better, you know better, that this man was more than right.

he wasn't your father, no matter how many traits, features, or names they shared. you couldn't use this variant of him as a replacement.

not like there was ever a way to replace the man that raised you before May did anyway.

(tried to add some mexican slang and phrases that my family and I use on the daily, as well as trying to make this somewhat relatable to my fellow mexican/americans out there! T-T also sorry if my spanish grammar is a bit weird, not exactly used to writing dialogue in spanish but ill get used to it for sure <3)

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months

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Using Safe Words - Metallica pt.1

A/n: Basically just scenario's where a safe word is used and how Metallica members would react. This is only James, Lars and Kirk, if you'd like to the bassists or other bands even let me know :3

Link to part 2

Warnings: Smut, angst, use of a safe word, rough sex, sex toys, if you think you won't be comfortable reading that that's fine protect yourself before reading content :3 Also, if there's anything you think I missed let me know!

James had you bent in half on the couch. He had had a rough day at the studio, everyone was just on his ass and in his face and it was driving him crazy, so when he got home you offered to help him destress. Only you hadn’t anticipated this...

Don’t get me wrong, James was always on the rougher side of things but this was pushing it. He’d been manhandling you and pulling more orgasms out of you than your body could take at this point. It didn’t matter how sensitive you were, how weak or overstimulated you were, James just didn’t stop and your begs and pleads only seemed to fuel his need for dominance.

His hips were slamming against your at an unholy as he held your knees to your chest. “Fuck, pretty little slut, barely keeping your eyes open?” Your eyes were rolling back, your brain was practically useless at this point and you were shaking uncontrollably underneath James. James slapped you across the face, hard. You cried out but he didn’t care and did it again. “Fucking look at me when I’m railing you.” He ordered.

“Ja-Jamie, Jamie, please!” You sobbed, tears streaming down your red face. “Can’t-can’t take it, please!”

“Whiny whore.” He groaned, slapping you again. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Pumpkin.” You sputtered, your voice was weak and he barely heard it. James laughed and stared down at your weak form.

“What was that? Gotta speak up, bitch.”

“Pum-pumpkin, please, pumpkin!” You sobbed, tossing and turning. James froze, any cold demeanour he had vanished in an instant.

“What was that?” He asked, his voice now basically a whisper. You didn’t respond and just continued sobbing. James slowly pulled out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He littered kisses all over your face, soft and gentle ones. He wiped the tears from your eyes and held you close. “I’m so, so sorry, love, how about I run you a nice warm bath, yeah? Then we can watch a movie or something, how does that sound?” You gave a small nod and he carried you to the bathroom.

He never let go of you while he got the bath ready, sprinkling in smelling salts, lighting a few candles and even adding in rose petals. Fake ones he was saving for a special occasion but he felt you needed them now more than anything.

“Do you want me to get leave?” He asked once he got you in the tub. You shook your head.

“Just-just hold me.” Your voice was still shaky as you mumbled. “Please.” James smiled and got in with you, pulling you close to his chest. He continued to whisper praises and apologise in your ear, pressing soft kisses all over your face and asking if you’re ok.

Lars was always a dick. He’d refuse to let you cum or make you cum so much you couldn’t remember your own name. Then there’d be times when he would only focus on his own pleasure and completely disregard whether you finished or not. Usually, this was just to annoy you, rile you up and what not, plus there’d always be days when he was just perfect for you, making sure everything was just right. He’d have his moments, for sure.

Today was nothing like anything he’s put you through. He’d just come back from a tour with Metallica and said he was all pent up. Of course you understood, you’d been feeling just the same, and so you ended up in the bedroom.

Your wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. Lars had two vibrators in either of your holes, with one perfectly pressed against your clit. Lars was pistoning himself in and out of your mouth, not caring if you could breathe or not. You were gagging, not necessarily because of him but just because you needed air, he didn’t care either way, he just enjoyed the noises coming from you like sweet music to his ears.

“Fuck, so good for me.” Lars moaned out, throwing his head back in pleasure. Your whole body was hot and tight, not in the usual way. The high speed vibrations, the stretch you never welcomed, Lars standing over you and being unable to even try to move through all of it just made everything hurt. Painful, is what it was.

You tried to choke something out but the words couldn’t form around Lars. “Oh, I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked with a grin, pulling out enough for you to talk.

“Please, just-” You didn’t get a chance to finish as Lars slammed himself right back past your lips. Again you gagged while he cackled above you. You pulled and thrashed against the restraints but every move just made the feelings down below so much worse.

Lars pulled out again, still snickering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you wanna try again?” He asked, you knew he’d just do it again so you blurted out the only thing you thought could get him to stop.

“Pump-!” Again he cut you off. This time his laughter was short-lived when he processed what you were trying to say.

“Wait, what?” He asked, moving completely off of you. He held your face as he always did, caressing your cheek.

“Pumpkin, please, pumpkin!” You sobbed, writhing at the pain coursing through you. Lars immediately panicked, rushing to take everything off and out of your. As soon as you were able to, you pushed yourself to the corner of the bed, curling in on yourself as you cried, trying to forget what you just experienced.

Lars came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was that bad.” His voice was soft and a little shaky. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why-why would you-would you do that to me?” You asked through quiet sobs. He shook his head, nuzzling against you.

“I didn’t-I don’t-I just-” He started and stopped his sentences before just giving up. “I’m so, so sorry, love.” He held you a little longer before getting up and walking out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with a cloth and started wiping you down. The cloth was coarse and rough against you. You snatched it out of his hand and started cleaning yourself off in a more delicate fashion. “I’m sorry, can I just-” He reached for it again but you turned away from him. He gave a small nod and went to the closet.

You watched him dig through the clothes, tears making your vision a little blurry and you couldn’t stop sniffling. Lars came back to you, standing beside the bed and holding out clothes for you to take. One of his band shirts and a pair of his sweats. You looked between him and the clothes in his hands for a moment before taking them and slowly getting them on. “My body hurts.” You muttered, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “I can set up a movie for us? A bubble bath? Whatever you want.” You thought about it for a moment before giving a small nod.

“A movie sounds nice.” Lars smiled at you and rushed off to set up a movie for the two of you in the living room.

A few weeks ago Kirk had brought up the idea of having a threesome to which you immediately turned down, that was not up your alley at all. Kirk dropped it when he saw how much you disliked the idea and for a while you thought that was the end of it.

Kirk brought you on tour with him, it was just for a week for his birthday and you intended to spend as much time with him as you could during his special day. The two of you finally had some alone time in your hotel room and were watching a movie, he kept touching up your leg and teasing you a bit, so you decided to indulge and have some fun.

You were straddling his lap, your tongues exploring each other’s mouth as you interchanged moans and groans. Kirk’s hands were roaming your body, groping your ass. He’d have his hands on your hips and pull you down while grinding the tent in his pants against you, drawing more sounds out of the both of you.

Everything was fine until you heard a deep groan that didn’t sound anything like Kirk, plus it was coming from the other side of the room. You pulled away, Kirk went to kiss your neck, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin. You glanced over your shoulder and saw James in a chair not far away with his cock in his hand, slowly stroking it up and down.

Fear shot through you and you pushed yourself off of Kirk, looking between him and the lead singer. “What the fuck?!”

“What?” Kirk asked, looking genuinely concerned for you. “You said no threesome so I figured James could just watch.” He explained. You can hear it in his tone that he’s doubting the idea as he says it. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. With no verbal disagreement Kirk leaned over to you again and kissed you. You slapped him. He didn’t look confused or hurt, just a little sad that he made you uncomfortable.

“Fucking pumpkin! I told you when you brought it up the first time, why would this be ok?!” He didn’t say anything and just looked down at the sheets. You scoffed and stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, taking a moment to breathe and just get yourself calmed down.

Several minutes pass and you hear a knock on the door. “Sweetheart?” Kirk called, his voice soft. “Can I, uh, can I come in?” You waited a moment before opening the door, holding yourself and pouting at him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told James that it was ok without talking about it with you.”

“You shouldn’t have even talked to him about it knowing that I wasn’t comfortable with stuff like that!” You argued. Kirk nodded and looked down again.

“Look, why don’t you take the bed and-and I’ll sleep in the tub.” He suggested, even taking a step around you to get to the small bath.

“Why would you do that?”

“I figured, you know, you wouldn’t want to share a bed with me after-” He paused and took a seat on the edge of the bath. “After that.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, it was really dumb, I promise it won’t happen again.” You nodded and sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I still want you to sleep in bed with me.” You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers together. “Sleep isn’t the same when I know I can’t steal your blankets.” You smiled up at him.

“I think I’d prefer the tub.” He chuckled. Kirk pulled you closer and kissed your forehead.

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bingbongsupremacy · 4 months

Text

Knock knock Pt. 1

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

Warnings: Use of pet name 'baby' and nick names.

Summary: A simple request to turn the music down turns into a frustrating back and forth battle. Why does your neighbor have to be so damn attractive?

This fic does not mention anything about the way the readers' body is shaped, their weight, their height, etc. If I happened to miss something or accidentally described the readers' appearance anywhere, please let me know so I can fix it.

*Not Proof Read*

ABC List TLOU Master list

*****

" Fucking hell. " I groan angrily, smashing my pillow over my ears. Why can't they just shut the fuck up?

Why the fuck did I decide to move into frat row? Every building that isn't a frat is a party house.

Deciding enough is enough, I force myself out of my bed. I make my way to the living room where my roommates are all gathered.

" Did they wake you up too? " Dina asks with a yawn, rubbing her temples.

" Who didn't they wake up? The entirety of Jackson has to have heard them by now. " I mutter, pulling on my coat.

" Where are you going? " Abby asks.

" To tell them to shut the fuck up. Some of us actually needs sleep to survive. " Usually I'm fine with parties. It's college, I've gone to some and I probably will go to more in the future. The problem is, our new neighbors just never seem to shut up.

I make my way across the lawn, sleep slippers squelching in the damp grass. Ignoring the way water is slightly seeping into my shoes, I step around a passed out frat boy.

Empty and nearly empty bottles of booze and other unidentified objects litter the porch. I loudly knock on the door. Within a few minutes the door is opened by a giggly girl. Her half lidded eyes scan my body, a grin sprawled across her sweaty face. " Hey, you here to party? " She asks, her words slurred badly.

" No. I want to see whoever's in charge here. "

" That would be Ellie. "

Of course it's Ellie Williams. The campus' infamous dealer and partier. I had no idea she moved in here. The last time I had to deal with her was in my history class last year. Absolute hell. I got paired up with her for an assignment and ended up doing majority of the work while she spent her time at a local bar, hooking up with the bartenders.

The girl slightly sways to the music, her mind trailing away from our conversation.

She's not going to help me. She doesn't look far from a blackout.

Deciding to take things into my own hands, I push past the girl to get into the house.

" Hey! " She squeaks, trying to balance herself.

The pungent smell of weed and alcohol fills my nostrils. Clothes and red solo cups litter the ground and staircase. I step over a nasty looking puddle, trying to locate Ellie.

" Where's Ellie Williams? " I ask a group of stoners sitting around a cluttered coffee table.

A guy with dark hair looks up from the joint he's rolling. " Who's asking? "

" Me, the fucking person who lives next door. Where is Ellie? " My frustration grows. Along with not being able to sleep well the past few days, I'm overly stressed with some upcoming tests. I can't deal with this right now.

The guy, obviously sensing my pissed off attitude, nods down the basement. " Down there. She might be with a girl. "

I push past a couple grinding in front of the basement door, trying not to touch anything. I'm pretty confident this place hasn't been cleaned in a while and I don't doubt there's some new species growing around here. I'm pretty sure I saw a condom on the TV stand.

The basement is dark, the only light coming from a couple of string lights that are hugging the ceiling. Loud, muffled music bounces off the walls. Immediately I feel slightly better at the lack of people.

The room is fairly clean except for a small pile of clothes near what I'm guessing is the closet. It looks more like a bedroom than a basement.

On the bed I spot a familiar pair of converse shoes. Straddling her is a long haired red head, who's only in her bra. She lets out a small moan, neither of them realizing I'm here.

" Ellie. " I spit, standing at the base of the stairs. I cross my arms, glaring at the pair.

The girl on top jumps from surprise, pulling away from Ellie. She looks back at me, her lipstick and her mascara are both badly smudged.

Ellie's head pokes out from behind the girls' body. Frustration is clear in her expression. " What the fuck do you want? "

" I want you to shut the fucking party down. It's 3 in the morning. Some of us, who actually give a fuck about their future, have to go to class in the morning. "

" I'm gonna go... " The red head gets off of Ellie's hips. She quickly gathers her clothes. " Later, Ellie. "

" Wait you don't need to- " Ellie trails off into a frustrated groan as the girl rushes upstairs. " Fuck! " She sits up, her eyes glaring at me.

I shift slightly, uncomfortable with the angry glare she's sending my way. I can't back down. I need my sleep and I'm going to get it.

" This has been going on for days. Can you please just shut off the music? Just until like...I don't know, tomorrow morning? "

Ellie rolls her eyes. She reaches towards her night stand, picking up a joint. She lights it up before finally responding. " Sounds like a major you problem. Besides, who the fuck throws a party in the middle of the day, cock blocker? " She smirks slightly at the nick name.

Anger courses through my veins. She's getting more and more on my nerves. " Can't you be a little considerate? You aren't the only fucking person who lives on this planet, in case you've magically forgotten. The world doesn't revolve around you. "

Ellie leans towards me slightly. " Oh really? " She asks in an obviously fake surprised tone. " That's news to me, baby. Look, if you want an invite next time, all you have to do is ask. " Ellie gets off of her bed, probably in effort to intimidate me.

She's hot.

Fuck, I'm angry at her. I'm not supposed to be attracted to her.

But the way her tank top hugs her body...The strands of hair framing her face...No. I'm angry. Stop fucking eyeing her.

" You're an asshole. " I shake my head, crossing my arms. I force my gaze away from the woman in effort to stop the flock of butterflies in my stomach. " If you don't do something about the music, I will. "

Ellie chuckles. She steps towards me, only stopping inches away from me. She leans towards me. " You know, you're pretty hot when you're angry. " She whispers into my ear. Her hot breath fans over skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I take a step away from her. I don't like the way she makes me feel. " I guess I'm going to have to do something than. "

Without looking at her again, I hurry up the basement steps. I make my way over to the blasting speakers. My body seems to vibrate with every step towards the speaker I take. How has someone not broken an eardrum yet?

I yank out the cords connecting the speakers and suddenly the house is quiet. People around me stare in surprise.

Ellie pushes past the same couple I had to pass to get into the basement. " What the fuck are you doing? " She asks, clearly pissed.

" I asked you multiple times to turn off the music. Since you didn't do anything, I did. " I toss the cords onto the ground. " Keep it off or I swear to god I'll call the cops. "

I'm not narc but at this point, I'm on the verge of losing my mind.

" Fine. " Ellie says, making me double take. " We'll keep it off. "

" Thank you. " A small breath of relief slips through my lips. I make my way towards the front door, passing Ellie on the way. Before I leave, I look back at the girl.

Something about her expression sprouts a seed of uncertainty in my stomach.

" Good night, CB. " She smirks slightly while following me to the door.

" Good night, Ellie. "

She closes the door behind me, leaving me in the quiet outside. I don't know what she has up her sleeve, but I know she's up to something.

I make my way back to my shared house. My roommates thank me for dealing with the neighbors before we all hurry back to our bedrooms.

I lay down in my sheets, closing my eyes. I feel my eyes grow heavy.

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe she really is going to let us sleep tonight.

A loud muffled guitar solo breaks through the silence. The few moments of quiet are quickly replaced with the sound of blaring music.

My eyes fly open. I throw off my blanket, storming towards my window. I peer over at Ellie's house. She's smugly standing on the lawn, smoking what's left of her joint.

Our eyes meet, sending anger through my body.

She slowly flips me off, laughing at something one of her friends near by says.

It's on.

I tear myself away from the window. I turn on my phone, dialing the three digits I really didn't want to dial tonight.

" 9-1-1, what is your emergency? "

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