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trafltr · 1 year

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ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk smut #eren yeager x reader

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punkshort · 4 months

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i'll be home for christmas | part three

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), soft!joel, hallmark tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, angst (but happy ending is here), hurt/comfort, reader's sister is pregnant

WC: 12.4K

A/N: the final installment is here! I hope you enjoyed Joel shoved into a cheesy Hallmark story. Thank you to everyone who showed me so much love, you've all made me stupidly happy.

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He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he was just setting himself up for more heartbreak, but he couldn't help it. It was the first time in years that he had felt the touch of a woman, but it was more than that. It was the intimacy and the bond that came with having a partner that he craved more than anything. It was someone he could confess his deepest fears to, his happiest moments and his wildest dreams. Someone he could lean on when he was weak, when he needed support the most. For once, he wanted someone to make him feel safe and comforted. Someone to care for him and love him and be there for him, no matter what. He wanted to belong to someone.

So, he knew he shouldn't do it, but he allowed it, anyway, because he had so little. When he woke up early the next morning and saw you curled into his side, your face buried in his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist, he closed his eyes and let himself have the fantasy, just for a few minutes, of a world where you didn't live a different time zone away. Where it was just a typical Saturday morning for you both. He imagined the three of you going to breakfast before dropping Sarah off at soccer practice, then maybe you would beg him to take you to the home improvement store so you could pick out new paint and tile for the bathroom you wanted him to renovate. Then, after picking Sarah up, you would all go grocery shopping together. Sarah would come up with some dinner idea she saw online and you would help her pick out the ingredients while he pushed the cart and watched his girls try to sneak candy into the basket when you thought he wasn't looking. He liked to imagine you would all pitch in and help make dinner. Maybe each of you would be in charge of a certain part of the meal. Afterwards, you could all watch a movie together. He could enjoy a beer while you curled up next to him on the couch with a drink of your own. What was your preferred drink, anyway? He thought he saw you drinking wine the first night you met. He needed to find out. There was so much about you he didn't know yet, and he was desperate to know everything.

But when you woke up, you had other things on your mind.

That was how he found himself thirty minutes later deep inside of you again, coaxing out your second orgasm of the morning with your body sprawled out on top of him, whimpering into his neck while his hands guided your hips, rocking them back and forth until he felt your legs shake and he couldn't take it anymore. He rolled you over so you were on your back where he could reach the furthest depths of you, nudging against a spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head and chant his name over and over until you unraveled around him again, and only once he was absolutely sure you were satisfied did he allow himself to let go and empty himself into you. Because even though he wants someone to take care of him sometimes, he has no problem taking care of you like this, first.

"Can I make you breakfast?" he asked after he caught his breath. You laughed softly, your throat sounding a little sore and it made his chest swell with pride.

"I have a confession to make," you said, rolling onto your side and tucking your hands under your head to face him. "I'm not really a breakfast person."

He gave you a look as if you had just told him the worst news of his entire life, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I'm here now. I can change that," he replied with a grin, about to get up and drag himself out of bed when his phone rang.

"Must be Sarah," he said with a groan, reaching over and pausing when he saw the caller ID. He flipped the screen over to show you and your eyes widened in shock.

"My dad is calling you?" you asked, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around you. Whipping your head around, you quickly put the pieces together. "Oh my god, my phone's downstairs, they probably think I'm dead or something!"

Joel stood up and answered the call, spinning around to pick up his boxers from the floor and even though the moment was slightly ruined by your father, you still took a second to appreciate his fully naked body in the light of day for the first time.

"Hey, Paul," Joel said into the phone, yanking his underwear back on. "Yeah, hold on a second."

He held his phone out to you, and you cringed, gingerly taking it from him and putting it up to your ear.

"Hey, Dad," you said, trying to sound normal and not like your entire life was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

"Mhmm, yeah I'm so sorry, my phone died last night," you said, biting your nail and glancing up at Joel. He held up a finger and headed down the hall to go downstairs and find your phone, giving you a bit of privacy.

He went to the kitchen and saw your cell next to your purse on his table. When he picked it up, the screen lit up in his hand. He saw a few missed calls and texts from your dad and sister, a couple texts from a girl named Sydney and the most concerning of the bunch, one singular text from a Will. He froze, staring down at the phone, unblinking as his chest began to rise faster. You never mentioned your ex-fiancé's name, but something in his gut told him it was Will.

His thumb hovered over the screen, the urge to open and read it overwhelming him, but he quickly stopped himself. That wasn't the type of man he was. What he felt for you was real and intense and life changing, and he wasn't going to screw that up. In order to make this work, assuming you would want to make a long-distance relationship work, the foundation of it would have to be trust. So, he let the screen go dark as he turned on the coffee pot and trudged back upstairs to hand you your phone. You smiled up at him gratefully as you listened to your dad on the other end.

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds great," you said in a tone that clearly sounded like you weren't interested. Joel smirked as he walked over to his dresser, pulling out two clean T-shirts. As he bent over to find some sweatpants, he saw you pick up your phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as your thumb froze over the screen for a moment, just long enough to allow the shock of the name to set in before you pressed down on the text and dragged it to a red button that said 'delete'.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the grin from his face so you wouldn't catch on. You deleted it without even opening it. He took a deep breath as you wrapped up the call with your dad. This can work. It will have to work. You could do this.

"Sorry," you said, handing his phone back and giving him an embarrassed look. "God, that was so awkward."

"It's alright," he said with a chuckle, handing you a T-shirt and sweatpants. You raised an eyebrow as you took them and placed them on the bed.

"You think I'll fit in your sweats?"

"It's all I got," he said with a shrug and yanked on fresh clothes of his own. "You're more than welcome to walk around naked, if you prefer," he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

You hummed against his mouth before he pulled away to pick up the scattered clothes on the ground from the night before. When he bunched up the white T-shirt he wore underneath his button down, you stopped him.

"Wait," you said, and he turned around. You had your arm stretched out; his bedsheet still pressed against your naked chest. He reached over to hand you the dirty shirt, and you smirked up at him, dropping the sheet and exposing your top half.

His throat went dry as his eyes instantly fell to your chest, and he tried to ignore that familiar stirring below his waist as you deliberately took your time slipping his used shirt over your head. He remained frozen in place, barely blinking as you slid your legs out from under the covers and stood.

"I wanna smell you on me," you said by way of explanation, gazing up at him with eyes that were too soft and lips that were too swollen and fuck, you were too perfect.

You watched him from your seat at the kitchen island as he stood over the stove, expertly cooking eggs and bacon as if he were on autopilot, like he had done it so many times before, and probably did, but for Sarah. You took a sip of your coffee before padding up behind him, legs still bare in only just his used T-shirt, so you could wrap your arms around his stomach, resting your cheek against his back.

"Can I help?" you asked, taking a deep breath in, letting his scent fill your nostrils.

"No, baby, I got it," he said softly, turning his head to the side so he could try to see you hidden behind him.

You hummed and let your arms drop back to your side once it became apparent you were in the way, but he refused to say anything about it.

Picking up your phone from the counter, you sat back down to open all the missed notifications from last night and that morning. The texts from your dad and Cassie were similar, each wondering where you were and if you were okay but reading between the lines and noting the lack of real urgency in the tone, it seemed like they had both figured out where you ended up. With a sigh, you went to open the messages from Sydney.

Sydney: girl, tell me you checked insta

Sydney: can you believe that bullshit? what a fucking slut

You frowned, tapping out a quick reply to her as Joel plated your breakfast. You were about to open the app to see what she was talking about when he sat down next to you. The time you had with him was so short and precious, you didn't want to waste it scrolling on your phone or talking to people who never even bothered to ask you how you were doing after your breakup.

"This looks amazing," you said, eagerly picking up your fork. "Thank you," you added, hiding your mouth full of food behind your hand.

"Thought you weren't a breakfast person," he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Guess I worked up an appetite. Wonder why that is?" you teased, nudging your shoulder against his as he tried to hide the blush creeping up his neck. "You like to talk about my hidden talents, but you never mentioned that you were such a good cook," you said.

"Eggs and bacon ain't that hard," he said with a laugh.

"I would probably find a way to mess it up," you said.

"Well, I make it every Saturday for me and Sarah. Why don't you come by next week and I'll show you," he shrugged, not even realizing what he said until the words already slipped past his lips. It felt like you had been punched in the gut, the air leaving your body so fast it made you lightheaded. He paused when he realized that you wouldn't be there next Saturday and quickly dropped his fork to pull you against his chest after he saw the look on your face.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinkin'," he murmured into your hair.

"It's okay," you said quietly, doing your best not to cry. You had cried enough last night, and you had no interest in starting up again. So, instead, you pulled back and looked up at him with a sad smile before planting a quick kiss against his lips, then stood up. You collected your plates and brought them over to the sink, then turned on the faucet and picked up the sponge.

"You don't gotta do that," Joel said, jumping up to push you aside, but you wouldn't budge.

"You cooked, I'll clean," you said firmly, squirting some soap onto the plates. "You don't have to do everything, you know," you added when it became apparent he wasn't comfortable with you cleaning the dishes.

"Okay," he said quietly before reluctantly sitting back down, watching as you scrubbed the plates and forks before moving to the frying pan.

He realized that this is what it would be like. It was one thing to imagine it, because he could convince himself reality wouldn't be as good. That real life didn't work that way and could never live up to the absurd scenarios he tended to dream up in his head when he was in need of comfort.

But the silly little fantasy he had that morning was nothing compared to the real thing, and now that he's had it, he was terrified of losing it.

"So, I was thinkin'... work slows down in January, I could probably come up and visit you. I'm sure Tommy'll be fine with watchin' Sarah for a few days. What'dya think?"

He glanced over at you in the passenger seat of his truck, still wearing his T-shirt under your sweater but having found a better fitting pair of bottoms in Sarah's room.

"Oh! Yeah, that sounds great," you said, sounding surprised. "I don't even know where I'll be living, though," you added with a frown.

"Well, once you get back and figure it out, I'll book the plane ticket. I already looked, fares are low that time of year, lots of options," he rambled nervously, squeezing the steering wheel as his mind tried to work out the details.

"You already looked?" you asked him with a small smile, and he nodded.

"Yeah, looked last night after you fell asleep," he replied. "I know you're worried 'bout it, 'bout us, but we'll make it work, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly, then forced a smile on your face when he gave you a concerned look. "I'm just really going to miss your cooking," you said solemnly, making him laugh.

You knew your options were limited and that this was the best choice. But you also knew long-distance relationships were hard, even for couples that had known each other for much longer than a few weeks.

Maybe you could each take a turn visiting the other every month. Maybe if you really try and put in the effort, talk to each other every single day, maybe it could work. But what was the long term plan? He couldn't move to New York, not when he has his daughter to think about. Would you eventually move back to Texas? Give up everything you've been working towards in New York, the life you built, just to end up back home? What would be the point in ever moving there in the first place? It had to all be for something, right?

He walked you up the porch steps, just like he did since that first night. Always so courteous and respectful. You dropped the bag that carried your dress at your feet, drawing your attention to the ridiculous outfit you were wearing. Your white sweater buttoned up over his oversized shirt, with Sarah's pink pajama bottoms and your high heels from last night.

"If this isn't a walk of shame, I don't know what is," you said, stifling a laugh. He grinned and glanced around.

"Better get in before the whole neighborhood sees," he said, tilting your chin up for a kiss. "Don't need everyone talkin'," he added softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked hopefully, and he nodded.

"Yeah, Tommy's party," he reminded you. You nodded.

"Should be fun," you said.

"Yeah," was all he offered as a response, not yet making a move to go, clearly not wanting to leave you.

"You gotta get Sarah," you told him, finally forcing his feet to move.

"Yeah, okay," he said with a sigh. "Talk to you later?"

"I'll text you. My mom wants to decorate the tree today." You rolled your eyes, making sure the doorbell camera couldn't see, and he smirked.

"Go!" you told him, playfully shoving his chest back when he still remained firmly planted on the porch. He grinned and finally turned to jog down the steps.

"Alright, alright," he said, glancing behind him so he could watch you go inside. He still had that stupid grin on his face as he made his way to his truck, but it quickly faded when he heard your dad call out from the garage.

"Hey, Joel, got a minute?" Paul asked, wiping his hands with a rag and leaning against the door frame. Shit.

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, taking a deep breath before walking up the driveway where your father stood waiting.

"Hey Paul, 'bout yesterday-"

Your dad held up his hand and shook his head, silencing Joel.

"You don't gotta say anythin', she's an adult, I just need to make sure she's alright," Paul said, eyeing Joel up and down.

"I shoulda reminded her reach out, it won't happen again," he replied, looking Paul square in the eye.

"I don't just mean last night, Joel," Paul said, a little quieter now. Joel searched the older man's eyes, and then he saw it. The deep concern that only a father could have for his daughter. A look that Joel had noticed in the mirror more and more lately.

"You make her real happy. I can see it, and I am grateful to you for that," Paul continued. "But she's goin' back to New York soon, and it's got me worried, I ain't gonna lie to you. She's been through a lot lately, and she doesn't deserve -" his voice cracked, and he glanced down at his feet.

"Paul, I care about her. I really care about her, and I think she cares about me, too. I'm gonna do whatever I gotta do to make this work," Joel said, trying to offer him some reassurance. "Believe me when I tell you that I'm the only one who can end up gettin' hurt here."

Paul dragged his gaze up to Joel once again with a sigh.

"I don't want either of you gettin' hurt. You're a good man, Joel. I've always liked you. Martha's always liked you. I'm just askin' you to be careful with my little girl, yeah?"

"I hear you," Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I will, I promise."

"Good," Paul said, clapping his hand on Joel's shoulder.

"Listen, I gotta pick Sarah up from a sleepover, but I'll be back tomorrow. My brother's havin' a Christmas party at his house. Think he asked Cassie to come, too."

"Yeah, he invited us. I didn't get a chance to talk to him much at the party, but he invited us through Josh just yesterday," Paul said.

"Oh?" Joel replied, wondering why they got a last minute invite, but chalked it up to Tommy just being Tommy. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel let out a shaky breath as he walked back to his truck. He had to hand it to Paul: if the roles were reversed and it was Sarah in your shoes, he wasn't sure he would be so understanding.

Luckily for you, your mom was nowhere to be found as you hurried up to your bedroom and shut the door behind you quietly. It was bad enough your parents knew where you were spent the night, they didn't need to see the evidence on top of everything else.

You tucked Joel's shirt into the bottom of your drawer, not wanting to mistakenly wash it, but made sure to put Sarah's pajama bottoms in the pile of laundry you had to tackle today.

After taking a quick shower, you headed back to your room to check your phone. You knew Joel was with Sarah and you shouldn't expect a text already, but you were still disappointed. You couldn't get enough of him. He was on your mind day and night, consuming your thoughts and dreams at every turn. The logical part of your brain warned you it was just infatuation, that new relationships always brought a sense of excitement and passion. But your heart was telling you otherwise. You had deep and profound feelings for him. Feelings you never felt before, or you thought you felt before, but never did to this degree.

Even if you called him every single day, how could you go that long without his touch? You could barely get through an hour without it now. You yearned for him in a way you never thought possible; a way that made you feel like you could finally understand what Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë wrote about. You knew it sounded crazy, that your friends or family couldn't ever understand, but that was fine. It was something you could have just for yourself.

You leaned back into your bed, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, as you scrolled through your phone. Realizing you had been brushing Sydney off the past several days, you opened her text, rereading it and then opening Instagram to try to find out what she had been talking about.

You scrolled a while, realizing you hadn't paid much attention to social media the past couple weeks and missed quite a bit. You saw the standard pictures of your friends and coworkers partying, taking selfies at holiday parties, but nothing stood out to you. With a frown, you swiped back to her text.

You: I couldn't find anything on insta, what are you talking about?

You waited a few minutes, flipping back to the app to scroll again before getting a response.

Sydney: did you see Chris's pics from a few nights ago at tunnel??

You typed in his name in the search bar and began swiping through his pictures. You found the ones where he was at Tunnel, but again, you had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could ask, she sent another text.

Sydney: 4th and 5th pics, zoom in, behind him and Jess

Finding the pictures, you pinched your screen and gasped. There, in the background, was Will and your friend, Melanie, with their tongues down each other's throats. The very same Melanie you were bunking with until you found a new place to live. You couldn't see her face in the fourth picture, but when you zoomed in on the fifth one, they had pulled away slightly and it was obvious who it was.

Will had texted you last night and you deleted it. Now you wondered if he had texted you to try to do some damage control over these pictures. The thought infuriated you. These people clearly didn't give a damn about you, they only wanted to ease their own conscience, and you weren't going to let them.

Sydney began to send a whirlwind of texts after, but you hardly responded to any of them. What were you going to do? How could you go back and continue to live with Melanie after what you just saw? Was she the girl he was seeing the whole time? You never bothered to ask when you found out, you didn't think your friends would betray you like that, so you didn't care.

Angry now, you opened up a text to your sister and began furiously typing.

You: are you free tomorrow? We need to look for apartments for me asap

With a groan, you put your phone on silent and slid under the covers. Maybe Sydney would let you stay with her. She didn't have a huge place, but if it was only for a couple weeks and you had a place lined up before you got back, maybe she wouldn't mind.

You glanced at the mirror one more time, fixing a few loose strands of hair and checking your teeth before snatching your purse off the table, shoving your phone inside, and heading down the stairs where you could hear Joel in the kitchen talking with your parents.

Your mom was wearing one of her patented, unironic ugly Christmas sweaters, and it seemed as though this year she managed to rope your dad into it because he had a reindeer on the front of his that looked like one of the eyes was perilously close to falling off.

Joel turned to greet you with a warm smile, choosing to wear a much more normal off-white V-neck sweater with a pair of dark jeans. He pulled you into a hug, murmuring in your ear how beautiful you looked in the dark green knee length dress you picked out.

"Where's Sarah?" you asked him.

"She's been at Tommy's all day, wanted to help him set up," he explained.

"You ready to hit it?" your dad asked, looking down at his watch. You nodded, looping your arm through Joel's as you followed your parents out the front door. It was much colder than you were expecting, the bitter wind taking your breath away as Joel jogged ahead to start the truck. Your mom veered off towards their SUV, and your dad turned to you.

"See you there," he said, his breath clouding in front of his face in little puffs.

"Yeah. Hey, how'd mom get you to wear that ridiculous thing tonight?" you asked him with a teasing lilt to your voice as you pointed to his sweater.

Your dad chuckled and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

"Sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love, Buck."

Your dad headed over to the driver's side of his SUV, leaving you cemented to the ground as his words tumbled around in your head.

"All good?" Joel asked, his arm coming up to your shoulders, steering you to the truck and out of the cold.

"Yeah," you whispered, taking his hand so he could help you up into the cab.

You were always amazed how comfortable your parents were in unusual social settings. Even if they hardly knew anyone, they managed to make new friends within ten minutes of arriving. That's why it came as no surprise when they branched off from you and Joel after arriving at Tommy's house, first finding your sister and her husband, and then laughing jovially with an older couple you learned later were Tommy's neighbors.

Cassie waved to you from across the room, beckoning you over. You smiled and waved back as Joel slid your coat from your shoulders.

"I'll get us somethin' to drink, what'dya like?" he murmured, his hand falling to the small of your back.

"I'm all set, but thank you," you said with a smile. He gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head before heading off to the kitchen while you made your way across the room to your sister, giving her a big hug.

"Did you get my text?" you asked as you pulled away.

"Yeah, sorry. You wanna get together tomorrow and we can look?" Cassie asked, and you nodded.

"That would be great," you said with relief as Joel sidled up next to you, beer in hand.

"What would be great?" he asked, taking a sip from the bottle.

"I'm gonna help her look for apartments tomorrow," Cassie explained. Joel nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew you were leaving in a few days, but he tried his best not to think about it, too worried that he would waste what little time he had left already missing you.

"Dad!" you all heard Sarah's voice ring out over the crowd of people in Tommy's living room. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he turned around, his daughter's arms wrapping around his midsection and squeezing him tightly. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she turned to embrace you right after, once again complimenting your dress and hair. Cassie and Josh exchanged knowing glances before Joel introduced them to his daughter.

"C'mon, I want you to try the cookies I made," Sarah said, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the kitchen. Joel watched the two of you leave, his chest aching and his throat tightening at the sight of his daughter so happy.

"You okay?" Cassie asked, startling him.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he realized Tommy had come over to talk to Josh about what sounded like football.

"You're not a very good liar, Joel," Cassie said with a smirk. Joel gave her a surprised look and chuckled.

"No, reckon I'm not," he replied, taking another sip from his beer. His eyes met yours when you turned around in the kitchen and took a bite from a sugar cookie, tossing him a wink that made him smile.

"Do you love her?"

Joel nearly choked on his beer, his head swiveling back towards Cassie in surprise.

"Bit soon for that, don't you think?" he finally managed to say.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," she said with a glint in her eye. Joel felt his heart hammering in his chest. Of course, he loved you. And apparently, it was very obvious. But still, he struggled with an answer, not sure how much to tell your sister. When a couple minutes passed and he still hadn't thought of anything to say, Cassie's eyebrows pinched together.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reading the pain on his face. He sniffed and shook his head.

"It's alright," he replied, but his voice cracked, so he took another sip of beer to help distract from it.

"Dad! Do you wanna try one?" Sarah asked from the doorway, holding out a green sugar cookie in his direction. Joel forced a small smile and nodded before muttering excuse me to Cassie and headed over.

He plucked the cookie gingerly from his daughter's hand and took a bite, nodding to her and smiling as he chewed.

"Real good, baby girl," he said after he swallowed.

Sarah grinned mischievously as you approached, sliding your arm up and rubbing his back affectionately.

"She did a good job," you said, nodding towards the cookie. Sarah took a few steps back and looked up.

"Oh, no," she said, her tone flat, implying sarcasm as she pointed above your heads. "Guess you better kiss."

You both looked up at the small bundle of greenery wrapped in a little red bow pinned to the doorframe. You bit your lip and tilted your chin back down, raising an eyebrow at him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes as if it were a great burden, but he couldn't keep his mouth from turning up into a smile as he placed his beer and half eaten cookie on the table behind you so he could gently cup your jaw with both hands. You lifted your face up and let your eyes flutter closed when his lips brushed tenderly against your own, and just like the first time you kissed, all the noise surrounding you faded away. The only thing that mattered in those few moments were the two of you and the love that clearly burned so brightly that it drew the attention of Tommy and your family.

Your parents exchanged a sad glance and looked away right as Joel pulled back and gave a small kiss to the tip of your nose, then reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides.

"Adorable," Sarah said with a grin. You turned to look at her as she held up the screen of her phone, showing you the picture she sneakily took. You felt your cheeks flush as you gave her a playful shove, making her giggle.

A few hours later, Joel drove you home, with Sarah humming to herself in the backseat of the cab while she scrolled on her phone. His hand interlocked with yours as he drove, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles while he steered the truck with one hand.

"Can you come over on Christmas?" Sarah asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"She's gotta spend Christmas with her family, baby girl," Joel said, his eyes shifting to the review mirror to look at her.

"Actually, we exchange gifts tomorrow," you told him. "We've always done our presents on Christmas Eve. But I'm sure you guys want to do your own thing-"

"No," Joel said quickly, cutting you off. "We just have Tommy over. If you're free, we'd love to have you."

"Are you sure?" you asked him quietly, but Sarah's voice piped up from behind you.

"We're sure," she said confidently, making you chuckle.

"You heard her," he said with a grin.

"Alright then, that sounds great, thank you," you replied as he pulled into your driveway.

"I'm just gonna walk her up, okay?" Joel said over his shoulder, and Sarah just nodded, staring down blankly at her phone.

"I hope she didn't put you on the spot. If you aren't comfortable with it, I understand," Joel said as he led you up the steps.

"Not at all. If anything, I thought I would be intruding on family time," you responded when you reached the front door.

But you are family he thought, refusing to say it outloud.

"You're never intruding," he said earnestly. "We tend to start early, though. Maybe I can pick you up tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't that be weird for Sarah?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

"I'll figure it out. I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'," he said reassuringly.

"Okay," you said, giving him a shy smile and tugging your lower lip between your teeth. He reached out to swipe his thumb lovingly over your cheek before pinching your chin and pressing a kiss against your lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then," he murmured.

You watched as he jogged down the steps, his breath lingering in the cold air behind him. You lifted a hand to give Sarah a wave and stepped inside when your phone went off in your purse. With a frown, you lifted it out and when you saw the text, you blushed.

Joel Miller: Miss you already.

"Hey Buck, you in here?" your sister's voice said from the other side of your bedroom door.

"Yeah, come in," you told her, sitting up in bed but still staring down at your phone will a goofy smile on your face.

When Cassie walked in with her laptop and saw your face, she rolled her eyes.

"Lemme guess," she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. "Joel?"

You didn't reply, still staring down at your phone as you tapped out a text.

"Hellooo?" Cassie said loudly, waving a hand under your face. You blinked and looked up at her.

"What?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No, sorry, I was just texting Joel," you said, the grin coming back. "What did you say?"

"Nevermind," Cassie replied, shaking her head. "You ready to look at apartments? I did some research this morning and I found a few you might like, and they are really affordable."

"Oh, yeah?" you said, finally dragging your attention away from your phone, curiosity getting the best of you. "That's fantastic because you'll never believe this one."

You sat back and told Cassie about Will and Melanie, her jaw dropping at the end.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" she exclaimed, and you shook your head.

"Nope. And you know, he had the audacity to text me trying to explain himself? I deleted the first one without reading it but the asshole actually texted me today, wishing me a Merry Christmas and oh, by the way, sorry I've been fucking your friend."

"What did you say?" Cassie asked, letting the laptop boot up on the bed next to her.

"Nothing. I just blocked his number. And I'm going to block Melanie, too, once I get back and get my shit from her place. Sydney said it's okay if I stay with her for a little bit, so I hope you found some decent options," you said, nodding towards the computer.

"Lemme pull them up," she said, moving the laptop towards her and taking a few minutes to pull up the sites she bookmarked, then she swiveled the computer to face you, watching your reaction closely. You narrowed your eyes at the screen and frowned, glancing up at her.

"These are in Austin," you said slowly.

"I know," she said, inching towards you on the bed. "I think you should stay, Bucky."

"Cas-"

"I saw you last night. Everyone saw you guys last night. And even if we didn't, it's so obvious to all of us-"

"Who? Mom and Dad?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, Mom and Dad. And Josh. And Tommy. And probably even Sarah. Why are are you doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what? Going back to my home and my job? I didn't realize that was so irresponsible," you said sarcastically, growing more agitated.

"What home, Buck? Your home is here, with us. With Joel and with Sarah. And you know it," she said, crossing her arms.

"I'm not fighting with you about this. I'm not just going to give up and move back because some guy dumped me," you said, standing up from the bed.

"Would you give up and move back if another guy loves you?" she asked, stopping you cold.

"What?"

"He didn't tell me, but it's so obvious, Buck. C'mon, you see it, right?" she said, more gently now.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"Look, if you're not going to help me look for a place, can I at least borrow your computer? It's a lot easier to do it that way than using my phone."

"Fine," Cassie said, standing up and walking to the door. "But you're right, I'm not going to help you ruin your relationship with a guy who's actually fucking perfect for you. If you want to be stubborn, go right ahead."

"I'm not ruining my relationship with him, we're gonna do long-distance, and-"

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that," she said over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

When you saw Joel pull into the driveway later that evening, you rushed out the door, tossing a wave to your family over your shoulder. He frowned and jogged up to you, taking the duffel bag from your hand.

"Why didn't you let me come to the door? I wanted to say Merry Christmas to your folks," he said, following you to the passenger door.

"I was too excited to see you," you confessed, peeking inside and confirming Sarah wasn't in the car before turning around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "Sorry," you added with a smirk, nipping lightly at his lip.

"I'll forgive you," he said with a grin, then yanked the door open to help you up. He tossed your bag on the seat behind you before getting behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway.

"Is Sarah excited for Christmas?" you asked him as you looked out the window. He loved that you always thought to ask about his little girl.

"Oh, yeah. She loves Christmas. Especially since we're supposed to get snow tonight," he said.

"I heard about that, might be a lot."

"That's alright, we got nowhere to be," he said with a wink. "I can make us all breakfast in the mornin', Tommy'll be by around ten, we can do presents and watch movies. Or whatever you want. That's just what we usually do. Are there any traditions or anythin' you like?"

The excitement in his voice was palpable. This was going to feel like a real Christmas for the first time in years. Not that he didn't enjoy holidays with his daughter and brother, but something always felt like it was missing.

"All of that sounds perfect," you said with a smile.

When you entered Joel's house, Sarah came bounding up to you for a hug before you could even get your coat off.

"I'm so excited! We're gonna have a sleepover! Dad said we can stay up late and watch movies and set up sleeping bags in the living room next to the tree - come here, let me show you!" She dragged you across the room, and you tossed a laugh over your shoulder at Joel who was watching with a smile from the door.

Sarah fell asleep sometime during The Grinch, after the three of you had hot chocolate and the leftover cookies she had made for Tommy's party. With a contented sigh, you sleepily reached over and wrapped your arm around Joel's waist and buried your face against his neck, falling asleep just like that while he finished watching the movie alone, the smile refusing to leave his face.

"Wake up!" Sarah shouted, making you both jump out of your skin.

"What's wrong?" Joel asked groggily, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. Then he smelled your shampoo and felt the warmth of your body against his and his heart melted as the night before came flooding back to him.

"It snowed, Dad!" she said. "Come on, I wanna build a snowman and do snow angels."

"It's early, honey, gimme a minute," Joel groaned, and he felt you trying to muffle your laughter against his chest.

"I'm gonna go wash up and change so we can go outside," she said, excitedly skipping up the steps.

"Jesus, you'd think she was eight years old," he mumbled, rolling on his side to wrap his arms around you tightly.

You burrowed into his chest deeper, the heat from his body washing over you and causing you to feel unbelievably relaxed, even if you were sleeping on the floor with an old sleeping bag as a mattress.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered, planting a soft kiss against his throat.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he said in return, his voice so deep and thick with sleep that it made your knees weak.

He leaned down and captured your lips with his while his fingers got tangled in your hair. He let out a satisfied groan when you let his tongue slip past your lips, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Joel," you said breathlessly, pulling back. "She'll be back any second."

"Sorry. You're just so fuckin' pretty in the mornin'," he said with a grin. "Can't help myself."

After Sarah got ready, you and Joel took turns getting dressed and manning the stove. Once Joel made sure you were all full of pancakes, eggs and toast, he told Sarah she could go outside and take pictures while the two of you stayed behind to clean up.

Once again, you insisted on doing the dishes after he had cooked most of the meal. It was difficult for him to get used to that, but he put up less of a fight this time and let you do it, knowing that you were just trying to take some things off his plate. He reasoned that it was what he had wished for all along - someone to help him and care for him - so he might as well let it happen. He was in too deep at this point, anyway.

"The hell, you couldn't shovel me a damn path?" Tommy's voice boomed from the front door.

"That's what Sarah's for, why don't you yell at her?" Joel said with a grin as he pulled his brother into a hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, brother," Tommy replied, slapping him on the back before making his way to you across the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, little lady," Tommy said, picking you up and spinning you around, the same way he did with Sarah at her recital. You giggled, and Joel could see in your face that you were surprised. You gripped Tommy's shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek when he finally put you down.

"Merry Christmas, did you eat? We still have some food left over," you said, pointing to the counter where the food was wrapped up in foil. When he heard you say we, it made Joel's stomach clench. Why on earth couldn't he have met you sooner?

"Don't mind if I do," Tommy replied, pulling a fork from the drying rack and grabbing the plates.

"Okay, Uncle Tommy's here, can we do our gifts now?" Sarah asked, rushing inside through the sliding glass door, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold and her tight brown curls carrying in a light dusting of snowflakes.

"Let him eat first, baby girl," Joel said, but Tommy shook his head, shoveling in a forkful of pancake.

"Go ahead and get started, I won't be long," he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

You and Joel brought your coffee into the living room and watched her excitedly open the gifts he had put under the tree, some of which you recognized as your own handiwork. He slung his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. You leaned into him, bringing your knees up to your chest and your mug to your lips as you watched Sarah with a warm smile. Already, this was the perfect Christmas, and it had only just begun.

Sarah picked up a flat rectangular gift and read the tag before handing it over to you, and then going back to holding up the clothes she got.

You furrowed your brow and smiled when you saw it was from Joel, then turned to look up at him.

"It's nothin' really," he said with a shrug, but you could tell he was nervous. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy enter the room, picking up Sarah's gifts one by one to examine them.

You set your mug down on the coffee table and opened the package, your hands pausing when you began to recognize what it was. Hurriedly, you ripped the rest of the paper off and flipped it over. Tears sprung to your eyes as you looked closely at the wooden picture frame he had made for you. Hearts, snowflakes, stars and moons of various sizes filled each and every inch of the wood. All of them painstakingly carved by his patient hand. You ran your finger over the wood, marveling at how smooth it was, before you even thought to look at the picture itself. Inside the frame was a picture of the two of you at Sarah's recital: you in your red dress and him in his dark red dress shirt. Your eyes were closed and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead.

He cleared his throat, growing nervous the longer you stared and didn't say anything.

"It's not a big deal, just-"

"No, it is a big deal," you said, turning to him with tears in your eyes. "I love it." I love you.

"Yeah?" he asked, finally allowing a smile to spread across his face. "Tommy took the picture and the idea just came to me."

"It's perfect," you breathed, looking back down at it in wonder. "Thank you so much."

You continued to stare at it, looking closely at and admiring each symbol he marked in the wood when you remembered your gift.

"Oh, wait!" you said, jumping up from the couch to paw through your duffel bag. You pulled out a card in a red envelope and handed it to him with a smile.

"You didn't have to do anythin'," he said, but ripped open the envelope eagerly anyway.

"It's actually a gift for both of you, if you want," you began nervously, getting Sarah's attention. Joel opened the card and saw two plane tickets for a five day trip to New York. He looked up at you in shock and glanced at Sarah before looking back down.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, getting up to look over his shoulder. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"We're going to New York City?!"

"If you want," you repeated, biting your lip. "I thought you could both come visit me for a few days next month. I picked the end of the month because Tommy said you won't be working," you glanced up at Tommy and he smiled. "But if you want to pick different dates, we can do that, too. They're flexible tickets."

You realized you were rambling now. Joel's eyes were still glued to the tickets in shock, and you were worried you might have overstepped.

"Dad! We're gonna go to New York City!" Sarah squealed, shaking his shoulder and yanking the tickets from his hands. His eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

"They are fully refundable, too," you continued, suddenly feeling sweaty. "No pressure, I just thought-"

He reached forward to grip the back of your neck, pulling you forward and crashing your mouth onto his. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but you managed to get your bearings and return his kiss. He pulled back and pressed his forehead affectionately against yours.

"Thank you," he whispered. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome," you said with a smile.

He couldn't believe you thought of bringing his daughter with him to visit. His chest ached, seeing how wonderful you were with her, how caring and sweet and thoughtful and all the things his little girl needed and wanted but never got from anyone besides him and Tommy.

After the excitement died down, Sarah dragged you all outside to play in the snow. Insisting on building snowmen and taking tons of selfies because, as she said, it never snows this much in Texas, we need to memorialize it.

When it got too cold for you, you slipped back inside to make lunch, watching from the kitchen window as the three of them had a snowball fight, and laughing when Sarah nailed Joel square in the back of the head with a huge snowball.

The three of them finally came back in, filling the kitchen with a blast of cold air so crisp you could smell it. After they shrugged off their coats and gloves in the hall, Joel snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his freezing cold face into your neck, making you giggle and shriek. You tried to squirm away, but his grip was too tight.

"Warm me up, baby," he murmured into your neck, and you threw your head backwards as you laughed, your fingers trying to pry his hands off you.

"Oh, I love grilled cheese," Sarah said, eying up the sandwiches you had just plated as they walked in the door.

"I don't know how to make much, but I can make a mean grilled cheese," you told her, finally escaping Joel's grasp so you could join them at the table.

Joel couldn't remember the last time anyone cooked for him. Sarah tried a few times but ended up needing his help. He appreciated the thought and effort she had put into it, but it wasn't the same. He knew it was just a sandwich, but the fact he was able to sit down and have a warm meal without having to do it at a restaurant made it so much more meaningful to him.

The four of you spent the afternoon watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate and eating leftovers from Tommy's party. You leaned up against Joel, his arm around your shoulders while you all watched Christmas Vacation, a beer in one hand while his other hand mindlessly played with the ends of your hair and all he thought was this is better than I ever could have imagined.

When the sun began to dip below the trees and the snow melted enough where his truck was visible again in the driveway, he reluctantly took you home, but only after you promised Sarah you would see her once more before you flew back home.

"Are you working tomorrow?" you asked him when you reached your front door.

"Yeah, but I can come by after," he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Okay," you said quietly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down your face. "Thank you for today, I had a really great time."

He nodded and took a shaky breath in.

He wanted to tell you. The words were sitting right at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it. He knew if he did, you would never leave. So instead, he wordlessly stepped forward and gave you a soft kiss, his lips wrapping around your lower lip and giving it a gentle tug as he pulled away.

"Sleep tight," he murmured, the tip of his nose nudging your own. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

You watched him walk slowly down the steps and head to his truck, your eyes stinging and your chest tight as you bit your lip. He turned back to give you a wave before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Only when his taillights disappeared down the street did you allow the tears to finally fall.

Joel pulled up to the job site early the next morning, spotting Tommy's truck already parked along the street. He glanced quickly at his phone to make sure he didn't miss a text from you before pulling on his gloves and walking up to the building.

"Hey," Joel said to Tommy when he walked in, then shrugged off his coat.

"Hey. Cold one out there today," he replied, taking a sip from his thermos. Joel grunted in response and kept his gaze focused on the tools in front of him. Tommy watched him for a moment before speaking again.

"So, tomorrow's the big day, huh?"

"Yep," was all Joel said in response.

"What time's her flight?"

"Morning. Ten or so," he replied, still not looking up.

"Hm," Tommy said, taking another sip of coffee. "You don't look so good today."

"Huh?" Joel asked, finally turning around to furrow his brow at his brother.

"You look a little under the weather. Maybe you oughta go home," he said, tilting his head to the side. It took a moment, then the realization dawned on him.

"Oh," he said, looking around the half built store, his fingers flexing at his sides, clearly thinking it over.

"Just go, Joel," Tommy told him.

"Yeah, but-"

"This can wait. Just go be with your girl," he urged gently. "I can handle things here today."

"Okay," he said, grabbing his coat and throwing it back over his shoulders. He turned around to thank him as he got to the door, but Tommy waved him off.

"Get goin'."

Joel grinned and flung the door open, jogging back to his truck and pulling out his phone.

Joel Miller: You awake?

He took the porch steps two at a time, his finger hovering over the doorbell before deciding to rap his knuckles against the door instead. He tapped his foot as he waited impatiently, then straightened up when he heard the sound of the door opening.

You peered around the door looking like you had just woken up, although you had claimed you were awake when he texted you fifteen minutes ago.

"Joel? I thought you had to work?" you asked, stifling a yawn.

"Anyone home?" he asked, ignoring your question and looking over your shoulder.

"No, they went shopping and then they were going to my sister's house after to help put together the crib," you told him, stepping back so he could enter.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" you tried again as he quickly slid off his boots and coat.

"Yeah," he said, providing no more information.

He took a step forward and leaned down to press his lips against yours, his hands skirting up your sides and resting on your jaw. You brought your hands up to grip his shirt tightly, tipping your head back and opening your mouth, deepening his kiss with a moan.

"So, you're home alone?" he clarified a little breathlessly, and you nodded.

"Why don't you show me the guest room?" he murmured, breathing deeply and giving you another quick kiss.

"Didn't you build this house?" you teased but took his hand to lead him up the stairs anyway. He swatted your ass playfully and you giggled.

"Yeah, but you make every room look better," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Such a sweet talker," you told him with a smirk as you reached the top of the stairs.

"Like what you've done with the place," he said without even looking around. Instead, he kicked the door shut and pulled you against him, his mouth latching onto your neck. You sighed and tilted your head back, giving him better access as you walked backwards towards the bed and pulled him down on top of you.

"Will you and Sarah come see me tomorrow morning before I leave for the airport?" you asked suddenly, making his lips freeze on your throat.

"'Course we will," he said, leaning up and brushing the hair away from your face. You searched his eyes for a moment, pressing your lips into a thin line as you tried to steady your breathing. The rawness and vulnerability he saw made him weak.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, and pressed a kiss against your forehead. "It'll all be okay."

He heard the words come out of his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to believe them. It didn't appear that you did, either, but you still nodded before dragging his face down to kiss you. He dipped his tongue past your lips, and you lifted the hem of his shirt up. He broke the kiss briefly, just long enough to tug the shirt over his head, then his mouth was back on yours while your hands roamed over his warm chest, trying to memorize every single detail of his pebbled skin while he was still here.

You lifted your hips, and he tugged your pajama pants down, leaving them in a heap at the bottom of the bed, then making short work of your shirt, leaving you almost completely exposed. His eyes raked up and down your body, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. He tried not to think about this being the last time you would be together like this for at least a month, but the suitcase in the corner of the room kept catching his eye.

So, to distract himself, he frantically pulled down your panties and settled his shoulders between your thighs. Before you even knew what was happening, you felt his tongue between your folds and you gasped, fully not expecting that, but you recovered quickly, your fingers finding their way to the top of his head, gripping the dark curls there as your hips rocked against his face.

You whined and arched your back, his coarse facial hair adding just the right amount of friction to your most sensitive spot to send you tumbling over the edge, gasping his name over and over until your body went lax.

He crawled up your body, planting soft kisses along your hips, stomach, breasts and shoulders until he reached your lips. The taste of yourself on his tongue was dizzying. It should have felt obscene, but it was the exact opposite. His taste and scent mixed with your own created something intoxicating, something indescribable that you wished you could keep and carry with you whenever you were lonely and two thousand miles away.

"Love the way you say my name," he mumbled against your mouth, his fingers working on the zipper of his jeans. Your breath caught in your throat when he shed his pants and underwear, the sight of him sending a tingle down your spine.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked you, his palms squeezing your thighs. You hadn't realized it, but your body tensed up once you were reminded of his size. His gentle touch helped you relax while his hips nudged your legs apart, and you nodded.

"C'mere," you whispered, and he fell forward on his elbows so he could hover above you. You pinched his chin with your fingers and tugged him closer, brushing your lips softly against his, never wanting the moment to end.

He reached down between your bodies to line himself up, hooking your leg around his waist in the process. When he pressed forward, you let out a moan so soft and sweet that he needed to pause and clear his head.

"Fuck," he whispered as he eased all the way in. You had your lower lip tucked between your teeth and your chin tilted up to gaze at him, swallowing a whine as he rolled his hips, making you feel impossibly full. His eyes drifted down to where you were connected and his jaw went slack, watching in a trance at how beautifully your body accepted him.

"Joel," you gasped, trying to get his attention.

He looked up at you, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his breath coming in sharp pants.

"Roll over," you told him. He grinned and did as he was told, pulling you on top of him, his hands resting on your hips. You stilled for a moment as you adjusted around him, the angle far more intense, before you started rocking back and forth, then bouncing lightly, tipping your head back with your eyes slid shut.

God, if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Watching you lose yourself on top of him, chasing your release and moaning his name. It felt so surreal, he almost pinched himself. Then he felt his stomach tense and a familiar burning at the base of his spine and he knew he didn't have long. He sat up, one arm circling your waist, the other bracing his weight behind him, and he began to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm, his mouth open and hovering over yours as he waited for your body to warn him you were close.

"Joel!" you cried out, your face twisted with pleasure and your breath ragged.

"C'mon, baby," he urged, his hips snapping faster now.

You collapsed onto him, your cries muffled by his mouth as your climax washed over you and he finally let himself go with a loud groan of relief. His hips slowed and your eyes opened to look at him while you caught your breath.

He fell backwards, his arm no longer able to hold him up. You rolled off to the side, your head tucked into his shoulder and the pessimistic part of you wondered if that would be the last time, if either of you were strong enough to survive a long-distance relationship.

You swallowed roughly and looked up at him, only to find him staring at the suitcase in the corner of the room.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, and he quickly tore his eyes away to give you a smile.

"'Course I am," he said, rubbing your back reassuringly. But what he really wanted to say was please don't go.

You gave your mom a big hug, swaying back and forth as your dad put your luggage in the back of Cassie's car.

"Take care of yourself, Bucky," your mom said, giving your forehead a kiss.

"I will, Mom," you promised. You turned to your dad, who had made his way back to your side.

"Alright, kid," he said, pulling you into his chest roughly. You grinned and wrapped your arm around his sizable midsection. "Call me when you land, alright?"

"Sure thing," you said, pulling back.

"And I mean call, don't be textin' me, I wanna hear your voice," he said sternly, and you nodded.

You heard a car coming up the driveway and your chest squeezed tight. Your mom must have seen it on your face because she gave you one more hug and whispered encouragement against your hair before she ushered your dad back inside.

"I'll be in the car," Cassie mumbled. She was still annoyed with you, but she wasn't the type to be cruel about it.

You heard a familiar voice call out your name and you turned around just in time to catch Sarah's embrace.

"I can't believe you're really leaving," she said sadly against your shoulder. You looked at Joel as he slowly walked up behind her.

"I know, but it's been so much fun. I want to thank you for everything. I had such a great time with you," you told her, pulling back. "I really mean it, okay?"

"Yeah, me too," she said with a smile. "And I'll see you again in a month, right?"

"Right! It's not that long, it'll be here before you know it," you told her, the lie slipping right past your lips.

She finally stepped back, looking at her dad and then back at you before telling Joel she would wait in the car.

You looked up at him, the tears welling in your eyes now, unable to hold them back any longer.

"Don't cry," he whispered, pulling you close. He closed his eyes and felt you sob quietly against his shoulder, your fingers gripping his coat so tightly, like you were afraid to let him go.

"I stole your shirt," you said, your voice muffled. He chuckled and shook his head.

"That's alright, sweetheart, it's yours," he said.

Stepping back, you looked up at him. You could tell he was sad but trying to be strong for you, and for some reason, it broke your heart. Joel spent so much of his life being strong for everyone else around him, it wasn't fair.

He knew if he asked, you would stay. But that wouldn't be right. As badly as he wanted you to stay, not only for him, but for Sarah, he couldn't do that to you. He wouldn't put that choice on your shoulders and risk you making a decision you would eventually regret and hold against him. So, he let you go. Only this time, he hoped that history wouldn't repeat itself and you would come back to him.

The drive back home was quiet. The radio was on, but neither of them really heard it. Sarah stared glumly out the window while Joel tried his best to keep it together, telling himself over and over that the long-distance thing would work. If it failed for other people, it was because they weren't as strong or devoted. He knew what he felt, and what you had together was worth fighting for.

"Are you still going to take me to Katy's?" Sarah asked. Joel blinked and looked over at her.

"What?"

"Remember? We have that science project together, we need to have it done before end of Christmas break," she said, and he nodded as it began to come back to him.

"Yeah, sure. I can drop you off on my way home," he said quietly.

Sarah looked at him for a moment in silence, worry etching her face.

"Maybe I should stay home today," she said, but Joel shook his head.

"I'm fine, I should meet up with Uncle Tommy, anyway. We're behind on a job."

"Dad," Sarah said, and he turned to look at her as he approached a red light. "You're not fine."

Joel's mouth opened and then closed, unsure what to say.

"Why didn't she want to stay?" Sarah asked. Joel swallowed the lump in his throat.

"She's got a life in New York, baby girl. I can't ask her to stay."

"You didn't even ask her?!" she exclaimed, twisting around in her seat to glare at him.

"'Course I didn't ask her-"

"Dad!" Sarah screeched, and Joel jumped in his seat.

"Calm down! I'm tryin' to drive!" he yelled as he pulled down Katy's street.

"Did you tell her that you love her?"

Joel frowned at her as he pulled into the driveway.

"How did-"

"Oh my god, Dad! You are hopeless!" she said, exasperated. She opened the door and slid out of the seat but turned back to him before she shut the door.

"Go get her, Dad."

Joel was a cautious man. He was responsible. He had a level head and kept to himself. He wasn't a risk taker, he didn't speed, and he definitely didn't dramatically chase down women in airports, yet today he found himself doing exactly all of those things.

He had parked his truck in a spot he was very certain he shouldn't have parked in as he raced into the building, his eyes flicking across the departure screens before heading up to the counter.

"How can I help you?" a young, blonde woman asked, giving him her best customer service smile.

"I need to speak to someone on one of your flights, it's an emergency, and she's gettin' on a plane in-" he yanked his arm up to look at his watch. "Ten minutes. I need you to call the gate and ask them-"

"Sir, I am so sorry, we can't do that," the woman replied, cutting him off. Joel squinted at her name tag and looked back up at her.

"Teresa. Please. I am beggin' you, please pick up the phone and call the gate."

"We cannot hold up a flight, sir. Can't you just call her and ask her to-"

"I tried! She ain't pickin' up, she probably has her phone off already for the damn flight," he said, his heart hammering in his chest as he rubbed his palms aggressively over his face.

"If you buy a ticket, you can get past security and maybe you'll be able to reach the gate in time," she said quietly. He looked up at her, his eyes filling with hope.

"I'm not supposed to tell people that," she added softly as she typed into the computer. "Don't make me regret it."

"Thank you!" he whispered, pulling out his wallet and paying for the cheapest ticket they had. Once she handed him the ticket, he took off running towards the gates.

"Good luck!" Teresa called after him, leaning over the counter.

He checked the board ten times. Gate 52. He was sure of it.

He ran up just in time to see the plane backing away from the building, the door sealed shut. He stood there, his forehead resting against the window as he watched your plane leave.

What a stupid idea. He never should have done this. What was he thinking? This is real life. Of course he wouldn't catch you in time, and even if he did, you wouldn't have stayed. It would have just put you and him through more pain, and for what? Just so he -

"Joel?"

He swore in that moment, all the air left his body. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He thought he imagined it, that he was so far-gone that he was blurring fantasy with reality. But when he finally turned around, he saw you actually standing there, clutching your carry on in one hand and your phone in the other, tears streaming down your face.

"I couldn't do it," you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

"You stayed," he said in disbelief, his voice cracking as he rushed over and pulled you into his chest. You didn't leave me. You didn't leave Sarah.

"Why?" he asked. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away, still clutching you against him.

"The whole ride here, it felt like I was leaving a piece of me in that driveway, and I just kept asking myself what was I even going back for? What was left for me, besides my job?" you sniffled into his coat before continuing. "I guess sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love."

He pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, his mouth crashing down on yours. You dropped your carry on and wrapped your arms around his neck, your tears mingling together as both of you refused to break away.

"I love you, too," he said, finally stepping back but still holding onto you as a wide smile spread across his face.

You giggled and tried to wipe some of the tears from his cheeks.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked. "I tried callin' you, I couldn't get through. I thought you were on the damn plane."

"I was on the phone with my boss. I told him I quit," you said with a grin. "I had this whole speech planned, but all I managed to get out was I needed to stay in Texas. We are still working out all the details, but long story short, they offered me a fully remote position."

Joel was convinced the smile was never going to leave his face.

"Take me home, Joel," you told him. He pressed one more gentle kiss against your lips before draping an arm around your shoulders, picking up your bag, and leading you back the way he came.

As you walked out of the airport, the rest of your luggage unfortunately on its way to New York City, he realized that his fantasy was actually coming true. He had everything he could ever want. Everything he ever dreamed of became reality right before his very eyes.

He finally belonged to somebody who would be there for him and his daughter. Somebody who loved them and chose them and didn't abandon them.

And now that he had you, he was never going to let you go.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywuanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin @daddy-dins-girl @jessthebaker @seratuyo @wh0reforbucknasty @paleidiot @misstokyo7love @runningmom94 @mandoisapunk @marantha @missladym1981 @mybworlds @hologramgrlluvr @txtattoostark @jay-mach - if you are crossed out, it won't let me tag you

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frogchiro · 7 months

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I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THANK YOU FOR THIS #i could go on for hours ;;#gladiator au #gladiator!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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andersonlore · 5 months

Text

eighteen+, mdni.

jock!abby who plays soccer is so head-over heels in love with you, but she promises to keep what you have going just between the two of you. ellie’s your best friend and the two of them can’t stand each other but two months ago at some stupid frat party, too many beers and three joints later abby was eating you out like her life depended on it. you were too high, and she was too drunk but god was she fucking you so damn good. strong arms pinning you to the edge of the bed, as her mouth sucked on your bundle of nerves, before she would let go, letting her tongue soothe over your clit and you moaning her name like a prayer in the process.

jock!abby talks you through it the entire time, and she’s so stupidly pretty with her blonde locks falling over her face like a golden waterfall. her blue eyes are so dark, they’re almost gray and then she has two fingers inside you. they’re thick and long and she’s reaching places you can’t. still, her words making you whine over and over, your hips moving uncontrollably but she pins them down with her brute force.

“Yeah, baby, I know how good this feels. I’m so fucking wet right now from this pretty pussy. You taste so good, baby. I could just eat you up forever. Want me to stay here, crushed by these pretty thighs of yours?”

jock!abby nearly crumbles when she rubs her cunt on top of yours, clits nudging against each other as you practically scream. you know this won’t be the only time you stumble into her bed, you know the next time you’ll be completely sober because god, does abby know how to fuck. she finds a rhythm that’s good for the both of you and she takes control on top. abby can’t help but think about how perfect the two of you fit together, her thighs against yours but she needs a better angle. so, she lifts your leg and places it on her shoulder and you want to come right there.

jock!abby can hear your sweet slick against her, her thighs, god it’s everywhere. she wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve dripped to her sheets, not that she minds. she’s fucking you so hard and you can feel a shiver run down your spine. you want to stay like this forever. her pussy feels so good against yours. you know this shouldn’t be happening. you shouldn’t be fucking ellie’s nemesis but god, the devil has never felt better.

“Be a good girl, baby. Come for me. I’m so close just need to feel your cum on me, need to feel it on my cunt. Please baby, show me how much you want this. Fuck, baby, right there. Yeah? Such a good fucking girl. Fuuucckkkkk.”

jock!abby comes with you, and your body jolts as you feel her slick stick to your swollen lips, it’s so messy and utterly fucking divine, sending both of you into pure euphoria. her biceps are so big, and she holds her weight as she devours your mouth with hers. her skilled tongue staking claim on you. fuck she feels exquisite and her wet pussy is still against yours and you never want her to move. all you want is her sweet, freckled face and the nectar you’re sure tastes delightful as honey, tucked between her thighs.

“You did so well, baby. Now, let’s see how good this pretty cunt takes my cock, huh? What do you think about that, gorgeous?”

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okwonyo · 2 months

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when you call them ‘babe’.

ᙏ̤̫ ⠀엔하이픈 ♡ female reader & revamped! fluff potential friends2lovers + cw. not-proofread skinship pet-names 0.6k ｜ ( bookshelf )

heeseung would smile so widely, happiness filling his body as soon as the words leave the barrier of your lips. a dangerously charming smile drawing on his lips as he leans towards you and admiration growing all over his eyes as he watches your cheeks get redder as he’d get closer, “call me that again, please..” he’d ask you.. you’d, of course, succumb; get ready, he’d ask you to do it over and over again, never seeming like he is getting tired of it.

jongseong would ask you if you need anything immediately after you call him that. being slightly skeptical about your cute smile and weirdly shiny eyes, he’d look at you from up to down with a perplexed expression. “what do you want?” he’d ask with a sigh, acting as if he is annoyed; well, maybe he is, with himself because he knows he can’t refuse you anything— especially if you call him ‘babe’ out of nowhere..

jaeyun would instantly start stupidly giggle. flushed face and beautiful smile showing up, he’d not be able to stop right after the letters of that heavenly pet-name forms on your lips; “me?” he’d bump his shoulder against yours as his smile gets wider, “i’m baby?” you’d give him a knowing look, confirming his question. and, he’d just look so, so cute that you’d be obligated to call him like that everytime you are together.

sunghoon would malfunction immediately, you’d be able to see his mind going worriedly blank and every thought behind his eyes fading out. because.. did the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on, just.. called him ‘baby’ without any warning? you’d have to shake him out of his trance by clapping your hands a few times in front of his face, and even after that; his eyes would still grow wide and a pink taint would slowly appear on his face.. with a slight grin with it as-well.

seonwoo would immediately flush, feeling warm all over his body suddenly— he’d have to hide his face in a way or one another; putting his face in his head or turning his head away so you don’t see his obvious shyness. i mean: if it was over texts, it would be totally okay! he knows how to flirt back and he is far enough from you to not feel too pathetic over his own reactions.. but in real life, it’s totally different. his heart would almost jump off his chest.

jungwon would not let you get away with this in any shape or form. he’d have that stupid smirk you’d want to wipe away from his face— maybe, with a little kiss..— and a arm coming around your shoulder after you, unfortunately, let the word slip out from the barrier of your lips. “did i hear that right?” he’d tease, pulling your side closer to his, “can i call you that aswell or.. do you prefer something cuter like ‘my pretty gi—” you’d push him away before he gets to finish.

riki would absentmindedly go with flow, not even noticing that there is something off, he’d respond with a “how are you, love?” without thinking much about; completely distracted by your heart-throbbing smile. but, after you left and he’d start replaying that interaction in his head with rosy cheeks and a tender smile, like he always does; he’d suddenly realize, utterly shocked on how he didn’t even notice and how your smile can easily distract him..

since you pretties voted for this! >3<

taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @nwjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @sulkygyu @byhees @jwnghyuns @sleepyxxhead @baevsxii @nxzz-skz @who-tf-soddhi @armydrcamers

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bellawoso · 4 months

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Enchanted

Ona Batlle x fem!reader

-> Ona being a flustered mess around her ‘cute doctor’

Definition of love at first sight for my darling onita!!

Ona Batlle hated medics. It wasn’t that she hated them as people, she actually really admired people who dedicated most of their youth studying to help others. What Ona Batlle hated was being treated by medics. During both training and matches Ona would go to extreme measures just to hide an injury so that she wasn’t sent away to ‘waste’ valuable time that she could have been playing football as she says.

However, due to the amount of time she has been caught attempting to hide her pain, Ona’s hate for being seen by medics is infamously known by every player in the Barcelona Femeni team.

So therefore when Ona went down due to a mistimed slide tackle which resulted in someone’s studs harshly connecting with her ribs, Alexia’s ‘hawk eyes’ as Ona calls them, immediately noticed the wince that Ona tried to suppress with every step she took in attempt to ‘walk it off’.

“Off now Ona.”

At hearing this Ona’s eyes widened in shock as she realised she had been caught, everyone including Ona knew that it was useless trying to argue with Alexia, who was the most stubborn player on the team. In attempt to show the captain her annoyance, Ona let out an exaggerated sigh, which was ignored by Alexia, who instead shooed the defender off the pitch.

Ona made a point to walk as slowly as possible off the pitch and shoot a harsh glare at the player who injured her. Ona was annoyed. She had been deeply looking forward to the match against Real Madrid, and was excited to assist Barcelona in keeping their winning streak against them, only to be sent off just 27minutes into the game which she suspected she would have been playing full time for.

When she got to the sidelines the physios told the young spaniard to head to medical room 5 for a scan to check for broken ribs making the brunette internally groan at the possibility of having to miss any more time playing football due to some broken bones.

———————————————————————

When Ona eventually arrived at medical room 5, she had a mental battle while staring at a spot on the floor whether she should stay and get checked by a professional or go back to the locker rooms and get a long relaxing shower while it was quiet. However, her train of thoughts was interrupted by the door suddenly clicking open and a soft voice grasping her attention.

“Hello, can I help you?”

Ona was about to reject your offer and return back to the locker rooms, but as she looked up to match a face to the voice, her future words of dismissal died on her tongue.

“Oh- uh, t-the physios. My ribs.”

Ona internally cursed herself at her unusual nervousness and flustered state. She wouldn’t admit it but she also cursed you for making her feel like there were a million butterflies in her stomach, and she prayed that you mistook the blush on her cheeks for a visual of the past half hour she had spent running around the pitch.

“Of course, if you’d like to come in? What’s your name?”

Ona however had stupidly decided to try act casual by taking a large gulp out of her water bottle, but had hurriedly swallowed it in order to not leave your question waiting, which resulted in the brunette entering a coughing and choking fit. You quickly sprung to action and rubbed soothing circles onto the spaniards back until the coughing subsided, and Ona felt the tips of her ears burn as she looked at the ground.

The silence didn’t last for long though, as it was almost instantly interrupted by laughter that filled the air. Ona hated it. Ona was used to making girls laugh after a sarcastic quip she made in a bar, when she flirted her ways into someone’s bed, however Ona was definitely not used to a girl laughing at her, after she had almost basically died due to how much of a blushing mess you reduced her to.

However, as much as Ona hated your laugh, she could not resist the tugging of the corner of her lips at the soft giggles that you emitted. Ona was down bad instantly.

“Hola, soy y/n.” You said with a cheeky grin adorned on your face which made Ona swoon.

The brunette couldn’t help but chuckle at the heavy northern accent coating your words.

“Your pronunciation is terrible.” The defender replied with a smirk of her own.

“As is yours.” You said, but the truth is, Ona’s pronunciation was practically flawless, but she didn’t need to know that.

“No it isn’t, my pronunciation is perfect.” Ona said.

“Arrogance looks good on you.” You replied as you looked into her eyes. As cliché as it sounds, Ona’s eyes were beautiful, a gorgeous deep brown with specks of gold and green littered near her pupils. Little did you know Ona was also admiring your eyes aswell.

After sitting her down on the examination bed and taking some quick x-rays of her ribs, you ruled out the possibility of them being broken, and instead decided to feel the area to see the extent of the bruising.

At the sight of her abs up this close your breath hitched, and you prayed that Ona didn’t hear, on any other day Ona would have noticed and would make an effort to tease you for it, but today Ona was fully focused into trying to not let you see the effect you had on her this close.

At first, Ona relished the addictive feeling of your cold finger tips trailing around the area, but as the gentle touches faded into harsh prodding at the people and blue tinged skin, Ona’s wince became apparent for you.

As soon as you noticed Ona’s discomfort, you were quick to mutter a soft apology, and while Ona thought about her embarrassing first encounter with you, she realised something that she felt like kicking herself for. Ona had forgot to tell you her name.

Of course you knew who Ona Batlle was, your studies the entire team after you scored the job as their personal doctor, but you hoped that asking Ona her name would help you two get to know each other on a personal level.

“Ona.”was all the spaniard uttered quietly.

“What was that?”

“My name. My name is Ona.”

As you looked down at her, you couldn’t help but notice the dozens of freckles littered on her nose, and couldn’t help but smile softly at the defender.

You placed an ice pack onto the bruised area, strapping it to her skin with a bandage, then tugged her shirt back down and Ona took this as her que to sit up and wait for your diagnosis.

“Well Ona I’m happy to say that you have no broken ribs but you do have severe bruising in your ribs so I would recommend sitting out the next match to prevent further injuries, okay?”

Normally Ona would have freaked out at the idea of not being able to play the next match, and would have probably argued with the doctor until they told her she could play. However, with you Ona wanted nothing more than to listen to and respect your judgement. Ona knew she had fallen for you.

As you followed her to the door, the spaniard turned around to see you a last time before she left.

“Bye y/n”

“See you around Ona” You said with a grin.

———————————————————————

As Ona walked into the locker room she was shocked to be met with her teammates emerging from the showers and going to get dressed. How much time had she spent with you?

As her teammates noticed her arrival, Ona was immediately faced with questions about her change of opinions on medics, its safe to say that no one actually thought Ona would actually go to the medical room.

Patri immediately came over to her and bombarded her with questions.

“Why did you go to the medics?”

“Are your ribs broken?”

“Why are you happy after returning?”

Fortunately Ingrid came to Ona’s rescue and led the brunette over to where Alexia and Mapi were sat. The two best friends stopped their conversation as soon as Ona neared them, also confused at why Ona actually went to the medic.

“I can’t believe she actually went” Mapi said under her breath.

Unluckily for her, Ona heard.

“I went because they told me to” the defender said with a scowl upon her face. To which Alexia raised a brow in disbelief.

The questioning was soon interupted at the sound of the locker room door bursting open, making the multiple conversations stop.

But upon seeing who entered, Ona wished the ground would open and swallow her whole to save her from the relentless teasing she is bound to receive from the team after this.

There you were, stood at the doorway looking around the room until your eyes made contact with Ona’s and you offered her the same reassuring smile that Ona fell in love with.

You rushed up to the spaniard, only to hold out your hand.

Dammit. Her water bottle.

“Here you forgot this, but try not to choke this time” you said with your signature cheeky grin, before saying “adios” and turning to leave.

“B-bye y/n” Ona said, her flustered state returning at the realisation that her whole team had found out what convinced her to go to the medic, you turned around to shoot her a smile until the sound of the door clicked behind you.

“Because we told you to, huh?” Alexia said with a teasing smirk.

“Shut up, she was cute”

———————————————————————

A/N : There will be a part two to this, and hopefully I will have it written by the end of this week! Feel free to send in requests for your favourite footballers! 🤍

#ona batlle x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle #lucy bronze #keira walsh #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen #fc barcelona #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #Spotify

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onlymingyus · 2 months

Text

Love Scene (svthub's cupid for you collab)

pairing; choi seungcheol x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; alcohol, poor knowledge of wine (on my part), pet names, seungcheol is a simp, unprotected sex, manhandling/cheol lifts the reader, mentions of the readers lipstick color (could look different on all skin tones), begging, slight dom!seungcheol, big dick!seungcheol, lingerie kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, cum eating, breeding kink, aftercare

w/c; 5.3k

svthub cupid for you masterlist

a/n; this is part of the svthub cupid for you collab valentine's gift exchange event. my fic is for my valentine @multi-kpop-fanfics. i hope you enjoy this wifey. i had a lot of fun writing cheollie for you. happy valentines day. i love you. thank you to @wongyuseokie and @onlyhuis for proofreading for me!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Seungcheol smiles against the wine glass pursed on his lips. You looked beautiful as you listened to the woman drone on about the notes and undertones of the wine that she had been pouring for the two of you to try, but Seungcheol had stopped paying attention three bottles ago.

“This one is a Cabernet Sauvignon.”

You hum along with the woman’s words as you bring the glass to your lips, taking a sip of the dark red liquid and letting the dry wine rest on your tongue, trying to taste the notes she was explaining even as you feel Seungcheol’s eyes on your face.

“A personal favorite and one I know a lot of couples tend to want to take home, especially on evenings like this. Notes of cranberries and dark chocolate. What do you think, Seungcheol?”

Hearing his name from the host, your boyfriend smiles, looking away from you to pick up the glass, tipping it back quicker than you had. You watch as he swirls the liquid on his tongue, tilting his head only to purse his lips and look at yours as you let them part ever so slightly in amusement.

“Not my favorite, honestly. Especially if I’m buying a bottle for Valentine’s Day. I want something sweet. Something that will make me feel as good as I do when I look at her.”

He was being ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but look away, feeling your cheeks burning at his attempts to be sweet. The woman laughs, reaching for the glasses in front of you, and Seungcheol pulls them back towards her before she searches her inventory for the perfect choice as you shake your head.

“Seriously, Cheol?”

Smiling, Seungcheol leans to press his lips against your warm cheek, chuckling at the heat under his lips even as you try to pull away, feeling embarrassed by his public display of attention.

“Of course, I’m serious, Y/N. It’s Valentine’s Day. If there was any day for me to be as cheesy as possible, it’s today, and you look beautiful. I can’t help it… I think Cupid shot me in the ass because I’m head over heels for you, baby.”

Scoffing, you push Seungcheol away, listening to his laughter, even as you attempt to hide your laugh, muttering about how stupid he is.

“Stupidly in love with you.”

"Ya, could you shut up Choi Seungcheol?”

Turning back towards you and a now playfully pouty Seungcheol, the woman laughs under her breath as she shows you both a different bottle of wine.

“This is a Chateau Chantal Cherry Port. This is the sort of dessert wine I would recommend serving with chocolate. Perfect for a day like today.”

Seungcheol watches your lips pull up into a smile as the dark liquid is poured into two small port glasses and offered to you. He lets you taste it first, listening to the soft sound of appreciation that escapes your lips before he tilts his glass back and his eyes widen.

“Oh wow…”

You can only nod along as you watch your boyfriend this time. He had spent the day “stupidly in love” with you, but now you were almost drunk with how much you were clearly enamored with the man.

“Rich cherries with a bit of tobacco and wood smoke depth makes this port special."

Neither of you were paying attention to your host at this point, as Seungcheol notices you looking at him, the glass resting on his lips as he finishes what is left in his glass. He needed to get you out of here. What made this special was you, not any underlying notes or fruits or what barrel the wine had been aged in.

“We’ll take a bottle.”

You smile, leaning your head back against the wall next to your front door, as Seungcheol’s lips press against the column of your throat. He had barely kept his hands to himself the entire drive home, but you weren’t complaining. You were on fire for him, and it would seem the feeling was mutual.

Groaning against your skin, Seungcheol’s fingers slide along your arm to your wrist, where your fingers are wrapped around a blue jasmine bouquet he had stopped to pick up on the way home. He tried to be careful, dragging your arm up the wall, knowing you were holding the flowers, but he could feel petals hitting his shirt and hear the soft fluttering as they fell to the ground.

“Cheol…”

His brows furrowing at the level of need in your voice as you say his name, Seungcheol rakes his teeth against your throat before pulling back to look at your pretty face, leaning in to press his plush lips to yours. Your lips were almost the same color as the wine that he had bought for the two of you to share for the night, and it was driving him crazy.

You whimper against his lips, and Seungcheol feels his cock starting to stiffen in his pants, causing him to hiss and lean his forehead against yours in an effort to calm himself down. Your free hand was tugging at his dress shirt under his jacket, pulling it from his pants already, but he had two bags in his hand and a plan for the evening before he wanted to have you on his cock.

“You are so fucking perfect. I love you so much.”

Seungcheol feels your smile against his cheek as he leans to brush his lips against your ear to whisper in your ear. He could feel the chill bumps spreading along your skin. As hard as he was making this for himself, he knew it was just as difficult for you not to beg him to take you to bed.

“My forever valentine.”

Your fingernails almost rip at Seungcheol’s shirt as you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear, but his words cause your heart to swell. He was cheesy, and you couldn’t help but smile, but he was making you fall in love with him all over again.

“I love you too, Cheol. I–can we just..."

He knew what you were going to ask. Smiling, Seungcheol shakes his head, making you whine as he pulls back from you, only stopping to kiss you gently before taking your free hand and guiding you towards the kitchen.

“Not yet. Patience, darling.”

You did want to have patience, but as you followed Seungcheol into the kitchen, his fingers falling from yours as he laid his bags on the island, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You knew how important today was to him. Every day with you was important to him, but holidays, no matter how commercial and silly they really were, were important if they could be spent with you and celebrating you.

“Here, sit down, baby. Let me grab a couple of things.”

Seungcheol watches you smile as he turns the swiveling high bar stool towards you. He loved your smile. He loved how easily he could make you happy on days like this. Just little actions would have you smiling and giggling for him, and that had Seuncheol’s chest feeling tight with love.

Turning you back towards the island, Seungcheol leans to kiss your cheek, listening to your soft laughter as he leaves you watching him. He could hear you shifting behind him, but he kept himself to his task: two wine glasses, a plate, and a fork. No matter how much he wanted to take you to bed right away, he needed to practice the patience he expected you to have.

Crossing your arms on the counter, you lay your chin on your hand, tilting your head slightly while watching your boyfriend complete his tasks. He was effortlessly handsome, and you could imagine every day of the rest of your life spent like this. He made it as easy as breathing.

He smiled as he looked at you fondly, seeing you with your head resting on the counter. Seungcheol reaches for the bags, taking out the bottle of wine from the vineyard along with a plain box that he had been insistent on stopping to get on the way home.

“You are so cute. I can’t stand when you look at me like that.” You smile once again, and Seungcheol’s heart beats quicker. “You make it hard for me to tell you no.”

“Then why would you ever tell me no, Cheol?”

Shaking his head, Seungcheol carefully opens the wine, letting out a sigh as he holds one of the delicate wine glasses in his left hand and pours some of the deep red liquid into it.

“I rarely do. I just ask for patience, like right now. I want to do this in the right order. I got you nice things; I want to enjoy them with you and then enjoy you. Is that so terrible?”

Biting at your lips, you feel your cheeks burning at Seungcheol’s words and his meaning. He was right. You knew he had spoiled you in so many ways, over and over again. Today was no different. You watched how he held the wine glass in his fingers, and it reminded you of how he held you on so many occasions, as if you’d break, like you were precious.

“It’s not… I just want you so much. I miss you already.”

Sliding the glass across the bar to you, Seungcheol grins, tilting his head at your wording. You missed him? He was right in front of you, albeit separated by some quartz and wood, but he knew what you meant; he would still make you say it.

“Is that so? Sweetheart, I’m right here. How could you possibly–”

"Cheol, you know what I mean.”

Cutting off his words, you whine out your own, causing Seungcheol to chuckle as he pours his own glass of the port before putting the bottle to the side, picking up his glass, and bringing it to his nose as he swirls the liquid gently in the glass.

“Why don’t you just tell me, Princess?"

It wasn’t a question; rather, it was a request, a command. Licking your lips, your eyes move to your wine glass, your fingers running over the stem as your lips pull up into a small smirk, knowing Seungcheol’s eyes are on you. You know he’s watching as you pout your lips slightly and bat your lashes in a way that drives him crazy.

“I miss your lips on mine; I miss them on my skin. I want you inside of me, baby.”

Tipping his glass back against his lips, Seungcheol takes a breath through his nose as the wine hits his tongue when you finally tell him what he wants to hear. He would give you what you wanted in due time. Shaking his head, Seungcheol smiles against the delicate glass, lowering his eyes to meet yours as you take your first sip of the wine, letting out a small happy sound to the taste.

“And I want to be inside of you, and I will be if you can be patient with me. I have a treat for you. It’s a special day, remember?”

You smile, lifting your shoulders as you nod in response, watching Seungcheol turn the plain white box towards you. You could smell the sweet dessert, but you weren’t entirely sure what it was. It wasn’t until he lifted the lid that your mouth started to water, and you kicked your feet out of happiness.

“My favorite…”

“Mm, only the best for you, darling. The last slice of red velvet cake from your favorite bakery. I called ahead to make sure she put it back for me. Are you happy?”

Lifting the fork, Seungcheol smiles, watching you nod as he cuts off the tip of the cake before turning the bite towards you and letting you lean in to take it from the fork. Watching your eyes close and listening to the sound of your pleasure from enjoying your favorite dessert causes his smile to widen, with his eyes closing very slightly. It was almost better than sharing it with you, just watching you enjoy it on your own.

“It’s perfect. You have to try some. It’s perfect with the port. Let me?”

With your fingers sliding over his, you take the fork from Seungcheol, cutting off the next bite of red velvet cake and offering it to him as he continues to smile at you. It’s only after urging him to take it, the crumb of the cake brushing against his lips, that your boyfriend takes the bite from the fork, his brows furrowing to the sweet taste, and he closes his eyes, savoring it.

Taking another bite, you hum happily as Seungcheol runs his thumb along his lips to push away any remaining crumbs. Watching you eat, Seungcheol brings his wine to his lips with a smile as he uses his free hand to scroll through his phone. The atmosphere was almost perfect. The two of you in the comfort of your house, your favorite cake in front of you, shared the perfect dessert wine, but the sound of music made you look surprised.

“Dance with me?”

Seungcheol’s fingers run along your hand as you drop the fork on the mostly empty plate as Florence & The Machine’s Stand by Me plays quietly from the phone resting on the kitchen counter. You can only nod, letting your boyfriend spin your chair away from the island as he grins at you and your serious expression. Helping you down from the stool, Seungcheol slides his fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he takes the lead, swaying with you to the rhythm of the music.

“What is that look for? It’s your favorite…”

Of course, it was. Of course, he remembered. Leaning your cheek against his shoulder, you smile, closing your eyes as Seungcheol hums along with the words to the song until you finally speak.

“This is perfect, Cheol. You’ve done too much.”

Humming as he considers your words, Seungcheol leans his head back so he can look down at you, causing you to look up at him as he does. You watch as he shakes his head, finally disagreeing with you. Gentle fingers caress your cheek before Seungcheol allows his hand to rest against the side of your neck, keeping you grounded as if you might float away from him.

“Never enough. I love you, and it’s Valentine’s day… I’m just enjoying your company. I’m enjoying that pretty look on your face when you like something.”

Pouting slightly, you watch as Seungcheol smiles into a laugh, leaning to gently press his lips against your pout.

“No more pouting, sweetheart. Finish this dance with me….hm?”

Your lips pull up against Seungcheol’s lips as his fingers trail along your neck and up against the side of your hair. Your skin was starting to feel warm again at his attention. You were wanting him badly again, feeling his body so close to yours even as the sweet words of the song attempted to keep you in the moment.

Hearing your soft whimper when he pulls back from your lips, Seungcheol bites at his bottom lip as he lets you turn in front of him, his fingers loosely holding yours. With a gentle tug, he pulls you back into his arms as the song ends, and your eyes once again find his desire burning just under the surface.

Seungcheol smiles, his teeth slowly sliding from his bottom lip as he shakes his head, trying to keep himself in check as you look at him like that. You listen to his gentle sigh as you feel his fingers work the zipper of your dress down your back. The weight of the material causes your dress to slide forward on your shoulders when Seungcheol takes a step back from you to press his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up towards him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today? How much I love you in this dress?”

Watching you smile, your head tilting, Seungcheol trails his fingers back up your arms to where your dress was precariously resting on your shoulders. With a gentle brush of his fingers, your dress falls to the floor, a discarded pile at your feet as his eyes move over your body.

“But I love this even more. Shit, baby…”

Seungcheol groans, moving his hands to your waist before scratching his nails lightly down to your hips to rest his palms over the burgundy lace that covered your body. You were driving him crazy, his cock now throbbing hard in his pants as Seungcheol’s eyes dilated, looking at you in the bodysuit.

“Do you like it?”

Letting out a breath at your question, Seungcheol shakes his head, trying to come up with the right words, before just taking a step back and lifting his hand to rub his palm over his mouth in awe. Watching you turn in front of him, showing him every angle, your boyfriend can only scoff as you let out a playful laugh, lowering your lashes when you face him once again. That was the last straw.

“Don’t ask silly questions, sweetheart.”

You start to defend yourself when you find yourself lifted off your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you smile against Seungcheol’s lips as he groans to the feeling of your body flush with his as he starts the walk towards the bedroom.

“I remember how to walk, Cheol.”

“I don’t give a fuck." Your back hits the bed, and you feel the breath get knocked out of your lungs as Seungcheol looks down at you from the side of the bed like you were something to eat. “I wanted you here at my pace."

Seungcheol grins as your teeth catch your red lips, pulling at them as you try to hide how much you like his words. He knew how much you liked him manhandling you and how much you were going to like everything that was going to happen to you.

“Mm, I’m here. What are you going to do with me now, sir?"

Fuck, you were trying to kill him. Shaking his head, Seungcheol chuckles as you tease him with not only your words but also your toes running along the inseam of his dress pants. He groans as you bite your lips, working your foot all that much closer towards his leaking cock, still trapped behind layers of clothing.

“Exactly what you asked me for in the kitchen, darling.”

Watching Seungcheol’s hands move along his torso to undo his shirt, you laugh quietly at his words, knowing he would keep his promise. Your eyes follow his every move just as they do when your back arches and your legs cross, allowing you to press your thighs together, giving you some much needed relief from the arousal soaking into the lace barely covering your pussy.

Clothes hit the floor in different corners until Seungcheol finally lets out a breath of relief, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking himself slowly. With his free hand, he pries your legs open, only to then bring down his palm hard on your inner thigh, granting himself a half moan, half whine from your pretty lips to the pleasurable sting.

“Keep your legs open. With how you are acting, I might as well have let you grind on a pillow while I was getting undressed, princess. Are you that fucking needy?”

You can only furrow your brows and nod, your fingers running along the lace covering your breasts and stomach as Seungcheol’s hands press into your thighs and trace your curves along your hips to your ass and back to your thighs once again.

“Dying to be touched that badly? Are you ruining your present for me? I liked this piece of lingerie, but I’m more than willing," You whined, hearing and feeling the sound of lace ripping at your hips as Seungcheol’s fingers dug into the delicate material. “To replace it. I’m not, however, patient enough to fucking figure out how to get you out of it. I’d rather fuck you while you are in it.”

Lifting your hips, your eyes move down to where Seungcheol’s fingers slide under the torn lace. You watch as he smirks, digging his fingers into the burgundy material, watching how easily it gives way to his strength before he moves his fingers to the center of your legs, running two fingers over the wet patch that had grown exponentially with his actions.

“You like that idea, don’t you, my pretty little slut?”

Seungcheol watches you lick your lips before you nod and rock your hips against his fingers. He knew you like the back of his hand.

“Yes…fuck. Please, Cheol? I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve wanted you all day long.”

You were so greedy, and he loved that about you. He was just as greedy, if not more. Grinning, Seungcheol leans down to run his tongue along the lace as he hooks a finger under it. Soon, your whines turn into full blown moans as Seungcheol runs his knuckle along your folds before circling your leaking entrance slowly with his index finger.

Pushing into your soft, tight walls, Seungcheol groans against the wet lace, furrowing his brows. You were addictive, from your sounds to your taste. He knew you didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He could feel you squeezing around his finger like a vice, and that already had his cock twitching against your thigh at the thought of being inside of you.

“Please….just —”

You let out a soft, breathy whine as Seungcheol kisses your thigh, sliding a second finger into you beside his first. You wanted to complain that it wasn’t his cock, but when he rolls his fingers back towards the top of your pussy with perfect precision, the words leave your mind as quickly as they had entered them.

Seungcheol grunts, running his lips against your soft skin, feeling your slick arousal coating his fingers. He wanted to get his tongue on you. He wanted this lace out of his way, but at the same time, he didn’t want it off of you. Seungcheol hadn’t been lying about wanting to fuck you in it, so there was only one thing to be done.

“Cheol!”

A smirk causes Seungcheol’s lips to pull up to one side when you yell his name, feeling your lingerie give way between your legs as he uses his fingers to rip the lace apart. With nothing in his way, Seungcheol slides his fingers back into your warm pussy and runs his tongue between your folds, groaning as he circles the tip around your clit, feeling you buck your hips up against his mouth.

You feel your stomach tightening as your orgasm starts to take over quickly with Seungcheol’s relentless actions, but it isn’t until a third finger is carefully worked in with the others that you fall over the edge. Your head thrown back against the bedding, you lace your fingers into Seungcheol’s hair, moaning his name as you cum around his fingers, feeling him smile against your folds.

“Mm…fuck.”

His words are muffled against your pussy as Seungcheol lets his fingers carefully slip from you, and his tongue replaces them in order to collect as much of your cum as possible. Only when your thighs shake around his head and you whimper his name, begging for him to give you a break, does Seungcheol move his mouth from between your legs, opting to press soft, wet kisses to your thighs.

“You are trying to kill me.”

Lips once again, pulling up at your words, Seungcheol shakes his head, nipping at your thigh, causing you to whine at feeling overstimulated once again, tugging at his hair to make him stop.

“I’m not. I just like watching you tremble like that. You are so fucking pretty. You taste so good. I could eat you out all day long.”

You wanted to reiterate your words after hearing his. It felt like he was trying to kill you as you felt Seungcheol’s hands sliding along your legs and up your sides as he moved between your legs to lay over you. You found yourself pouting only to hear him chuckle and to feel Seungcheol’s lips press against yours to soften the pout before the kiss turned into something much deeper and filled with longing.

Seungcheol’s fingers press into your side next to your breast before he groans against your lips, rolling his hips to meet yours and feeling your wet folds against his aching cock. You were warm and wet, and if anyone felt like they were dying right now, it was him. He wanted to give you time to calm down after your first orgasm, but he was also aching to be inside of you after prepping you.

“Mm, baby, you feel so good. I just…fuck.”

You could hear the strain in his voice as you felt him rutting between your legs. Your thighs were still trembling; all you could manage were soft moans and begs against Seungcheol’s lips for him to get inside of you. At first, you aren’t sure he understands you until you feel the head of his cock press into you, and his hips slowly move to meet yours.

The stretch, even after all of his prep, is intense. Seungcheol is a large man, from his arms to his chest and all the way to his cock, now buried inside of you as he stays still for a moment, waiting for you to adjust. Eyes locked on your face, Seungcheol takes a deep breath, feeling your walls tighten around him, causing his head to spin before you take a breath of your own and whisper his name.

“Pl—please…need it. I want you to. You feel so good, baby. You are so big, Cheol.”

Everything you said was bad for Seungcheol’s ego. You were always making him feel like he was the most important thing in the world and in the bedroom like he was the only man you would ever need again in your life. That was all he needed and wanted. He wanted you ruined for anyone else. He wanted to leave an imprint of himself inside of you so that you would never forget that you were his, and if you needed a reminder, he would be there every single day of your life to give it to you.

Lips brushing against your ear, Seungcheol groans your name like a prayer. His pace quickens as he buries his cock deep inside of you. Pulling your leg up to his hip, he hisses at the feeling of your nails scratching at his biceps before thrusting hard, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Put your leg around me, baby. I want you to cum on my cock.” You nod, letting him help you wrap your leg around his hip so that your foot rests on the top of his ass, the new angle causing you to see stars along with his words. “I fucking love the feeling of your cum on my dick, baby. Give it to me."

Between Seungcheol’s words and the way his cock was dragging along your walls, you didn’t stand a chance of lasting much longer. The coil winding tighter and tighter snaps as Seungcheol’s teeth rake along the side of your neck, and you see white.

With your walls gripping his cock like a vice, Seungcheol groans against your neck, his breath caught in his throat as he feels your cum coat his length with every deep thrust into your heavenly pussy. Holding your thigh tightly, Seungcheol leans back to look down at you as he starts to chase his own high.

"God, I’m so close. Wanna leave you full of me...dripping, so I can fuck it back into you.”

Your cheeks burn at Seungcheol’s dirty mouth, and your eyes close, causing him to chuckle before you hear his pleasured groan, knowing he truly is getting close. You could feel him getting closer. All the signs that you had grown to know over your time with him were the same. The way he would pull you closer, his hand almost bruising your skin, his hot breath on your jaw, and the way he would bury himself as deep as possible inside of you, intent on filling you fully.

Seungcheol’s choked groans fill your ears as he falls over the edge. His warm cum spilled into you, only to be fucked back into you with deep, smooth thrusts. Catching his breath, Seungcheol smiles as he feels cum begin to seep from you and between your thighs, knowing he had done exactly what he had promised.

Leaning back on his hand, Seungcheol groans. He helps you rest your leg back on the bed and off to the side as he continues to slowly push the mixture of his cum and yours back into your tender pussy. He could feel himself softening and how he was overstimulating himself, but it was worth it to hear your soft whimpers and to watch the cum drip from you and around his cock as you ran your fingers between your folds and through the sticky mess, much to his delight.

“Shit…yes. Does that feel good, baby? You gonna give me one more? Use that cum to get off around me one more time tonight."

Meeting your eyes, Seungcheol nods along with you as you roll your hips over his cock and your fingers, letting yourself cum one last time. Your eyes closing, and you let out a soft breath and whispered his name as your boyfriend slipped from you with a soft groan. You feel his plush, perfect lips work from your jaw to your lips before the bed feels suddenly empty for a few moments.

Exhaustion keeps you from searching for Seungcheol as he sits on the edge of the tub, running his fingers under the taps, letting the water come to the perfect temperature. Leaning towards the door every few seconds, he checks to make sure you haven’t moved, only to smile at seeing you breathing softly, your eyes still closed as you rest, waiting for him.

After a few minutes, you feel your lips once again press against yours, bringing you back to reality as Seungcheol’s arm moves under your back and the other under your legs. He simply grins against your cheek, hearing your soft mutters of how you could walk before he sits you on the toilet and runs his fingers over your hair, watching you finally open your eyes to look up at him.

“Hi…”

“Hi yourself. I ran a bath and brought the rest of our wine in here. Does that sound good?”

Nodding, you smile, causing him to do the same. You let him help you back to your feet once you were ready. Holding on to your arms, Seungcheol helps you into the bath before sliding in behind you and letting you rest your back on his chest, his fingers running along the stem of a wine glass, the other hand resting on your stomach.

You can’t help but smile as you bring your wine to your lips, taking a sip of the sweet wine before leaning your head back against his shoulder and feeling his lips press to the side of your head. You were exhausted, but this had been the perfect Valentine’s day. Seungcheol was the perfect Valentine, and he was your forever Valentine.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Seungcheol’s lips against your ear; his words cause your skin to erupt with chill bumps and for you to laugh into your words as you turn to meet his lips speaking against his.

“I love you too, Cheol. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

#seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svthub.collab #scoups smut #svt smut #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader

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kumezyzo · 3 months

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gojo satoru isn't the type to fall in love with your personality first. he's shallow. as much as you hoped and prayed that he wasn't, he was going on dates with the blonde bombshells that you thought were perfect in every physical way.

and he would fall in love with them after the first date. the first fuck, really. but after a momth, he relizes their after his money. his looks. his dick.

and he comes crying to you. every. single time. it gets so fucking exhausting. nursing him back to health. literally because he would only eat prepackaged meals and candy if it were up to him.

and then you would, stupidly, hope he would realize how much he loves you. you ignorantly fantasize what it would be like if he was sleeping in your lap because he loved you, not because he just cried for an hour straight and you were there for convenience. what would it be like if his pretty eyelashes weren't damp from crying and his tousled hair was because he liked your fingers in his hair, and not because he needed comfort?

he didn't truly know love. no one ever showed him that, even in his adult life. he was the greatest, and being the greatest came with people using him. but there were two exceptions to that. his best friends.

he didn't realize he loved suguru until he was gone. out of his life for good. and it ate him up more than any of the dumb blondes and good fucks he burned through every month. the reason he didn't know is because he thought rhats what true friendships were like.

being there with you for anything and everything. thinking about spending free time with them. lighting up every time you hear their name. your chest tightening at the sound of their laugh. your cheeks burning when they tease or compliment you. he didn't know that was being in love.

you would think that for how much he regretted not seeing it sooner for suguru, he'd see it with you. but he couldn't.

you tell someone all those warm feelings come from warm and unadulterated friendship, they'll be looking for something stronger. more love. why would they settle for the best feeling in the world when there could be something even better out there?

your friendship? oh, that's not the romantic love the old couples talk about. that's just good ol' friendship! what he feels for his slut of the week, now that has to be love. that lust and euphoria. far better than what he felt for you.

but just like his former best friend, it was too late when he realized.

did i just write this in five minutes because i got the idea before i went to bed....? yes. yes, i did... so ignore typos or anything. lowkey wanna write a pt.2 tho lol -Nony

edit: heres pt. 2

#jjk gojo #gojo angst #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #angst #jjk angst #satosugu #jjk #jjk geto #nony speaks #gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader

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0deadly-nightshade0 · 3 months

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Broken Him

summary - You change his mind

warning - mention of abuse! (not coryo)

Coriolanus Snow would not marry for love, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable, so weak.

Love makes people delusional and it once made him deluded.

Lucy gray

that name wrang in his head like an unstoppable fire alarm, his feelings angry, yet betrayed, sad? all he knew was that his firey feelings towards her made that fire alarm ring on and on.

So he married the person he cared the least for his.

His little wife.

His little wife that doted on him, that spent all her days, every minute, every second trying to please him.

He didn’t love her, he couldn’t,

Always stood at the door, waiting for him to come home, her pretty little pink 50s swing dress on, ballet flats adorned with bows, a row of pearls around her neck, resting gently over her collar bones.

She was happy.

She had to be.

There was no way, after marrying someone like him, much more attractive, higher rank, smarter.

A man who gave her anything her naïve little heart wanted.

A massive estate, bags, dresses and more.

Coriolanus walked in, expecting to see his darling wife stood by the door.

Nobody.

I look of confusion crossing his face.

“Wife?”

He somewhat shouts.

He walks along to her bedroom, cracking the door open slowly.

There you were.

his brows furrowed as he watched you take a long drag of your cigarette.

Your mascara running down you cheeks.

like watercolour paint.

continuing to water down, and dry in streaks.

the ash on the end not flicked off.

a glass of red wine in your hand, much different from your usual light sweet alcoholic drink.

You looked a state.

“Something on your mind?” He asks walking in, sitting next to you on the window seat.

You seem startled, shocked at his presence.

“I’m fine” you respond flatly, the moonlight illuminating your sad face in a way that makes him feel something.

not good.

“I know when your lying” He smirks, his piercing blue eyes examining every part of you.

“I could say the same for you” You snap, though your voice isn’t loud, and it shows a hint of sadness in it.

Coriolanus looked surprised, his little wife being so? so rude to him.

His faced shifted to a serious one, his eyes narrowed a little.

“Watch your tongue, wife.”

He knew what this was about, his love for you.

he could feel you slipping away from him.

“We both knew what this was. I don’t need to love you for us to have a successful marriage”

you start to stare out the window.

“I don’t want a successful marriage, I want someone who loves me.”

He was like a deer in headlights.

and it all started to dawn on him.

his sadness earlier at you not being by the door.

seeing you sad.

he was falling for you.

and he couldn’t let himself.

“I-I can’t love you” It was more an admission of defeat than an answer to your want.

“I know you can’t, but it was cruel for you to choose me and leave me in the dark about that, you don’t know the life I’ve lived, and you don’t know how you’ve ended all my hopes”

‘Shit.’ you thought.

stupidly you had brought your past into this.

He almost looks confused.

“Why the hope of love? Don’t you understand it makes you weak? and vulnerable?”

You think for a moment, how to explain love to a person that wishes not to be loved.

“But you have been loved, had people around you love you, you’ve had many people love you, it doesn’t make you weak it makes you stronger, having constant people in your life who love you and are willing to do anything for you”

Coriolanus was trying to see what the disconnect between to the two of you was.

“That love is a weakness because love is also a vulnerability. The people who you love the most are also the ones who can hurt you the most. If I love someone fully with my whole heart they also have the potential to completely destory me”

Lucy gray. that name pinged in his head again.

“Tigris? would she do that? Grandma’am? would she do that? no. Whoever has hurt you before didn’t love you, atleast not strongly. that I can say with one hundred percent certainty.”

you look over at him, giving him a sad smile.

that you were correct about.

his walls felt like they were crumbiling down.

never had he viewed her with such a high opinion.

that was a fair assumption.

one he hadn’t made.

Coriolanus pauses, Tigris, his cousin, did love him. And he was never worried about her being someone who could hurt him, because she couldn’t.

It was one very rare time coriolanus had been beaten in a debate of words.

“How do I know you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Because I couldn’t, I’ve loved someone, and the way they treated me, made me vow to never hurt anyone that loves me.”

“to treat people the best I can”

She couldn’t?

“I would feel to guilty, but I can’t force you into loving me”

Coriolanus paused again. You sounded similar to himself but instead of vowing to treat people the best he could, he had instead vowed himself never to love.

You were alike in so many ways, yet complete opposites.

how was this innocent little woman doing this to him.

he felt vulnerable.

“Who hurt you?”

“My father, he was very physically abusive, and I albeit atupidly, still loved him, but I vowed never to hurt someone who loves me, to never break them like he broke me”

Coriolanus took in your words, he couldn’t Imagine what that was like, still putting other first after that.

so kind, so pretty, and slightly smart.

“Aren’t you afraid of love hurting you again?”

you had to think.

“Nobody will ever love me, I barely leave this estate, you don’t love me, and I have no friends”

He did that.

and he felt awful.

he wanted you to himself, even if he didn’t love you.

listening to her words.

Coriolanus looked at his wife for a moment, contemplating his choices.

His marriage felt superficial compared to everything else he had dealt with before.

He married her becuase she was easy, innocent, naïve.

he had broken her.

and she had broken him.

“Kiss me”

He blurts out.

“C-Coriolanus I can’t, I won’t push you to do that kind of stuff.”

You shake your head.

Coriolanus took notice of your refusal.

“I ordered you to kiss me, now kiss me”

he says.

you gingerly graze your hands against his cheeks, kissing him softly.

Coriolanus felt his entire body warm up, you were like the water that set out all his firey thoughts.

The entire world could burn to the ground around you both and he wouldn’t care.

Your lips, your hands, your face, your body, he flet like he was in heaven.

You had broken him, and he was glad.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🎀

#tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #nympette #dollette #lana del rey

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damnelva · 3 months

Text

☆°•LUCIFER/PREGNANT!READER•°☆

You're married btw

You're taller than Lucifer

☆ He thought that the day you both got married was the happiest in his life. But he was wrong

☆ You were sitting on your bed, while Lucifer was standing in front of you. The duck he was so excited to show you now fell out of his hand. His face showed pure shock and disbelief

☆ "Wait, you are.. pregnant? Like, pregnant pregnant?? And from ME!??! I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!???"

☆ He laughed, jumped and cried at the same time. He run into your arms, hugging you and sobbing

☆ He got another chance to be a dad and this time he wouldn't fuck it up

☆ Oh lord, since that day, you didn't practically nothing. Lucifer did it for you. You just had to sit your beautiful ass down and be healthy for the child and yourself

☆ Lucifer couldn't be happier, no matter the time or circumstances. Nothing, absolutely NOTHING could wash away the stupidly cute smile on his face. Just the thought of being a father of two made him fall in love with you over again and even harder

☆ And the way he loved seeing you pregnant.. For him, you looked beautiful as ever before. Not like he didn't thought of you as the most gorgeous woman that has been ever created, but while caring his child.. HIS CHILD!!! It's just different kind of beauty

☆ Oh, also Charlie. She was as excited as her father. Vaggie hardy calmed her down. She never really thought of having a sibling, but now she realizes how much she wanted one. She already brought a lot baby clothes, even though it was incredibly hard to find some in hell.

☆ Lucifer will hug your belly every chance he gets (which is kind easy considering the hight difference between you two). Sometimes he will feel the child's little kicks."Luci, are you crying?" "No.." *Sobs quitly*

☆°• •°☆

☆ "Why can't I chose the child's name??" "Cause we can't call them Apple pie!" "WHY NOT!?"

☆ "I already bought clothes for our little angel!" "It's all about ducks.." "Exactly, it's gender neutral"

☆ *Cries cause of mood-swings* "Why are you crying..?" "Because you're crying!"

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #pregnant

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the-saltiest-saltine · 3 months

Text

Reservations and Repose

(Yan!Chrollo x Fem Reader)

@sukunasfavoritehole hopefully this is enough to tide you over until my ao3 finally gets an update hehe

Word count: ~7.3k

------

You’re naïve enough to believe Chrollo’s asleep. He loves that about you.

Warnings: NOT SFW, non -con thigh fucking, somnophilia, drugging, imagined not sfw scenarios etc

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT WAS 3/4 FINISHED THEN I FORGOT ABOUT IT my sincerest apologies.

Also this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 😥

Chrollo is very disappointed in you.

You let him kiss your cheek this morning following a deep sleep. You didn’t reciprocate, though he continues to see your progress and knows that an ever-hopeful yet can be added to the end of that statement. To some extent, the allowance of such an act could be chalked up to his acceptance of you, flaws and all, willing to appreciate the neutrality of it as opposed to ardent rejection. In a matter of weeks, you’ll be returning the gesture. And in a matter of months, you’ll be doing it gladly. Warmth, or perhaps weariness, has slowly but surely seeped its way into your actions recently, your shaky hands finding a place in his, fingers interlaced.

Is that to say he was under the impression that you’d completely given yourself to him? Absolutely not. There’s fear in your smiles, as much as they may have metamorphosed from obviously and mockingly forced to meek and endearing. Chrollo has shown you all that you know he can do. This has been enough to keep you relatively restrained over the months. If he showed you all that he knows he can do, you’d most likely curl up into a ball and sob until you dried out. That’s not necessary, though. It’ll never be.

Like many things, it wasn’t linear. It was a path that went upwards and downwards and forwards and backwards and in cycles, cycles that would always leave you curled up, sobbing in his arms, grasping onto him for whatever comfort it would give. But progress is progress, right?

Ignorantly, he began to believe the crumbs of affection, of acceptance, of acquiescence. Stupidly, he thought you were making progress. It’s been a significant amount of time since he was last this naïve. If he wasn’t so disgruntled by your transgression, he’d most likely bask in the nostalgic feeling. But he can’t, for the time being, because you’re trying to do something very rash.

As unfortunate as it is, you’re trying to leave him.

It’s audacious, having thought that the monumental power difference between you two had been thoroughly demonstrated on multiple occasions, a well established and silently acknowledged fact of your travels with him.

It’s irritating, although regarded with the same irritation as one would have with a pet goldfish trying to jump out of its tank. You silly thing, why do you want to abandon the place in which you are safe?

It doesn’t particularly make sense, though. He’s checked his cards - nothing suspicious has been bought in his name. No travel tickets or prepaid car hire. He’s even checked the jewellery collection - maybe you’d snatched up a nice necklace or bracelet or pair of diamond earrings to pawn off. But again, nothing. No suspicious bags have been packed. No loose tiles or floorboards or ceiling panels to hide supplies in. Your clothes are all neatly folded and hung in your wardrobe.

You’ve got something up your sleeve- something desperate and jittery and not fully thought out. Something that relies on luck and prayers far more than precision and blow-by-blow planning. He never particularly took you for a daredevil, but to see you get pushed to such a limit, to be forced against your own timid nature, is beyond satisfying. If he could pluck it out of you and analyse it under a microscope, he’d be elated. Or perhaps even, he supposes to himself, he’d be so fulfilled that he might abandon the current pathway of his life, aimless and bloody and cyclical, finally so consumed with his obsession over you that nothing else is valued in the slightest.

He can’t say he didn’t expect an ulterior motive for your apparent benevolence, at least initially, but for it to be kept up for this long? The stares felt almost too natural. The gradual lessening of your flinches when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the way your gaze would be drawn to him rather than away, even if only to flick away immediately - the subtleties were downright impressive. To be able to track everything simultaneously, to be able to remember to exhibit so many behaviours at once…Perhaps he should be taking acting lessons from you.

Chrollo had watched you, humming a pop tune this morning, cheekily shaking your hips from side to side as you fried some eggs, over easy, the notes sometimes interrupted with a sharp inhale between your teeth when the oil spat just a bit too high and would burn you ever-so-slightly. A domestic sight.

You’d let him give you another kiss on the cheek before he shrugged his coat on, giving you one last lingering glance before he’d walked out the door and into the hallway of the apartment, locking it with warm Nen made of comfort rather than capture. He gave you another cheek kiss (despite his ever-growing urge to dip lower) when he got home to the smell of spices and vegetables and the bubbling sound of a low simmer. You don’t fight them anymore, and barely even recoil now, a result of steady but slight crossing of boundaries - his record was eleven times in one day (at least, his record for when you were conscious) when he was feeling particularly affectionate, although you’d definitely soured up by the end.

The…fantasies he’d had of domesticity…they were just that, weren’t they? Fantasies, mere ideas that were appealing enough to fully flesh out in his mind. Whatever actions you’ve taken, whether it be pecks to the cheek or folding his shirts, staining them with the scent of you, they’ve all been a means to an end. That certainly wasn’t part of the fantasy.

You’ve been buttering him up like the thick slices of white bread next to his bowl. What a betrayal.

Tonight’s stew is spicy and chunky, served courteously by you. His palate is experienced from an adulthood of travel, wealth, and nights spent with gullible women who couldn’t tell the difference between a Prince Charming and a swindler. Truly, there is little he hasn’t at least tried. Including this.

So, if there’s no other signs of you wanting to leave the comfort of the apartment and the familiarity of his presence, then what could’ve possibly cued him into your motives?

It’s something tenuous, something that could’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. It’s something subtle, buried under layers of rosemary and thyme and paprika. But diphenhydramine is such an acquired taste. And it’s one that’s made the past few weeks and months crumble to dust.

Oh, you sweet thing.

Acting as oblivious as ever, he spoons chunks of zucchini and carrot onto the bread, taking large bites, chewing and swallowing with purpose, the taste of the sedative lingering. He considers smacking his lips for good measure, to play around with you a bit, but eventually decides against it. That’ll come later.

You sit across from him, silence between you two. Normally, he’d fill it with tales from his busy day - but you’ve been so good lately, that he’s begun to refrain from doing that. Nowadays, he asks you what you’ve been up to, every painstaking detail from your dull days without him. But that’s only if you’ve been good, or at least if he’s under the impression that you’ve been good. As it turns out, you haven’t been good, you aren’t being compliant, and now he simply waits.

You stare into your bowl of stew, but he can tell you’re watching him in your periphery. It’s so very fascinating, the way you absorb each mouthful he takes, washed down with frequent sips of water (there’s no other substances in that, obviously). He takes another swill of the liquid, tilting his head slightly back, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the way you observe his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Does it appease you, the sight? Does it intrigue you? Does it make you, even for a moment, reconsider what you’re about to do?

Chrollo pauses for a moment, before placing the half-empty glass back onto its coaster. He knows the smirk that comes onto his face is nothing short of wicked, but he truly can’t help himself.

“Are you not hungry, my love? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Barely is an understatement. You haven’t touched it at all, in fact. Stupid, really. He knows that you know that he’s observant - but that information is irrelevant in this situation, considering it doesn’t take an keen eye to figure out your pattern of stirring your spoon around, picking up some carrot - even blowing on it for good measure - and nodding along with what few words he spoke initially, before giving an mhm! of agreement and letting it drop back into the bowl. You spend extensive amounts of time apparently fishing for just the right piece of zucchini, sorting through copious amounts of lentils (and seemingly taking the time to individually count them all), dragging chunks up the side of your bowl only to push them back down into the fray of assorted vegetables.

There’s almost a sort of jump in response to the words, ringing clear and well projected. But it’s contained above the shoulders - your head snaps to look at him, your eyes widening momentarily, staring into his own, trapped.

He can feel the shaky breath you take to steady yourself from over here, air stagnant and mouth dry.

“No,” you reply, “not particularly.”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouthing an oh before returning to his meal. It doesn’t matter whether you take the bait or not, his suspicions have long since been confirmed. Confirmed, in the sternest sense of the word, syllables enunciated with force, the knowledge of your true intentions well recognised. Whether that displays on his face or within his interactions with you is inconsequential to the known ending of your silly stunt.

The sound of you chewing is enough to bring his attention back out of the bowl. That’s not fake.

So you’re eating it too? It’s certainly a bold move, but one he wouldn’t dare put past you anymore. You were always a clever one, one to be placed a mere few tiers below his own intellect.

He hasn’t caught you swapping the bowl out for a fresh one. Maybe you’ve mastered the art so quickly that even he can’t notice?

No, not likely. Not in just a few months. That’d be impossible.

Your bites of pumpkin are preceded with the slightest hesitation, a quick breath to presumably psych yourself up to the self-sabotage. He hates to see you so scared when you’re properly sharing a meal with him like this, deciding to return to normalcy as a reward for your cooperation.

“Tell me, darling, what did you get up to today?”

Your eyes flick to his, momentarily ensnared in the grey, before looking up at the ceiling to aid in the process of giving a verbal description of what you read, how you cleaned, how you entertained yourself with rearranging your meagre book collection (not his, that would be asking for trouble). The response is practically identical to every other time he’s asked the question, plain and unindulgent. It’s boring, he thinks, even with the unacknowledged omission of the hours you spend staring at the walls and pacing around the living area. He’s tempted to pry into how you decided on tonight’s dish, but decides against it. Not for lenience or mercy, but rather amusement. To give away what he knows now would simply be a waste of a situation you’ll never attempt to put yourself in again.

If you knew what Chrollo knew, would you still bother to indulge him?

You stare at him for a moment, allowing him to draw things out, before nodding at the I see he gives in response. He gives a forward nod to your bowl, giving you gracious permission to eat again after starving you for the length of your interrogation, merciful as ever. Your fear is better contained behind a split second’s confusion before you register the nonverbal instruction, picking up your spoon once more and eating with more confidence this time, taking exaggerated bites of zucchini that barely make it past your teeth, chewed excessively into grey paste before being swallowed. Maybe you reason that if you chew enough, you can break the drug down into something that won’t knock you out. A cute thought.

The spices stain your lips an enticing red, the chilli making them plump up so deliciously. If he kissed them, would they burn him? Would the capsaicin leave his lips tingling, a reminder of your soft touch?

He likes to think he’ll know the answer soon.

Chrollo feigns sleepiness, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he tells you that he can’t quite keep his eyes open - perhaps he overdid it at work today.

Yes, work, as he loves to call it, like there’s the possibility of him spending his time away from you at a desk, punching in numbers on a computer, monotonous and repetitive and damn, couldn’t things just switch up for a day? Work, as in a beer-bellied husband whose idea of experimental fashion is changing which tie he wears with the same white button-up and black dress pants each day. Work, as in an assembly line employee who wakes up at three o’clock to be at the factory by four, ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support his loved ones. Work, as in something at least vaguely respectable.

Work, as in literally anything other than stealing and slaughtering and scourging.

Chrollo relishes in the way your shoulders relax a little. It’s almost too adorable. Chrollo also relishes in the way they tense up again when he adds how it’s suspicious really. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a tiredness such as this.

There’s an underlying anxiety in your pretty, pluckable, ever-so-slightly bloodshot eyes. Where others would be concerned for your health, he finds endearment, you precious thing. After admiring them silently for a moment, he announces that he’ll be off to bed now, darling. Remember to be there for me when I wake.

He leaves you alone in the kitchen to stew in your unease.

____________

Now he’s lying in bed, on the side closest to the door, limp as anything. It doesn’t matter whether his facade convinces you or not, he’ll have you in his arms by morning. The blinds aren’t fully down, leaving a pleasant blue hue that gives him a good visual of most of the room. Your side of the bed is still firmly tucked in from when he made it this morning, after running his hands up and down your arms until you’d given a great shudder and shoved him away - a pitiful attempt that he’d impishly gone along with.

Anticipation tickles his nose and prods at his heart. Childishly, he wants you to get over with it already, to sprint in, swinging a knife wildly, or cue him to start the chase with a slam of the front door so violent that the hinges threaten to crack. It’s unfortunate how your faux compliance conditioned him to be unable to accept a halt, or even slowing, of progress.

Ah, some solace - he can hear your footsteps come up to the door, attempting, albeit poorly, to be quiet. Or maybe they are quiet, to the average man, but someone well-versed in the art of stealth can practically see the way you tiptoe closer. The faint sounds paint a detailed visualisation of your movements - the balls of your feet lifting from the ground, the flexing of your toes, the dorsiflexion at your ankles, the soft thud of your heels hitting the ground.

The bedroom door creaks open, a thin streak of light hitting his eyelids, making him see an ever-so-slight orange behind them. He might be able to visualise your walk accurately, but the same cannot be said for your face. Are you fearful, lips downturned and eyes wide? Are you determined yet cautious, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line? Are you smug? Condescending? Grinning from ear-to-ear, excited to finally have what you believe to be freedom?

You’re not, he discerns.

Instead, you huff a sigh, a sweet note that makes his heart jump, a small flutter that could only be instigated by you. It’s a sigh of relief. The door is shut. He expects another door to be slammed, too - the front door, hinges quaking as you sprint to the stairs as far as you can, too scared to wait for the elevator (and for your sake, he hopes you’ve brought a pair of running shoes - you’re on the 35th floor, after all). But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, he can hear the clanking of bowls and dishes, the smooth schwip as you push breadcrumbs off the chopping board into the bin with the back of the serrated-edge knife, and how you place said knife into the block without taking another one out.

So you’ve decided against stabbing him tonight? How agreeable.

In fact there seems to be no malice in the way you’re stacking the bowls, no scraps of extra force in how you shut the fridge. Whilst the sounds of your cleanup are nothing short of a ruckus to his alert ears, there’s an intentional tenderness he can hear. A conscious effort to be as quiet as possible with somebody sleeping peacefully in the next room.

It’s a gesture he’ll interpret in the best way he can. Even if he knows he’s deluding himself that you want to be quiet for his own peace rather than so you can escape, he’ll be sure to bring up the former as reasoning for your actions over the next few days, regardless of how you’ll spit venom at him, hissing that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next is a movement he didn’t expect in the slightest.

You come back to the bedroom, with a pile of fabric in your hands - clothes, maybe? He thought you’d be off and away as soon as possible, or you wouldn’t get close to him again at the very least, standing patiently by the door until whatever you’re waiting for had occurred.

The quiet-ish footsteps make their way past him this time, and straight into the ensuite.

There’s the soft sound of clothes falling, and then the tap is turned on.

You’re…showering before you leave?

You really are a good teacher of the quirks of humanity. Logical as ever, he’d most certainly take no time for hygiene practices if it reduced his chances of being able to go on a small, liberating adventure. But perhaps that’s part of the plan? Do you not want to have a speck of dirt on you so you don’t smell bad? Will you hide out at a fancy gala, and have to be as fresh as possible? Are you trying to wash off Nen, perhaps?

No, that would never work, and he’s certain you know this too. Still, the idea of a little hopeless fire in you, taking a precaution you know is futile, makes his lips twitch.

So many questions, few of them answerable at present. His mind is stimulated so wondrously, for once not finding boredom in the predictability of human behaviour. He’s truly chosen well.

And then there’s something else, rising above the sound of the rushing water, above the drain gurgling it down, greedily gulping it away.

You’re humming.

It’s relatively random, most likely improvised, and slightly off-tune, but endearing all the same. He can taste the notes, sweet and soothing, running down his throat smoothly and pooling warmth in his belly.

You heave a sigh, and the tune changes. And then he recognises it.

It’s something he heard as a boy, back in Meteor City. He’d hear it at night, walking back to whatever semblance of a refuge he had with Franklin and Shalnark, past the hamlets of the younger children. Letting himself get lost in it, he can feel himself crawling to shelter on scraped knees, walking on calloused heels, eating stale bread, all accompanied by the faint smell of garbage, a smell that years of exposure had waned to a neutral accompaniment of the setting, rather than an inconvenience or hazard.

Despite the unhygienic nature of it all, it’s sweet. It’s these memories - memories of grime and rot and infection - that are the most pure. The most uncorrupted. They’re full of innocence and hope - just like you.

These qualities make you think you’ll leave him.

Upon remembering this, he’s tempted to barge in and ruin your peace, eager to hear your inevitable yelp and nervous laugh as he quizzes you about tonight’s events. But he doesn’t. Your lullaby is too enjoyable, the tune far too agreeable to stomp out yet. Resisting sin by committing another, he decides he doesn’t want to kill this mockingbird, if only to selfishly continue to hear it sing.

Few moments have come like this since you came to be with him. They’re all short-lived in comparison to the cold life he’s had, a firecracker popping on his tongue, fleetingly filling his mouth with syrupy sweetness before quickly dying off, barely an aftertaste to be savoured. He’s scratched them all down in an old leather journal with a quill and ink, lest he forgets what it feels like, or how to get that feeling again, but thankfully they’re scratched even deeper into his psyche.

You’d been agreeable enough for a reward of a dinner somewhere several stories up, city lights shining behind you, framing your hair beautifully. You were reluctant at first, turning your nose up at him and the priceless food in front of you, opting for the bottle of red wine instead. It wasn’t supposed to be gulped down with such vulgarity like that, but that was part of your charm and by your second glass you were giggling and halfway through your third you looked at him right in the eye, cheeks tinged pink, and you smiled a smile that you’d forget by morning but he wouldn’t…

He’d returned to the villa after a long day to find the fans blasting, and you slumped over on the couch as credits rolled on the screen in front of you. He’d flicked the TV off, not before noting the rom-com’s name, and regarded you, with your deep, even breaths and singlet strap falling down. He picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down on the thin blankets, fixing your strap despite the small voice that called to him to take off the thing entirely. Your head rested on the pillow, your face not scowling for once, and you’d huffed the sweetest of sighs…

That’s the kind of moment this is.

There’s no thought of what he’ll be doing with the troupe tomorrow, or in a week, or what move to make next depending on what you decide to do. Every nook and cranny of his mind, every convolution of his brain is filled with the thought of you. Tonight, it’s warm and viscous, slowing time and cutting both of you off from the rest of the world; the rest of its filth.

In this moment, he can see himself in the shower with you. He’s across from you, lathering body wash onto his shoulders, letting the foam run down his back. All the while, he keeps his gaze on you, watching how your hands run over your body, soap running along your sternum, between your breasts, along the curve of your hips, your ass, all whilst you hum that tune… shit, he can’t let himself get hard now. He manages to drag himself out of the daydream, barely, just managing to claw himself to the surface of reality.

Caps are popped open and the lathering of soaps can be heard over the course of your performance, with a finale of the tap being turned off. There’s a fumbling of fabrics before you come out, followed by yet another move he doesn’t expect.

You walk up to the bed, peel the sheets back, and lie down beside him. You then roll onto your side, facing him. After a few moments, you prop yourself up onto your elbow.

A moment of nothing. You’re frozen, as is he. Calm before the storm, he prepares himself to catch your wrist and hear you shriek.

You lean over.

And then there’s a featherlight sensation on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo.

Had it been a split second later, he would’ve opened his eyes and turned to face you with a smirk as you screamed. But it’s not a split second later, it’s now, and now you’re kissing him. There’s no real benefit for doing such a thing that he can identify right now - perhaps you know he’s awake, and would like to make amends? Surely you know that that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

The contact sends an electric zap to every corner of his body, although he manages to not make himself jolt. Months of stifled desire bubble up from his insides, desire that’s spent so long smothered by rationale of better outcomes and forcing himself to think of his bloodied obstacles and late nights alone in the shower. As often as his lips find their way to your forehead, unfortunately the reverse doesn’t occur even half as much.

You pull away, like you’re hesitant about what you’ve done, like you’re waiting for him to snap his eyes open and sit up with inhuman speed, ready to pin you down or tie you up or even slap you for tonight’s inconveniences. But that doesn’t make sense, because hesitation is supposed to occur before such an intrepid act, not afterward.

After receiving apparent confirmation that you’re not about to be attacked, he can sense your head slowly but surely coming to rest on your pillow. You shouldn’t strain your neck like that, someone like you could get hurt over time.

The back of his shirt is peeled up, slowly, delicately, and he has to focus to keep his breathing even.

There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, his number a pale contrast to the black ink, practically jumping out at you.

It’s your reminder, he supposes, of what he is. Theoretically and legally nonexistent, practically traceless. Zero evidence. Zero remorse. Zero morality.

Zero.

Then-

One, two, three.

Your lips mark a trail up his spine, at the bottom of the abdomen, right in the middle of the zero, on its head. Don’t shudder.

Once your deed is done, you pull back. There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, so silent that you’re barely breathing.

The fabric of his nightshirt is guided back down. You roll over and proceed to go limp, succumbing to the drugs intended for him.

What was that?

You’re not touching him anymore. He can sense the gap between your bodies, one that he would close every night, pulling you close.

Was it a relief? To go to sleep without him touching you?

You’d always stirred up such a fuss about his arms being around you as you slept.

It had always been a cause for seething rage on your part, later argument, later whining, and more recently huffing. Even last night, the stiffness before you fell asleep was a cause of his own discomfort. But you didn’t have to deal with that tonight, and now you’ve fallen asleep in record time. He can’t say it was just from the pills.

Did you change your mind on leaving after you felt their effects? It doesn’t seem likely that you’d ditch all that to sleep. Rather, that you wanted to sleep on your own terms.

He’d spent so much time concerned with stopping a potential escape, that he didn’t stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, that was never the goal to begin with.

And now Chrollo rolls over to face you, gently tugging on your shoulder to pull you onto your back.

You’re serene as ever, a sight to behold.

He brushes the back of his knuckles along your hair, feeling its texture, so light that his calloused hands - hands that have seen many a bruise and burn and slice and hangnail caught and ripped on the job - almost can’t feel it. Your exhales come out more as huffs and sighs now compared to gentle breathing, and he allows a chuckle (one that he finds incredibly endearing, as much as you’ve let your disagreement to that sentiment be known, preferring to describe it with wounding words such as “condescending” and “grating”) to slip past his lips.

It reminds him of you when you’re awake, when you used to try so hard to be difficult for him, when you used to scream and scratch as he’d spoon you, grip ironclad, until all you could do was huff and puff and plead with him (and as much as he enjoyed your attempts to compromise, this was something he simply could not relinquish) and eventually, your cursing would die down, your muscles would go limp, and you’d fall asleep.

Sometimes the sun would be up by the time you relented, and your breaths would be the heaviest then. It was amusing, how quickly you’d switch. One second, you were cussing him and his troupe out, the next, you were a paragon of tranquillity, the visage of an angel before him. He’d pray you love him.

He wants to grab your jaw, hold it firm, and kiss your lips as hard as he can. He wants to tilt his head and take and take and take. He wants to keep taking even if your breathing lightens. He wants to keep taking even if your eyelids flutter open, hazy doe-eyes looking at him with dozy confusion.

Well, he’d never deny his own indulgence.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead, just as you did to him.

The touch is as gentle as he can make it, as gentle as he can permit himself to be. There’s a split second of what he could almost call fear, an image of accidentally squeezing you too hard and hearing your bones snap flashing in his mind.

He rubs his thumb over where his lips previously were, feeling an unanticipated wetness left behind.

It’s then that Chrollo realises his mouth is full of his own saliva - whether that was because he was so entranced by your actions that nothing else mattered, body as limp as he could allow, or because, like some sort of filthy animal, he couldn’t help but drool at the contact from you, starved for it like a hyena, he doesn’t know. He swallows. That’s better.

And now for the main event.

He dips down to your lips, and lightly presses his own against them. The feeling is so heavenly, he wonders if you really are an angel. If you were one, would you bless him? Would you destroy him?

If you were to know what he’s doing, would you hate him more?

He pulls away.

The journey to get here was sizable. Memories of tonight flash by; your cooking, your conversation, your shower. Your humming.

Ah. The tune he heard as a boy. Innocent, naïve, hopeful.

Well, he’s a man now. And far less innocent.

He lets out a hum of his own, deep and rumbling.

Chrollo moves to straddle you, peeling the duvet and sheets back, layer by layer, unveiling the best present he’s ever gifted himself. Just moving into such an intimate position is enough to send pangs of heat downwards, the hardness he fought against earlier returning with an urgency.

For a moment, he tries to fight against it.

Is it to save himself from your hatred? Is it to save you from what he’s planning?

It’s neither, he discerns, as the attempt was doomed to fail before it even started. He knows it was never meant to succeed.

His groin only throbs harder, aching for friction. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, the way he presses it against your clothed crotch, rocking back and forth, the slight relief just momentary as his desire only grows.

He regards your unsuspecting face. Stunning.

Restraint is draining faster now, but still is present just enough to stop him from grinding any harder despite the urge. But if he’s to stop his movements, he’ll need a different kind of stimulation.

He bunches your shirt up, pulling, sliding a hand under your back so he can slip it off your arms and neck.

Now your chest is bare. How ravishing.

His fingers hook under the band of your sleep pants, dragging them off in a clean motion.

And now your legs are bare. How alluring.

He doesn’t take your underwear off - that would simply be crude, and he doesn’t need to tempt himself anymore. If he got the privilege (or right, considering your standings) of seeing you fully nude, as opposed to having a single layer covering the most tantalising part of you, he’d be oh-so-inclined to do something regrettable. His logic fights to win space within his buzzing thoughts, fingers daring to twitch as his imagination fills in the gaps of what the thin black layer forces to be left to it.

Chrollo parts your thighs for good measure, the maximum he can allow himself at this moment. It’d be impossible to not let his hands and gaze trail up them, observing how as he roams upwards, your flesh gets softer, warmer; how the flimsy fabric can’t hide all of your darker flesh; how your lower lips are pressing against the cloth, visible despite the darkness…

God, you’re so fuckable.

There’s a pretentious voice in his head, albeit muffled, that cries protests at the use of such a word to describe you. You’re something far more than that - beautiful, exemplary, one-in-a-million, ethereal. Surely your mouth would be better put to use having a fulfilling conversation with him, a conversation he can dissect and steer and puppeteer, as opposed to just opening as wide as it can to accommodate his cock, taking it as deep as your gag reflex will allow, barely able to breathe, much less talk. Although, he thinks with a faint, deep groan, twitching in his pants, that’s certainly a hypothesis I’ll have to test.

With the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and skin goosebumped from the chill of the room, it’s decided. Just because making his cheeks warm and his cock rock hard isn’t your most prominent trait, doesn’t mean that you aren’t absolutely exceptional at it.

Temptation isn’t something he’s inclined to resist, brushing a thumb over your nipples before leaning down to take one into his mouth. He swears he can hear your breath hitch as his tongue swirls around, breathing getting slightly lighter. An eager hand reaches for the other one, kneading as gently as he thinks he can.

Soft is the first thing he thinks. Your flesh is so soft, so delicate, so tender. If you were awake, he’d vocalise his compliments - and do so loudly, unrestrained.

Your breathing changes as he points his tongue to lightly flick at your nipple repeatedly. Chances are you’re being taken out of REM sleep, but your consciousness doesn’t matter at this stage. And some part of him hopes for it, brief images flashing in his mind of barely-open teary eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head. They’re obscene, so utterly immoral to even fantasise about, yet even the split-second thought makes his stomach jump, shivering a bit as he feels himself be almost overcome by them.

He can’t help but slightly wet his lips in anticipation, relishing in the knowledge that his instincts are being held back with the slightest thread. If he moves even slightly faster than his rational, calculating, non-carnal mind intends, then it’ll snap. He’ll snap.

Almost trembling, he reaches across to his bedside table. The movements are imprecise, but he’s sure this practice will allow him to execute them with much more grace for the inevitable time you’ll be awake. Yes, you’ll be awake and whining and he’ll wet his lips in anticipation and be met with your lingering taste and you’ll want him as much as he wants you-

He almost falls forward as his own lust threatens to overtake him. Focus on the necessary steps.

Taking a shuddering breath, he leans down to pull open the drawer, to find a bottle hidden at the back, purposefully concealed behind an upright copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Quickly shifting his weight back, he pops the cap open, spreading some of the slick contents onto his fingertips. With his free hand, he pulls down the loose elastic of his pyjama pants, shucking them off, the cold air making him quiver slightly.

Time’s running out.

The movements are trembling, sloppy as he pours lube onto his length, and then onto your spread thighs. There’s a frantic inertia of sorts, a mad momentum - the more he does, the faster he has to go, the anticipation making his stomach swell and dip. He’s really going to do this. It’s really going to happen, and it’ll be amazing.

There. Done. Everything’s ready.

Chrollo takes a shaky breath, gripping just above your knees, and squeezes your thighs around his dick.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your thighs are warm from the duvet, perfectly cosy and wet from the lube for his cock.

Little time is wasted as he begins to thrust his hips, trying not to give himself too much too soon. The steady pace is slowly increased, little by little, a fragile incline so he can drag this out for as long as possible.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the warmth radiating from him? Is there some part of your mind that’s awake, but can’t do anything to stop him? Or better yet, is eager to please him?

He strains out a hiss through gritted teeth, peppering kisses over your exposed neck, trying his best not to bite. The pace increases yet again. His eyes are fixated on the mound in your underwear, a more sinister form of curiosity burning within.

What does your pussy look like?

He won’t use En, that’s just cheating. He wonders and ponders and conjures up the most filthy images his mind can muster. A warm, tight hole that clenches for him as he slips in and out, teasing you. A pretty clit for him to tease with his fingers as you whine, for him to suckle on as you choke on sobs of pleasure. Folds for him to run his tongue through as you rut your hips against his face; for him to run his tip along, collecting your slick.

He imagines how his cock would look disappearing inside of your cunt, how your grip would be so suffocating, how your tits would bounce as he fucks it (because shit, they’re already moving so vigorously now, as he holds his strength, and he can’t even begin to picture what they’d look like if he loses control buried deep inside you, repeatedly stuffing you to the hilt as you cry out). He imagines how you’d tighten around him, babbling something incoherent as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and oh fuck, he can’t pull out now. He imagines the tension snapping, giving a rumbling groan as he shoves himself into you as deeply as possible, eyes screwing shut and burying his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts.

And finally, he imagines how his cum would look leaking out of your pussy, twitching and swollen from a nice good fuck. The afterglow. The squeak you’d give if he fingered it back into you, growling at you to not waste a drop, keep it all inside for me.

The thought makes his hips stutter a little, threatening to slip out of the plushness between your thighs. Once he regains his rhythm, though, they’re speeding up, relentlessly fucking himself into your thighs over and over, kneading the flesh as he squeezes them tighter and closer.

Chrollo cups your face with a single hand, and leans in.

It’s the second time he’s properly kissed you tonight, and it feels fucking amazing. Your soft lips, your soft thighs, they’re all working together to make his head swim in bliss. You’re working to make him feel good. Yes, him. Nobody else. You’re his.

The thoughts run wild. He has as little control over them as he does his hips.

How would it feel to fuck you in some other position? How would it feel to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back to meet his, as he stuffs himself into your sopping cunt over and over, watching your ass bounce? How would you cry out at the way his balls slap against your swollen clit, building up the pressure inside you until you just can’t take any more?

How would you grind on top of him? How would you moan as you bounce, tilting your head back as you stretch yourself on his length, panting? How many times could you do it until your legs trembled uncontrollably, forcing yourself to impale yourself on his cock just one more time? When he’d plant his feet on the bed firmly and thrust his hips up, grabbing yours and bouncing you in time, would you wail, or simply slump over, completely unable to form a thought as you cum around him for the nth time?

You’re flexible enough to fold into a mating press, right? How deep could he go? How fast could he go? How would your beautiful skin look covered in love bites?

The coil of pressure within him grows even tighter even faster, balls slapping against your thighs, hips pistoning rhythmlessly.

If he asked, oh-so-nicely, for you to get on your knees and please him with your mouth, would you oh-so-sweetly do it? Would you suckle his swollen tip? Would you tease him with a glint of mischief in your eyes? Would you find his most sensitive spots and exploit them? Would you trace your tongue along the veins? Would you massage his balls? Would you let him control the pace, a hand intertwined in your hair? Would you look up at him as you tear up, doe-eyes wide and eager to please? Would you rub your pretty pussy while he shoots thick ropes of cum down your throat, pressing your nose against his pelvis?

Yes, he decides as the coil begins to snap, you would.

Chrollo comes to a sudden halt, choking out a rich groan in a low timbre. The noise becomes more strained as he rides out the high, the overwhelming euphoria becoming just a bit too intense as it begins to morph into overstimulation. Once he’s sure the moment’s over, he lets go of your legs, pulling back to catch his breath and admire his work.

Ropes of cum paint your chest, some making it as far as your neck, your chin. It’s beautiful, the unruly mess he’s made - no, the mess you’ve made of him.

You’re a real beauty, you know that?

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet as he grabs a washcloth to clean you up. It’s sad to see it go, to a primal extent, but it’s probably for the best to ensure he doesn’t get any ideas for a second round tonight.

For future nights, though? The chest he’s covering up will soon be exposed soon enough.

He’ll have to get more sleeping pills. You simply must try this again soon.

Next time, he’ll taste you. The time after that, you’ll taste him. He can hardly wait, nor can he stop the dull throbbing starting up in his groin again.

He sates himself for the time being with the knowledge that the time after that, you’ll be awake.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh #hxh #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #tw yandere

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ssweetleaf · 3 months

Text

million dollar man.

summary: you’re sick of seeing people talk down to robert, so you show him just how much you respect him.

robert fischer x afab!reader

includes: SMUT, rob’s asshole dad, kinda subby!daddy rob though there’s no daddy kink in this one, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, a really terrible ending because that’s all i’m good at

✩

“You ready, honey?”

The foyer sparkled around you, big marble pillars and stupidly shiny chandeliers all gleamed at you, causing your eyes to squint and your mouth to open in awe.

Everywhere you looked there were people, all dressed up in their formal attire— cinched waists and satin gloves paired with crisp waistcoats and bow ties, old money, new money, it didn’t matter, as long as they had a good seven digits within their net worth they’d be considered a part of the festivities.

And that’s where you realised you didn’t quite belong in that room, with those people.

“Honey? You listenin’?”

You shook the fog from your brain, eyes flitting to him. Robert. Your Robbie, handsome as ever in his suit, tailored to fit him just right, his tie matching the dark wine colour that was your dress. The dress he had got you and left on your duvet as a surprise. You couldn’t begin to imagine how much it had cost him.

You smiled up at him, small and not quite reaching your eyes.

“Sorry, Robbie,” your eyes fluttered to the floor, “just nervous is all.”

He stepped closer to you, big palms raising to cradle your cheeks, squishing them slightly and running his thumbs along the soft skin.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said, full of sincerity, his eyes so blue and glistening. “S’no need to be nervous, sweet girl.”

You nodded, all bashful now, leaning into his kiss when he pressed a chaste one to your lips.

Robert hooked his arm out for you to take, leading you inside the ballroom with high ceilings and waiters that held trays full of champagne. You took a mental note to snag one of those flutes whenever you had the chance, you needed a bit of liquid courage.

Being Robert Fischer’s arm candy meant staying at his side at all times, with an arm hooked round your waist or a palm to the small of your back, any little touch to tell anyone that ogled— you were his.

His girl.

“Robert, you’re late—” standing straight and proper was his father, peering at him in a look much akin to distaste, not bothering to give you so much as a glance.

You saw Rob’s jaw tick.

“I’d like you to meet Thomas, he’s shown to be quite useful in the business, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two…”

Straight to business. Straight to the insults. The same old same old, shaking hands and discussing terms and money that you hadn’t a clue about— Robert’s teeth were gritted, hand gripping your hip to sate and ground him.

“Lovely to see you as always, father,” he spoke, sarcasm swirling on his tongue, blue eyes swarming and darkening at the mere sight of his own flesh and blood.

The conversation went on for a while before Thomas piped up, gaze settling on your figure, roaming and ogling, staring for far too long at your tits.

“And who’s this?” He asked, eyes never leaving yours. You felt uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and hugging yourself closer to Robert.

Rob’s brows furrowed, a possessive arm tightening around you further.

“This is my girl-” he looked down at you, fondness and so much adoration swirling in his irises, mouth quirking in a smile when you settled your own gaze upon his.

“It’s about time you settled down,” his father spoke out before Rob had time to utter your name, “but believe me, doll, run while you still can.”

You frowned.

“He’s useless, I tell you. Absolutely useless—”

“I think that’s quite enough.” You took hold of your lover’s hand, tugging him along, “if you’ll excuse us.”

Robert followed along like a lost puppy, letting you tug on his hand and guide him to the nearest available bathroom.

The sparkly green tile gleamed at you as soon as you walked through the door, pushing him through and clicking the lock shut.

“What’re you doing, honey,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly when you pushed him up against the counter, smoothing your palms along his lapels and down his chest.

“No one gets to speak to you like that.” You muttered, frowning, and he smoothed at the furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb, smiling slightly.

“S’alright, baby,” he began, cutting himself off when he saw you shaking your head.

“No, it isn’t,” you spoke, firm and to the point, hands moving to cradle his jaw and cheeks, skin smooth and shaven, so pretty to look at. “do you hear me?”

He chuckled, pressing his hands to your hips, swaying you gently, attempting to soothe you.

“I hear ya, sweetheart—”

“Robert, I mean it.” You swiped at the skin underneath his eyes, palming his delicate skin and marvelling at how pretty he was. Oh, how vulnerable he could be when he was with you.

You stared at each other for a while, eyes flitting over every blemish and dimple, savouring the sight as if the world was coming to an end, shifting to a close.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a chaste one, so soft it was barely there, leaning in close, your lashes fluttering against his cheek bone.

“Let me show you.” You muttered, pressing another kiss, a firmer one, to his lips now, then another, far more desperate. “Let me show you, Robbie.”

“Honey,” his chuckle was nervous, voice cracking and eyelids fluttering closed when your mouth mapped along the sharp line of his jaw. “honey, not here— n-not now.”

You pulled back, an over-exaggerated pout playing upon your lips before you leaned in, mouth pressed to his ear, tongue flicking against the shell when you uttered into it.

“Please, sir.”

He whimpered, broken and whiny, and you could feel him against your belly, already hard and throbbing when your breath fanned along his neck.

“Okay,” he sighed, almost dreamily, bucking his hips against you and holding onto you tight. “Alright, darling, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

He was breathless, seeing stars, sucking his lip between his teeth when you lowered yourself to kneel in front of him, hands smoothing along his thighs, the expensive material of his Italian suit glided along your palms, smooth and elegant before you found what you were looking for.

A bulge tightened his trousers, stretching the fabric, barely being able to contain the sheer size of his big cock, you were sure if you left him any longer a wet spot would form.

“Please, sweetheart,” he was the one saying please now, petting at your hair and smoothing down the tresses, chest heaving at your kneeling form, looking all pliant though he knew you were the one in charge.

You pulled at his belt, tugging it through the buckle, the leather squeaking when you grew impatient with it, wanting it off. Then you unbuttoned him, drawing down his fly, pushing them down along with the tight constriction of his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, a long pearlescent string of pre-cum sticking to his skin, mouth-wateringly so.

“So pretty,” you cooed, reaching up to take him in your hand, girthy and long, everything you’d ever need, your fingers barely being able to touch from the thickness. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, darling—” he whined, breathy and muscles tensing. “all for you.”

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss at his tip, stroking him with your fist, slow and sensual, grinning as his breath picked up.

You licked along the length of him, along that thick vein that throbbed hotly, sucking his balls into your mouth one after the other, leaving the stain of your lipstick along his flesh, before taking his cock down your throat, hearing him moan and whimper at the suddenness of it all.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whined, thumb smoothing along your cheek, “good girl, s-such a good, sweet girl.”

You hummed around him, swirling your tongue around him and trying to take him as deep as your throat would let you, gagging around his cock, tears slipping from your heaves.

Robert felt his chest swell, the sight before him so pretty, suckling at his cock, your tears glistening from the light of the bathroom’s chandelier, so lucky he could call you his. His girl.

The ring box in his suit pocket felt heavy when he stared at you.

You took him further down your throat, salty tears slipping down your cheeks, leaving your eyes all sparkly and glistening, gagging around his cock every now and again, the sharp tug that Robert inflicted upon your tresses a big indicator that he greatly enjoyed the constriction of your tight, warm little throat.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet girl,” he whimpered, hips mindlessly bucking with each downward thrust of your mouth. “So good to me, take care of me so well.”

Hell, if anyone decided to walk past the door to the bathroom they were situated in, they’d get an earful— the crude sound of sloppy sucking and his airy whimpers resonated around the echoey room. Someone was bound to listen in.

You had half a hope that Thomas was outside the door, listening to the sheer pleasure you inflicted on your boy.

“Baby,” he stuttered, whining and pawing at your hair and cheeks, desperate and leaking onto your tongue. “Can I cum? Oh, please, darling, let me cum.”

You took your mouth off him, letting your hand take over, slowly stroking him into your fist, thumb flicking over his head, so sensitive, you thought.

You pouted up at him, somewhat mockingly.

“Don’t you wanna cum inside me, Robbie?” You stared at him, whatching him heave and buck, cheeks all flushed and forehead sweaty, such a pretty, pathetic sight. “Was looking forward to it all night.”

You continued your pouting, adding a little whine to your speech, watching him nod exuberantly and stroking your cheek with his shuddering palm.

“O-of course, baby— wanna cum inside you, just wanna please you.”

You smiled, pressed one last kiss to the flushed head of his tip before standing, moving to lean over the counter, back arched and ass in the air, swaying at him teasingly.

His palms smoothed over your backside, ruching the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty panties, a pretty shade of pink, a wet spot saturating the fabric that covered your cunt.

He groaned, grabbing a handful of your hips, kneading the flesh between his fingers. He gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your pretty tits spilling out of your bodice.

“What’re you waiting for, Robbie? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

He nodded, still so red in the face, leaning over you to press his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin; a form of an apology.

“Yes, dear, you’ve been such a good girl. Always deserve my cock, always.” He hummed, pulling back to tuck his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, pulling them to the side and exposing your glistening pussy, juices dripping down your thighs and clit throbbing hotly.

Rob huffed out a breath, cock jumping at the sight before him, before gripping himself at the base, gliding it along your slit and bumping the tip against your clit, tapping it lightly before repeating the process.

“Hurry,” you whined, pressing yourself closer against him, wiggling your hips, the movement causing the ridge of his cock to slip inside your hole.

He pushed all the way to the base, panting like a dog and gripping at your skin, etching finger-shaped bruises into your flesh.

“Feel so perfect.” He whimpered, feeling you clench, trying to adjust to his size, the thickness of his cock stretching you out impossibly— you felt as if he was in your throat.

It wasn’t long before you gave him the go ahead to move, the subtle sting of his size still apparent, though the jolts of pleasure completely overshadowed the discomfort.

You were squealing into your arm, moaning like a porn star with every thrust, squeezing him and hitting your ass back in time with the buck of his hips.

“S-so wet, baby, so fuckin’ pretty, creamin’ all over my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded, yesyesyes, so obscene, you began to cry, heavy sobs heaving from your lips at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Y’the only one that can make me feel this good, Robbie,” you moaned, blindly reaching back to find one of hands, clutching onto it and weaving your fingers between his. “M’all yours, Sir.”

His voice cracked when he whined out, squeezing his eyes shut smoothing a hand over the fat of your ass cheeks.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “baby, m’gonna cum already— m’sorry, sweet girl, just gotta fill you up.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, clenching and quivering around him, feeling the thick veins and ridges that ran along his length thrusting in and out, in and out. “Need it, want you to put a baby inside me, you’d make such a good daddy, Robert.”

His brain short-circuited at your crude words, hips stuttering and eyes going all starry and glossy as he came. Quick ropes of cum painted your walls, sticky and thick, and even with how sensitive his cock felt he continued to fuck his seed into your spasming pussy, your own orgasm washing over you with his filthy sounds.

Not a drop of cum was left to waste, all of it pushed deep inside, and once he was far too overstimulated to be inside you any longer, he stuffed his fingers inside you, plugging you with the Fischer prodigy and hoping with flushed cheeks and a beating heart it’d take.

All he wanted was to see you all round and full with his children. And soon the ring he had bought would be situated pride and place on your ring finger.

Soon.

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