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revasserium · 7 months

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death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

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gloomwitchwrites · 18 days

Note

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

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lincolndjarin · 6 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty eight : a place for us

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 8.4k

summary : the not so secret happily ever after.

warnings: language, fluff, mild angst, pregnancy, smut, din has a lot of insecurities, they're having a couple of problems but the biggest one is lack of communication, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, oral f!recieving, p in v sex, masturbation, creampie, come eating, din comes really fast but it's sweet, nongraphic childbirth, domestic bliss, ro making things up about star wars lore

a/n: this is it my loves, i truly hope that this is the ending people wanted. i'm extremely happy with it and i'm extremely emotional so im gonna go sit down lmao.

☆

You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him.

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on.

You haven’t had sex.

Not since everything happened.

You’ve tried, a few times but it never seemed right, you always asked if you could stop, opting to just lay together instead. You were making yourself sick with worry that he was unsatisfied so you took a day off from the meetings and the royal duties to just stay in the cabin and watch him work.

You just want to do something nice for him.

He does everything.

He cooks your meals, he rubs your feet, he spends his entire day working, he’s nearly tripling the cabin in size, and he does it all on one leg.

Well, not technically on one leg, he has the prosthetic but still. He hobbles with no complaints around the house and all you do is sit all day in the castle, talking.

So you try. All day.

Until the two of you are getting ready for bed.

“Come on. Seriously, I'm fine.” You put your hands on his shoulders as he got into bed beside you.

“Stop trying to seduce me.” He kisses your temple, rolling you onto your side as he fills in the space behind you. “You don’t need to force it.” He lifts his bottom half onto the bed, carefully removing the steel leg, setting it onto the floor next to him. One of the only pieces of his Mandalorian days he chose to keep. He had all of his armor melted down, save for his helmet, some of it was forged into a new leg, but the majority was given to the foundlings.

“I’m serious! I’m in the mood.” You aren’t and he knows it, so any efforts to roll over and face him are stopped as he wraps his arms around you, one hand resting protectively over your stomach.

“You’re not.”

“I’m desperate for it.” You whine loudly but he only laughs, his nose bumping against the back of your neck.

“Go to sleep.” You can hear the grin in his voice.

You wait a moment in the silence.

“Are you sure?” You start trying to turn again.

“I swear to the Maker-”

“Okay! Sorry!”

Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was just everything that had happened. But during your first trimester no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t seem to find the energy to be physical with him. It was as if your libido vanished entirely. You tried several times but he always just kissed your forehead and told you to relax.

“You’ve given me everything I have ever wanted, I need nothing else from you.” He laughs against your spine as he kisses you there.

“You’re sure?”

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m fine?”

“Let me take care of you…” You whine, trying to push back against him as he holds you in place.

“Stop worrying about me.” He continues to chuckle, hot against your skin as he kisses your cheek before pulling the quilt up over you both, it only takes a few minutes for him to start snoring behind you.

☆

You want to completely disassemble the monarchy.

Din wants you to be as relaxed as possible during your pregnancy.

Neither one of you has been getting what you want. Turns out being queen doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, there are limits, limits that have you arguing with your dearly departed husband's family most days.

You spend the better part of the next month in and out of the throne room, looking down at the table Kodo’s family set up below the throne. You argue over everything, you want to destroy everything that they stand for and obviously they don’t agree.

So you have to compromise.

At the end of the day it ends up being better than nothing.

The royal family no longer has any political power over Naboo citizens, but they get to keep their titles, including your own. They’re ceremonial now.

The royal family can no longer collect taxes from the people but they get to keep all their funds currently in the vaults.

The people get to vote in new leaders but the royal family gets to have automatic representation on the council.

It’s a give and take but when you finally get a chance to walk through the city with Din the people look happy and you can’t help but feel a rush of pride at the little changes. The little smiles you see every now and then, the way people stop to talk to each other, the way people look at you.

It’s different.

It’s happier, it feels safer.

It makes spending your first trimester with the Harand’s completely worth it.

And it’s a good thing you came to an agreement and got everything sorted out when you did because you don’t want to get out of bed most days during your second trimester.

You feel great, no more nausea and your energies even up.

You’re just so kriffing horny.

Morning, noon, and night.

Din’s finished the added rooms in the cabin so you’re both tasked with getting everything in order in your own room and in the nursery but you don’t let him get much done.

If you had any worries about leaving him unsatisfied those first few months they’re gone after the first week of your second trimester, you’re more than making up for it. You’re actually worried about him keeping up with you.

Of course having a bed you love helps. It was the first thing Din made when he started working on the cabin. A bed that wasn’t too big but fit you both perfectly, and you make sure to put it to good use.

It came on suddenly in the last week of your first trimester.

You had woken up early one morning craving something you hadn’t wanted in quite some time. So you rolled over, tracing a finger along his bare chest until his eyes fluttered open, his breath hitching as he gave you a sleepy smile.

“Morning.” His voice in the mornings always reminded you of how he used to sound through the modulator, low and raspy.

“Good morning.” You whispered back, letting your hand drag down his stomach until he stopped you, kissing your forehead, you shuffled towards him, feeling his cock hardening against your hip. You furrow your brow in confusion as he starts getting up. “Is something wrong?”

“You don’t need to force it for my sake.” You know he isn’t upset, he’s never voiced concerns about your sex life but he’s convinced himself that you just don’t have a sex drive right now. When in reality you’ve woken up almost painfully needy.

“Din-“ You start, reaching towards him.

“Sarad.” He took your hand in his as he situated his leg.

“Do you still want me?” You won’t be upset if he says no, after all you haven’t wanted him very much recently.

“Always. But I’m not gonna let you pretend for my sake. Your hormones are different now, maybe after the baby is born you’ll feel a little different, if not, I’ll still be sleeping here next to you every single night. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“But-“

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He kissed your hand and left the room, leaving you hot between your thighs and suddenly worried that he’d never believe you were ready.

You had brushed him off and been clearly uncomfortable often enough now that he had resigned himself to making no more attempts.

He took a lot of showers.

And you could pretend you didn’t hear him groaning your name through the door but it still sent a pang of guilt through you that no amount of reassurance could change.

You hear the water turn on as you lay back in bed with a frustrated sigh.

You have the galaxy's most devoted husband, you could tell him you never wanted to touch him again and he’d never ask why. He’d simply love you from a little further away, and you love him with all of your heart for that but in that moment you just wanted to be fucked.

So you rolled over and stuck your hand in your nightstand drawer, searching for the cold metal of the vibrator you’d bought ages ago. When you finally found it you experimentally tested the buttons, grinning when you realized it still worked. You set up some pillows against the headboard to lean against them, bending your legs at the knee as you reach under your nightgown, finding your thighs sticky, your panties doing nothing to contain the arousal coursing through you.

For a second you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to do it but the moment you switch on the toy it’s like riding a bike. The motions, the patterns, all of it comes rushing back and in just a few shakey breathes you're already on edge.

You can hear him over the buzzing, you hear a few thuds, closing your eyes you imagine him on the other side of the wall.

Without his helmet.

You haven’t been able to think about him like that since he abandoned his creed, now it’s all you can think about.

His hand up against the tile, steadying him. The other wrapped around that pretty cock of his. You turn up the vibrator as you picture the water cascading down his skin, making his curls straighten out as he pulls back his foreskin, his pretty pink tip’s probably leaking down his shaft.

“Din-” You whisper to yourself, focusing on the grunt you can hear faintly followed by the strained sound of your name. Your stomach tightens. His eyes are probably squeezed tightly shut, creasing in the corners as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Din, please.”

“Kriff.” He hisses out loud enough for you to hear clear as day.

You hear him stifle a moan, is he biting his own hand? You decide it’s for the best that you do that now as well, covering your mouth with your palm. You chase the tightening in your stomach, dipping the toy into the wetness pooling at your entrance and back up to your clit. You’re so focused on getting off that it barely even registers when the water turns off in the other room.

“Fuck-” You whine softly, turning it up one more setting.

You open your eyes when the door creaks open, Din stepping back into the bedroom with a towel held loosely around his waist. You squeeze your thighs together, your eyes watering as a gasp is forced out of your stomach, your body convulsing briefly.

Maker, you’re more pent up than you thought.

You wet your lips with your tongue as his grip on the towel tightens, his eyes go wider than you’ve ever seen them and he coughs.

“M’gonna go make breakfast.” He manages to mumble out as the tips of his ears burn up, he gets dressed rather hastily before rushing out of the room.

When you go to the dresser to find something to wear you pick something that rides up on your stomach. You don’t really have a bump yet, Din insists that he can tell, often kissing you just above your belly button when he does but you don’t really notice a difference.

You meander out into the kitchen, already having to yank down the front of your top.

Maker, maybe you are showing.

You innocently look through the conservator as he sets the table, frowning as he pouts himself a mug of caf. You’ve been wanting some for weeks but he won’t let you have so much as a sip.

“I think I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls tonight.” You sit down at the table as he sets a plate of buttered bread with meat and eggs.

“That sounds lovely.” He kisses the top of your head, bringing you a glass of juice and a few vitamins before sitting beside you. “Do you need me to go into the city and get anything for you?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything I need. What are you doing today?”

“House work. I need to fix a few things and install the heaters, it’s gonna be cold when the baby gets here.” You’re rather excited for winter, you haven’t seen snow since you left Hoth. It’s already started to chill outside. Naboo has long autumns and you aren’t due until the winter.

“Do you need any help with that?” You ask as you take a bite of the rich dense bread, already knowing the answer.

“No, you just relax today.” Ever since you finished all your royal business Din hasn’t let you do any work around the house.

“I got that package from Elaine a few days ago, I could finally unpack everything.” You nod towards the crate in the living room and he’s already shaking his head.

“I can do that when I finish up the heat-“

“I can’t just sit around all day everyday.” You point your fork at him as he gives you an apologetic look.

“You could if you wanted to.” He says hopefully before you flick a piece of sausage at him. He easily catches it out of the air, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh and we should have sex tonight.” You try to say it as casually as possible but he immediately chokes on his food, coughing briefly before clearing his throat and taking a sip from his mug.

“Mesh’la, how many times do I have to tell you not to worry about that.”

“It’s not for your sake, it’s for mine.” You’re not even halfway done with your breakfast as he takes his last bite. Quickly standing and rushing his dishes to the sink.

“We’ll talk about it later, I gotta get started on some stuff.” He’s walking around you carefully, avoiding your angry glare as he makes a hasty escape towards the third bedroom.

“If you don’t listen to me I’m not letting you pick the middle name!” You yell after him but all you get in return is a muffled chuckle.

You finish your breakfast, taking your time as you chew, feeling rather frustrated despite the orgasm you already gave yourself less than an hour ago.

The third room is currently your makeshift laundry room, you keep anything that doesn’t have a proper place in there. Currently Din is fixing the window in there so you take it upon yourself to do a load of laundry. You empty the washer, filling it again as you turn on both machines.

“Mind if I watch you for a bit?” You smile at him as he nods, wiping a bead of sweat from his hairline. You take the opportunity to hop up on the dryer when he turns back to his work.

You close your eyes, letting your head roll to the side a bit as you lean forward. You smile to yourself, a wave of deja vu washes over you as you think of everytime you’ve teased him prior. You get lost in the memory of the two of you in the library, you briefly forget your goal entirely as you rock yourself back and forth, humming softly to yourself.

Your thoughts eventually drift to how he had touched you that night and when you finally come to your senses your face is hot as your fingers grip your thighs. When you look at din he’s staring at you slack jawed.

He clears his throat, his face going red as he quickly goes back to work, finishing up quickly before getting ready to leave.

“Help me down?” You hold your arms out to him and you swear he gulps as he steps over the laundry basket to grab you under your arms, setting you down.

“All good?” His voice is strained as he watches you nod.

“Perfect.”

Except it isn’t perfect.

The bastard remained unconvinced.

And you remain frustrated out of your mind.

He takes a break after installing the heating system, when he sits on the sofa, sipping a glass of water you take it upon yourself to finally go through the baby clothes Elaine sent you. The large crate is marked with a calligraphed L&E. You carefully break open the top, opening the envelope placed on top of the many fabrics. You can’t help but smile when you see who it’s addressed to.

Princess,

Is it still princess? ‘Queen’ seems like a bit much, although you should have seen the High Magistrates' face when we told him the Mandalorian married royalty.

He wants to visit when the little one is born but unfortunately we won’t be joining him. Elaine’s a bit sensitive to the cold but we’ll see you when it warms up. She’s terribly excited to be a godmother, even if she doesn’t show it. When Din told her the sex she started sewing immediately. Took two weeks for her to make all this, you can expect more soon. She can’t seem to help herself, our house is full of tiny socks and hats.

The shop’s doing well. Karga alone buys enough clothes to keep us in business but things are good. I still don’t know how Elaine sews as much as she does or as well as she does but she hasn’t slowed down since we moved.

She misses you, even if she acts all tough about it. I miss you too, we’ll visit as soon as it’s spring.

Send pictures of the nursery when it’s finished.

Love, Lysa

You look down at the contents and are taken aback at the sheer amount of baby clothes you’re faced with. You grab the first thing that catches your eye, little green overalls.

“Oh my gods.” You hold them up for him to see. Din’s gaze goes soft as he stares at the fabric. He slides off the sofa to sit on the floor beside you, taking them as you begin looking through the rest of the clothes.

“Are you sure he’s gonna fit in these? They look small.” He holds the overalls in front of his face as you fish out a handful of striped socks.

“That’s how big newborns are, my love. He’s gonna be small.” You unfold a large patchwork quilt, marveling at the craftsman ship as Din gives you a skeptical look.

“These are just so… tiny.” You laugh a bit at the sudden anxiety in his voice.

“I thought Grogu was a baby? You should know how small babies are, how old was he when you found him?”

“Fifty.” You shove his arm.

“Funny.” You stop laughing the second you find a little gray hat with black yarn patterns. “Maker, you’re gonna die when you see this.” You flip it around in your hands, showing him the mock design of his helmet, the thin cross of his visor.

“No kriffing way.” He takes it from you as you fight off a grin.

☆

When you’ve finished going through everything Din packs it all back up, taking it to the nursery as you bake, simultaneously trying to think of different ways to seduce your riduur.

You shoo him away when he tries to help, eventually he settles on sitting on the couch. Reading from where he can see you.

You’re strongly considering just getting “stuck” in the washer and calling him to help you, you’re pretty sure you saw that in a holo at one point.

By the time you finish baking you still have nothing, taking them out of the oven and icing them before placing one on a plate and making your way over to him. You pull yourself up into his lap, gently taking his book and setting it down beside you.

“Mesh’la.” He says in a stern tone, his voice wavers a bit as he struggles to keep his composure.

“I thought you like my baking?” You pout and somehow he falls for it.

Pregnancy has made him even more infatuated with you, if that’s even possible. He’s somehow more gentle with you than ever before.

“Of course I do.” He mumbles sweetly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. You tear off a chunk of the pastry, something you’ve done before, and bring it to his lips.

“Open.” You say sternly and he immediately does, letting you feed him. If it’s possible for a man to be both extremely relaxed and extremely stressed out then that’s what Din currently is.

You stay in his lap.

Feeding him until the plate is empty, he even licks your fingers clean and you’re so mesmerized by the plush softness of his mouth that you can’t help yourself.

You fall forward into him, and he flinches.

He never flinches.

You immediately back up, crawling off his lap as you give him a look of concern, trying to figure out if you’ve hurt him.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” He swallows, avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t be sorry.” You whisper it, leaning forward, resting your head on his shoulder, he takes your hand in yours.

“I just- I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me.”

“Why are you so insistent that I don’t want you?” You finally just tear the band aid off.

Silence.

Briefly, you know he’s deciding if he should say it or not.

“You stopped wanting to have sex when I took the helmet off.” He blurts out and you nearly fall off the couch at the absurdity of his reasoning.

“Din that has noth-“

“And it’s fine. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be attracted to me just for the sake of my ego. You can love me without loving,” He gestures at himself. “this.”

It makes you want to cry.

To think that he thought you were withholding your affections because you didn’t like how he looked. It makes you even more upset to know that he was okay with that, he was willing to live a life believing that to be true and simply never touch you like that again.

“Look, I still have the helmet, we’re going to make this work.” He whispers. His leg bounces up and down until he suddenly stands. “Give me a minute?” He’s already headed for the door. You sit there, a little stunned.

You decide to give him space, you can talk when he comes to bed. You dress in a thin brown camisole and green panties, you try to make yourself look nice, hoping maybe he’ll relax at the sight of it but based on the look he gives you when he comes into the bedroom you’re a little worried it’s having the opposite effect.

“I love you and-” You start but he just collapses into bed next to you.

“Please- mesh’la I can’t, this torment is unbearable.” His hands clutch the fabric of your clothes, his fingers trembling. “You’re making this extremely difficult for me.” He’s downright flushed as he pleads with you.

“I won’t stop until you believe me.” You insist further as he sinks his eyes into you, his pupils swollen and frantically searching your face as he swallows loudly. “You couldn’t be more beautiful to me. It had nothing to do with you, I just- I needed a little time after everything.” You whisper sharply, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “I’ve been waiting to wake up. I keep thinking you’re gonna disappear and I’m going to lose you all over again and none of that is your fault.” The room is quiet aside from your combined breathing.

“Are you sure? Really sure?” He’s speaking so quietly you barely hear him as his fingertips ghost the exposed skin under the bunched up fabric of your top.

“Look, I’m not going to force you to touch me, but I don’t know how else to get my point across and if you really want me to stop all of this then I will-“

“Don’t stop.” He whispers, barely audibly as his hands hold your face, lips pressed to yours. Your head falls back into the pillows as his mouth immediately makes a beeline south, kissing your sternum, you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up. “Please- I wanna taste-” He downright whines as you pull his bottom lip between your teeth.

“After.” You pant into his mouth. “I can’t wait, I need you.”

You do, terribly.

You guide his hand between your legs and his fingers push your panties to the side in an instant, his mouth falls open in a silent moan as he feels the wetness there. He eases a finger into you as you whine impatiently. “I don’t wanna wait-” You reach down to grab at his wrist but he just kisses you again to silence you.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbles, he listens to an extent, pushing in a second finger. The stretch is delicious. You feel like your skin is on fire as you try to push yourself further onto his hand.

“I don’t care, please Din I need you so bad. I need your cock.” Your brain is foggy, you're so turned on right now, you’d do anything to feel him inside you.

He nods, shoving his trousers down and pulling his shirt up over his head as you squirm out of your own clothing. Almost immediately he looks overwhelmed, his eyes don’t know where to settle as they make their way down your body. Finally he swallows, taking his cock in hand, tip pink and pretty as he strokes himself so you can see how he’s already leaking, just for you.

He eases himself into you, slow and steady as you try to stay still. It’s all too much, his thick length pressing deeper and deeper into you until you’re both gasping, forehead to forehead with him fully seated within your heat.

“Okay?” He manages to spit the words out despite the way his chest heaves as you nod.

“Din fuck me please I can take it.” You plead with him, he looks skeptical so you rock your own hips, it isn’t much but it’s enough to make your eyes roll back as you nudge him deeper.

“Look at me.” He whispers as you blink, trying to focus on the warmth in his eyes as he searches your expression for pain.

“You’re so pretty.” You mumble out. He looks a little surprised by the sentiment, his tongue poking out between his lips as he looks at you.

Has anyone ever told him that?

“Thank you.” Is the last thing he says before slamming his hips forwards, the head of his cock bumping against your cervix. His thrusts are erratic and needy as he watches your face intently. He’s so worked up and it’s been so long and the combination of it all has him practically whimpering against you within minutes.

“I can’t- I- It-” He begins to stammer, his lips are wet and swollen, his eyes fight to stay open, pupils darting everywhere like he’s trying to take in as much as he possibly can as his cock pulses inside you.

You want him to come. You want to watch him, watch his face, as he finishes. You want to see him hot and desperate just for you, you want to know that you made him feel this good after just a few minutes.

“I wanna see, please, please Din.” You lay back, gasping with every stutter of his hips, taking in the sight as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I- I- kriff, love you so much.” He hisses out as his hands fist the sheets. The veins in his neck stick out as his mouth falls open, an obscene moan is ripped from him as he rocks his hips forward one last time, you can see where the two of you are connected. His cum spilling out around his length, forced out by the sheer girth of him. His breathing is staggered as he slumps forward, kissing you with a fire that you didn’t realize you missed so much.

He doesn’t kiss you nearly as much as you want before his mouth is already moving down your body, any complaints you have never make it past your lips. It feels too good when he touches you like this.

He squishes the bridge of his nose into your stomach, just below your belly button as he kisses the soft skin there. His mouth hasn’t even made its way between your legs yet and he’s moaning into your flesh, his fingers kneading the meat of your hips.

He pushes your thighs wider apart and you swear you see him drool at the view he’s presented with.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy, waiting for permission. You nod a little too quickly and he dives into you. His tongue immediately works its way into your still dripping hole, he’s everywhere, precise and deliberate as he pushes his own seed back into you.

“So- fucking- good-” He mumbles to himself as if you aren’t even there before flattening his tongue against your clit, it’s enough to have your thighs closing around his head, the cool metal of his hearing aids stings your flesh as you come undone. Your vision goes white as you whine, high pitched and breathy.

He doesn’t stop for a second, eating like you’re a goddamn buffet. When you catch a glimpse of his face his jaw is slick with a combination of the two of you. His eyes are dark as your head falls back, you want so desperately to watch but it’s too much, all you can do is whimper and grip his hair.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves until you’re coming all over again. You collapse back into the pillows, already exhausted but smiling so hard your face hurts. He sits back on his ankles, lifting your legs as he kisses your calves.

He’s perfect like this.

Tan, scarred body on display to you in the warm lamp light. Skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes his hair curl and stick to his forehead. His eyes are dark as his tongue pokes out, swiping across his lips to taste the remnants of you, his cock stands proud against his stomach, already hard and aching for you once more.

“Don’t relax just yet, I’m not done with you.” He mumbles into your tender flesh, hands grabbing your ankles as he yanks you forward, slotting himself between your legs again.

It’s a good thing because you certainly aren’t done with him, you can’t get enough of him for the next six months.

Further into your second trimester nothing’s changed. If anything you’re even more insatiable. If it was possible to get pregnant twice you’d have done it by now.

You also make a point to kiss his face as much as humanly possible, you can’t help but wonder if anyone else ever has.

He likes it in a way you aren’t yet familiar with, he leans into your lips at every opportunity, eager to feel your mouth against the apples of his cheeks, the sensitive skin of his eyelids, the sharp angle of his nose, and the prickles of the stubble on his chin.

And you are more than happy to indulge him.

☆

The third trimester wasn’t much better but you managed to better manage your time. You went on walks, even if they were short, you’d insist on walking around the gardens or the markets whenever you could.

You didn’t think it was possible but somehow Din’s become even more protective. If he had things his way you’d sit in the cabin all day while he stared at you from a few inches to your left.

With that sharp protectiveness has come a silence, it takes a few days for you to notice but you realize just how quiet he’s been. It’s subtle but you know something's off. Word’s become soft arm touches, he holds you a little tighter at night and he never asks if you need help anymore, he just does everything before you can even get to it.

It’s seemingly a couple of things.

You know something is bothering him but he’s become sort of shy.

When you walk the markets he’s still viewed as a member of your staff but you don’t hide things anymore. You’ll feed him by hand if you buy a snack cake, you’ll hold his arm as you walk. He’ll even kiss your forehead if the opportunity arises.

But he’s timid.

And it isn’t until you’re visiting Vivian that you realize what it is. You had been telling her about how hard it’s been for you to decide on a shade of green for the nursery when he had hidden his face in your hair. You had entangled your fingers in his and thought of it as nothing more than an act of affection from him but it started happening more often.

And then it clicked.

He only ever did it after being directly addressed, when people were looking at him. You finally brought it up one night when you’d been trying to get comfortable on the couch, your protruding stomach making it exceedingly difficult.

You’ve got two talking points to cover, the sudden shyness, and getting to the bottom of his silence, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion as to what it’s about.

You eventually settled with your head in his lap and your feet up on the arm rest, smiling up at him as he played with your hair.

“You know you can wear the helmet when we go out if you want.” You finally blurt out as he gives you a confused look.

“Why would I do that?”

“Well I know that you still have it and you just seem a little… uncomfortable sometimes without it.”

“I thought you liked my face?” He says it with a teasing tone but it has you sitting up out of the position you struggled to find for so long.

“I love your face. But I also want you to be comfortable.” You press a long kiss into the coarse facial hair of his jaw, he’s been so busy with house work and you it’s gotten longer than you’ve ever seen or felt it.

“I’m comfortable with you.” He turns his face, nudging his nose against your lips until you kiss him there as well.

“I just noticed that you’ve been a little tense, especially during outings.” You tilt your head, giving him a lopsided smile as he stands, leaning down to cradle your face in his hands.

“I’m just not used to it, cyare.” He stands, examining the space in the room. “I want to put a fireplace in before the baby comes.” He mumbles as he moves the loveseat, making space against the wall.

You seize the opportunity, might as well kill two birds with one stone.

“Speaking of when the baby comes, I thought we were going to visit your little one at some point?”

His shoulders stiffen up for just a moment before he shrugs.

“I guess I’ve just had other things on my mind, nerves about the baby.” He doesn’t look at you, instead he measures the space on the wall with his hands.

“I thought you were excited to be a dad?”

“I am a dad, and I am excited.” He’s mumbling, he hasn’t talked about Grogu in ages and it’s making you worry.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not with me.”

He turns and stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I’m scared.” He sits back down beside you and you wrap your arms around him as best you can with your bump in the way.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’m scared that the baby won’t like me, or that I’ll mess them up, or something like that.” It is so much easier to tell when he’s lying, now that you can see his face. You never would have thought his cheeks would get so rosy.

He’s a natural with kids and he’s been more excited than you are for the baby, he even spends all his free time embroidering the baby’s name into their clothes.

“Din.” You say sternly, pulling back to look at him.

He chews the inside of his cheek a bit.

He whispers something but he’s so quiet you can’t hear him.

“Din, please.” You take his head in your hands and force him to look at you.

“I’m scared that if we go to get Grogu he won’t want to come home with us.”

A pang of sorrow hits your heart.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s happy there, maybe he’s forgotten all about me.” He looks hurt in a way you’ve never seen him before, if you weren’t days away from your due date you’d get on a ship and take him to his boy right now.

“He hasn’t forgotten about you.” You take his hand.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you. And I know that I’d never forget you.” He still looks unsure as you stare into those sad eyes of his. “We have to at least try, it would be better to know. This baby already loves you, that’s enough of an indicator to me that Grogu feels the same.”

“You have no proof that this baby already loves me.” He finally cracks a smile at what you’re implying.

“Come here.” You lay your head back down in his lap, making a second desperate attempt to get comfortable. You grab his hand, lifting the fabric of your top until your stomach is exposed, placing his large palm over the swell of your belly. “Talk to him.”

“What am I supposed to say?” He’s looking at you like you’re insane but you just shrug.

“You talk to him all the time.”

“Yeah but you never put me on the spot like this.” With his freehand he rubs the back of his neck.

“Just do it.” He takes a deep breath, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Hello ik’aad.” He says softly, looking up at you for approval as you nod. “I’m excited to meet you soon, little one.” You watch as the taut skin moves ever so slightly, a little kick against Din’s fingers. His eyes go wide as he sits there a little stunned, you put your hand over his.

“He does this most of the time when you talk to him. He likes your voice.”

“What else should I tell him about?”

“Anything.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkle before he smiles at your bump.

“We painted your crib today, we decided to leave the walls alone but we wanted something to be green.” He carries on excitedly as you continue to feel the little flutters within you. “And- and someday you’re going to share a room with your brother.” You smile as your little one reacts to his fathers voice, you sit up, facing him.

“No more worrying. And if you’re going to worry then I want you to tell me.” You kiss as much of his face as you can. “Okay? Do this for me, please?”

“Okay.” He nods as you give him one last kiss on the lips.

You move to sit between his legs like you used to in the nook, you find yourself a book as he puts his hands back on your bump while you read.

He spends the rest of the night talking to your stomach.

☆

Arin Kuiil Djarin (Harand) was born with a full head of hair. Dark, messy curls that you could make out even through your tears when he came into this world.

The future monarch. (A ceremonial position.)

A screaming ball of tears in your arms, crowned king from birth. A boy everyone knew as the only son of the recently departed Kodo Harand.

Your “royal advisor and personal guard” was beside you the entire time. Holding your hand and kissing your sweat slicked forehead as he whispered to you, telling you just how strong you were. It was one hell of a night but when the morning came suddenly you were parents to a strong, loud little boy.

Din held him first, after he cut the umbilical cord the doctor handed him to him. You watched as he cradled the tiny crying baby in his arms, shushing him softly as he rocked him. It took only a few whispers from his father before Arin calmed down, gasping faintly as Din slid into the bed next to you. You laid your head against his arm, unable to tear your eyes off of the tiny miracle.

“Do you wanna hold him?” Din’s voice cracks as he continues to stare at him.

You nod, a little scared about how small he is but you hold your hands out regardless as he carefully transfers him into the crook of your arm. You’re holding your breath as you look down at him.

When he’s safe in your arms he finally opens his eyes.

He is just a little copy of your riduur.

Dark curious eyes scanning your face as you burst into another wave of tears.

“He’s perfect.”

You both whisper at the same time, laughing softly. You hold him tightly, Din’s arms wrapped protectively around both of you.

Your entire universe in one little medcenter bed.

☆

You go on a lot of walks.

It helps you get out of the house and people love to see Arin. Din wears a baby carrier Elaine made with the little one strapped to his chest while you hold his hand. Everyone loves to see the little king, telling you that he’s such a good baby.

People often say he looks just like his father, you always laugh and smile at your brown haired boy.

He really does.

He acts just like his father too. Even as a baby you can see his personality shining through. He likes to fight you on a lot of things, mostly vegetables and wearing his socks, but he loves you endlessly, your little mama’s boy. You never thought you’d see the adoration from Din’s eyes in someone else's but here he is, smiling up at you like you’re the sun, just like Din.

Your son was one year old when you met your second son. (Technically your eldest.)

You had urged Din to go to him sooner but he always found excuses, finally he told you he wanted to wait until Arin was a little older. On his first birthday you finally convinced him, and your family took a trip to a planet called Ossus.

And you met a little boy who you loved as a son from the moment you met him.

He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting but the moment he saw Din you recognized the look in his eyes as the same look Arin gives him first thing in the morning. And from that moment on you knew he was yours.

You couldn’t ask for sweeter boys in your life.

You finally found your peace.

Your freedom.

Things are a little different now but you never find a reason to be upset about it. You just learn to live with it.

Sometimes Din has to cut up any fruits or vegetables you’re preparing for dinner because the wet slicing sound makes your heart race.

You sleep with a lamp on because Din trembles when a room goes completely dark, when he asks why you don’t turn it off you tell him you just like having it on because you know he’ll never tell you just how afraid he was when he was trapped beneath the stone and earth.

You wrap him in blankets when winter comes and cradle his head against your chest, desperate to keep him warm. You see the vacant look in his eyes when a chill settles in his bones. The moment you see him shiver you bundle him up and drag him to bed, warming him with gentle and precise kisses until his eyes soften up again.

Din always wakes you up if he’s leaving the room after you’ve fallen asleep. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to the fresher or if he’s going to grab the baby and come right back. Because he knows that if he isn’t there when you wake up, you will freeze up in terror and cry softly to yourself until he returns.

On stormy nights, when the wind blows a certain way that resembles a low wailing, Din will always find an excuse to send Lysa a transmission, asking how Elaine is doing.

You learn to live with the little thing’s because sometimes you can’t heal completely, but you live regardless. You have reasons to endure.

You endure for Din.

You endure for Grogu.

And you endure for Arin.

Din always says he was born to love you.

You agree but that wasn’t all he was born for, he was born to be a father.

Arin and Grogu taught you to be a mother, but Din was made for fatherhood.

That’s what you think about, as you sit in the loveseat by the fire, book in hand. You aren’t actually reading it, you’re too busy watching the scene on the floor in front of you. Your sons peek out of the pillow fort they’ve built against the sofa, Arin covering his mouth as he holds in a giggle, staring at you with his wide brown eyes. You give him a small wave, watching as he darts back inside.

“Are you staring at your mother, young man? Staring is very rude.” You hear Din’s voice from inside the fort, a large bump in the blanket roof where he sits. More giggles follow as he crawls back to the small entryway, you watch as he shrieks when Din drags him back into the fort, taking his place and mimicking the little boy as he stares at you.

He looks at you with a devotion that never wavers.

“You’re my creed. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all for you. For both of you.”

He still tells you that often. Except now he says for all of you.

He crawls out of the fort, his face red from exertion as he makes his way over to your chair, like he’s under some sort of spell that pulls him towards you.

“How are my girls, buir sarad?” Din’s out of breath as he grabs the armrests of the chair, caging you in as he kisses you.

“Tired.” You grin at him as he kneels down in front of you, resting his forehead on the bump you’re cradling with your freehand. You set your book down on the end table next to you, content to watch as he knocks his nose against the strained fabric of your dress.

“Sarad’ika.” He smiles, kissing the top of your stomach, you don’t mind losing your nickname to someone it suits more. “Let me put them to bed, I’ll be right back.” His lips turn up as he stands, looking down at the two boys with drooping eyes and mouths open in yawns.

“Go with your buir now my loves, I’ll come tuck you in in a minute.” You groan as you stand, Din scooping up both babies with ease.

“Haav ca’nara.” Bed time. He whispers, carrying them towards the fresher, you hear the water run as he washes their little faces and brushes their teeth.

You tidy up, folding blankets and rearranging pillows as you hear water splashing from the other room followed by a loud sigh. You stifle a laugh as you watch your boys running from the fresher down the hall towards their room, a soaking wet Din soon follows. You continue to clean, waiting until it gets quiet before making your way out of the room. You walk past the nursery, empty and waiting for its next occupant, towards the door with the faint glow of a night light. Peering in from the doorway you see all your boys in one room.

Grogu and Arin lay in their respective beds, each is far too big for the small boys but they’ll grow into them. Grogu’s already asleep as Din kneels beside Arin’s bed, brushing a curl out of the little one's eyes.

“Goodnight, ik’aad.” He leans down, kissing his son's face, earning a sleepy smile from the boy.

“Night, buir.” He mumbles out, he doesn’t speak often, quiet like his father, but when he does it’s always clear.

Din smiles, standing, kissing your cheek as he passes you, going out into the main room to lock up as you make your way to Grogu’s bedside, watching his eyes flutter as you press a kiss into his wrinkly green forehead.

“Goodnight, my love.” You mumble before turning to Arin’s bed, sitting beside him as you watch him fight sleep, trying to keep his eyes open. “Sleep now my little love.” You murmur to him, kissing your fingertips before bringing them to his forehead.

“Goodnight mama.” He yawns out as you watch him finally succumb to sleep.

You leave the door open a crack, letting out another groan as you rub your stomach, Din waits for you in the dimly lit hall, holding out a hand which you happily take, letting him pull you into an embrace.

“No more babies after this one, my back is killing me.” You give him a stern look as he brings both hands to your bump.

“You have given me everything, I wouldn’t possibly ask for more.” He whispers. “Although I do think we could handle one more.” He raises his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, you carry the next one then.” You reach behind him, pushing open the door as you grab the collar of his tunic, pulling him into a kiss while you laugh against each other.

“I love you.” He mumbles.

“I love you too.” There is no hesitation. There hasn’t been for a long time.

And you go to bed.

In your perfectly sized bedroom.

On your perfectly sized mattress.

With your Din.

☆

a/n : this is technically the last chapter of bks <3 :,) epilouge in one week. q&a tomorrow so send your asks with questions. all my love to everyone whos read this far.

i no longer have a tag list !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates !!

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 2 months

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On The Verge of a Usual Mistake ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

On the Verge of a Usual Mistake | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): ex!Lucien x actress!reader x ex!Dieter

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.3k | CONTENT: this is truly just porn with minimal plot (I'm so proud of myself lol), Dieter and Lucien are messy exes, threesome activities, Twister but with genitalia, Daddy and Papi kinks

| SYNOPSIS: You've been avoiding your exes Dieter Bravo and Lucien Flores all night at this event, but you're forced to come to terms with how things ended in both relationships when they seek to right their wrongs.

“My publicist is gonna kill me!” you hiss into the dampened light of the small room Lucien unceremoniously ushered you into.

“Baby, come on. The tabloids loved us together, remember?” he coos.

“The two of you can’t just be pulling this shit! Not when I’m trying to talk to Wayne from A24 about—”

“The fuck’re you two doing in here?” Dieter whispers loudly as he closes and locks the door behind him. “You seriously going back to him after turning me down?”

“Dee, this is not the time,” you snap. “And I’m not doing a fucking thing with this asshole. He practically herded me in here.” You’re grateful neither of them are aware of the pooling slick between your legs you’ve been dutifully ignoring all night with them both chasing you around and begging for a moment alone.

“Well, three makes a party then,” Dieter decides.

“We’re not interested in that sort of partying,” Lucien cuts in.

“Oh, cut the sober lifestyle bullshit. I’m not the one you’re gonna fool with those bogus rehab claims,” Dieter scoffs.

“Well I guess if anybody knows about stints in rehab, it’s you,” Lucien snipes back.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you huff. You push past Lucien who grabs for you, but it’s ultimately Dieter’s gentle but firm hold that keeps you from exiting. “Dee, let go of me. The two of you can have at each other all you want. Besides, you don’t need me here when neither one of you is gonna listen to me anyway.”

“Don’t be like that,” Lucien pleads. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me all night.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you laugh without a hint of amusement. “You want me to listen to you. Never the other way around. It’s the same with both of you. Always has been. Neither of you know how to put anybody else first. Why do you think I ended things? You’re just two peas in a fucking pod.”

“You really feel that way?” Dieter’s hold on you has slackened to a weak grip. Your head whirls back around to look him in the eye. He looks hurt. Dammit. “You think I don’t want to put you first?”

“I never knew that,” Lucien admits quietly. He edges in closer until you’re practically sandwiched between your exes.

“It’s not like I didn’t tell you,” you grumble, aggrieved at their past mistakes and kicking yourself for not just bolting out the door before they mess with your head like they always do.

Some quiet exchange happens between Dieter and Lucien, and you recognize the silent conversation just as it appears to end. Lucien’s hand creeps along your lower back while Dieter’s hands crawl back up your sides and arms.

“You’re right, baby. I never did things how I should’ve when it came to you. I blew it. Messed up the best thing I ever had. S’why I’ve been on your heels all night just trying to get a word with you,” Lucien says softly into your hair. You shiver at his warm breath fanning across your skin.

“I miss you so much,” Dieter confesses in a hush. “Let me show you how much I miss you. Please.”

“Let us both show you,” Lucien adds. “Let us show you we can listen. Let us show you we can put you first.”

You’re going to give yourself a stern talking to in the mirror tomorrow morning, but right now all the reasons why this is a terrible idea are like wisps of smoke catching to the wind. When Dieter nuzzles against the crook of your neck and Lucien is already down on the ground and underneath your dress, your resolve shatters into a million pieces. “Okay. Yeah, I–oh fuck, Lucien–”

The fat wet line of his tongue between your folds jolts you forward into Dieter who busies himself with lifting and tucking your dress aside so he doesn’t miss the show. He’s already got the top of your dress shoved down so he can suckle on your tightening nipples. “Dee,” you gasp.

“I got you,” he groans, nipping and teasing your nubs. “God you look so good. Missed this so fucking much. Missed these tits so fucking much.” He gropes them in appreciation, and his eyes go wide in that wondrous sort of way that they always seemed to whenever the two of you fucked. Every time was like he’d never seen a woman before, not with the way he’d shower you with compliments and superlatives.

Your legs are already shaky with Lucien working between them, and you don’t even bother feeling ashamed at the orgasm that’s already building. It’s been a long time since you’d been with an attentive partner, and nothing quite compared to the likes of Dieter or Lucien. They’d ruined other sexual partners for you forever, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling them as much. Their egos were inflated enough as it was. Besides, they’d just hear that and not the other side of the coin which was how they were stingy, selfish companions when it came to the emotional aspect of a relationship.

“You want to be Mommy tonight? Or do you want me to be Daddy?” Dieter asks a little breathlessly.

Throwing all dignity out the window, you reply, “I want Daddy tonight.”

He almost sounds pained as his eyes clamp shut at your answer. “Fuck yeah, I can do that. I can be Daddy. You need your Daddy?”

You nod so loose and frantic it feels like your head isn’t attached to your neck. Lucien never stops but inches forward until he’s looking up at you from between the cradle of your thighs. “Tell Papi what you want,” he husks.

“I-I want you to make me come, Papi,” you whine with a roll of your hips.

He suctions onto your clit, and you’re gone. Dieter seems absolutely giddy to watch another man make you come, but something about it is comforting and endearing. You hate how familiar and heady this all feels, knowing full well that come tomorrow morning it’ll be another fading memory to lump in with all the others. You push away the painful acknowledgement before it ruins your orgasm entirely.

Dieter’s fingers slip inside you with no resistance, and you both moan in unison at the way you part for him. Lucien’s wet mouth and chin leave a sloppy trail across your neck where he lays even sloppier kisses. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You nod, and he unzips and unfastens your dress before tossing it onto a nearby table. “I fuckin knew you wouldn’t be wearing panties,” he says low and needy into your ear.

The rhythmic plunge of Dieter’s fingers has you hurtling towards another climax. “Been a while since somebody gave you what you needed, baby?”

You bite your lip and dip your head. You hate how easily they could both read you. It made you feel laid bare, and not in the fun sort of way.

“Let Papi and Daddy make you feel good, okay? Don’t think about anything except letting us make you feel good,” Lucien whispers against your temple from behind. You feel the hard curve of his clothed cock pressing against your ass. You push back against it and stifle a grin when he moans. The grin slips away the moment Lucien’s fingers slide down your body to rub your clit in time with Dieter’s fingering. You aren’t sure whose hand comes to cover your mouth while you come, but you’re glad somebody has enough sense right now to think about other partygoers overhearing.

“You were always so pretty when you fell apart,” Dieter reminisces with a goofy, tender smile. He slips his fingers from you and licks them clean. “Better than I remembered.”

The sound of Lucien’s belt and zipper draw your attention backward. “You gonna let me fuck you wide open, baby? Think you can take all of me? It’s been a long time.”

“I can take it,” you breathe, arching your back for him to enter you from behind.

“Good girl for Papi,” he praises. He jerks himself a few times with a slip of spit and lines his cock up to your entrance. “Always such a good girl for your Papi, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Papi. I’ll be good,” you choke out.

He inches inside you with an agonizing, languid pace. Your breath catches when he finally bottoms out. He’s so much bigger than you remember, but you still want more. Dieter captures your mouth in a heated kiss just as Lucien starts thrusting, and your high pitched cries of pleasure are caught between his lips. “Daddy,” you whine as you latch onto his shoulders for support. Lucien’s pace picks up quickly, and for a few minutes the small room is only filled with panting and the squelching sounds of him splitting you open.

“You’re taking his cock so good, baby,” Dieter says against your teeth. “You like taking raw cock, don’t you? You always begged Daddy to fuck you raw.”

“Fuck! Yes, I like it when Papi and Daddy fuck me raw,” you cry. “I want Daddy to fuck me raw, too.”

“Yeah?” he goads with a smile. “You want Daddy’s cock after Papi fills you up?”

Lucien grunts and whimpers as he struggles to keep his pace with all the back and forth filth.

“N-No, Daddy. Want you and Papi to fuck me raw together,” you beg. “Please, Daddy. Please Papi?”

Dieter rushes to free his cock and wet it with spit as Lucien starts chanting yes yes yes. He stills for Dieter to push against his own length and fight for the tight space of your cunt. They work together to hoist you higher until Dieter is notched at your entrance and finally pushing inside. The stretch burns and makes you feel present in your own body in such an overwhelming way for the first time in a long time. The first few thrusts are experimental and slow, but it doesn’t matter. You’re already crying and coming and losing yourself in the intoxicating sting of both their cocks wedged inside the fist of your cunt.

“Christ,” Dieter hisses. “Fuck, this is gonna make me come too fast.”

“Tell us what you want,” Lucien urges, sounding close to the edge himself.

Your pussy throbs and clenches around them both as you try to make your brain and mouth cooperate. “I want you to come in me, Papi,” you whine. “Want you and Daddy to fuck me and make me come again. Make me come and then fuck me ‘til you come inside me.”

“Anything for my girl – Papi’s good girl,” he assents.

“Daddy’ll give you whatever you want, baby,” Dieter adds in a hoarse sounding wheeze. “Gonna milk my cock in this tight little pussy. Gonna give you whatever you want.”

Despite never really caring much for one another, Dieter and Lucien seem to sync up with the common goal of giving you another mind numbing orgasm. The feel of their thick cocks crowding your insides, sliding against each other so that each push and pull is a constant punch of a cockhead against your cervix. “Fuck I’m gonna come again,” you blurt out as your climax surges and swells without warning.

You’re sandwiched between two sweaty and breathy men who now seek their own release. Dieter comes first with a pitiful little stuttering whine. His mouth rounds out in a messy kiss as he pulses inside you. Lucien is just behind him with a gravelly moan as he fucks you nonstop. There’s so much of them spilling inside you and being pushed out, and the warmth of it makes you feel sated and soothed.

You’re a boneless bag of flesh when they both catch their breath and ease you off the spear of their cocks. You sigh at the feeling of them drooling out of your pussy. With their concentrated, streamlined focus, your dress is put back on and properly closed back up. Lucien turns you to face him for the first time since you tried to leave earlier. “Can I kiss you?”

You want to laugh at his request given the fact that he’s currently leaking out of you alongside the efforts of your other ex, but you know why he’s asking. He knows certain types of intimacy are something that mean more to you and have to be earned back in trust. “Yeah, Lucien. You can kiss me.”

His body nudges yours against Dieter’s, hands coming up to cradle your face as he tenderly presses his lips to yours. It’s slow and soft and damn near perfect, especially considering Dieter is dotting the curve of your neck with his own kisses. You aren’t sure how long you and Lucien are lost in each other, but it’s blowing your mind to see Dieter be patient for once. Maybe they both really meant it when they said they wanted to do better by you.

You pull back with red, puffy lips and heavy eyes. Lucien looks down at you with a soft smile. “I miss you.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the unspoken words laced within: I love you.

“I miss you every day,” Dieter agrees quietly.

“Look, I–I miss you both, too, but I can’t promise anything,” you warn them. “You both really hurt me before. But, tonight was… nice. It felt nice.” You wonder why it never occurred to you to do this before. The two best lovers you ever had, at the same time. It was a no brainer, really. Probably all that pesky broken heart stuff clouding your mind that kept you from realizing what a good time it could be.

“You don’t have to make promises anymore. That’s not your job anymore.”

“No, baby. We’re the one who need to make promises so we can show you that we can keep them,” Dieter adds.

It might be the dumbest mistake of your life, but you can’t fight it anymore. You can’t fight how good it feels to be with them both. Despite all the pain and heartache they’ve caused you over the years, they both always felt like home in a way. “I think I might be willing to let you try.”

Okay the Lucien Flores brainrot got to me. As far as exes go in the celebrity world, you could do a lot worse than Lucien and Dieter. Also, reader clearly has a type haha.

#lucien flores x reader #dieter bravo x reader #lucien flores x you #dieter bravo x you #lucien flores smut #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal characters #the bubble #the uninvited

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ilovepedro · 8 months

Text

Tear You Apart | joel miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Joel hates Halloween, but he loves you. You drag him to your best friends’ Halloween party, who are dying to meet the older man that’s making their friend so happy. However, a side of him you’ve never seen before is unleashed after both your boundaries are pushed; and Joel reminds you who you belong to.

Word count: ~10k (jesus christ this got away from me)

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Warnings: no outbreak AU, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid/late 20s, Joel is late 40s), possessive!Joel, (soft)dom!Joel, jealous!Joel if you squint, some angst (man harasses reader), Joel uses violence to defend your honor, semi-public sex (they fuck at a party in the guest room), oral (f and m receiving), thigh riding, mirror sex, squirting, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), Joel calls reader a slut once, biting, some nipple play, creampie, cum eating, some fluff, Joel is dressed as a vampire, lil bit of OOC Joel, reader is female and has hair Joel can pull but has no physical descriptions, NO USE OF Y/N

A/N: Graphic is for aesthetic purposes only and does not depict reader, she is completely faceless and a reader insert through and through. Loosely based on Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

It's here! I hope y'all enjoy, I had so much fun with this one!

Special thanks to @nostalxgic @gracieheartsspedro @undrthelights @jenispunk and @mandoisapunk for listening to me scream about this for weeks. I love u girlies <333

Stunning graphic by @nostalxgic

Divider by @saradika

“It’ll be so much fun, babe, I promise! Jas and Matt have been dying to meet you too,” you tell Joel about the Halloween party your best friends are throwing. They’ve been dying to meet him, curious about the man who’s made their friend so happy the past 8 months.

You’re perched atop the counter, feet swaying as you keep him company while he works.

Joel’s crouched down on his knees, fixing the leaking faucet in your apartment that you’ve been complaining about for a week now. “I don’t know, darlin’, y’know ‘m no good at socializin’ ‘n stuff. ‘N why’re they so excited to meet an old man like me?” Joel grunts as he works under the sink.

“Because, an old man like you makes me really happy and they just want to meet the reason for my new ‘glow’ they like to call it.”

With one last grunt, he tightens the pipes and rises to his feet. “So you think ‘m old?” He huffs, brows furrowed, sweat beading down his temple. “What would you do if I said yes?” You tease, as you bite back a smile.

“Then I’ll jus’ have t’ show you what this old man’s capable of,” he says as he leans down to nibble at your neck. You yelp at the feeling, dissipating into laughter. You can feel him smirk against your skin. “That reminds me! I’ve already picked out our costumes,” you say, wrapping your arms around his back, tilting your head back to grant him more access as he litters kisses along your neck and collarbone.

“Oh yeah? ‘N what are we gonna be?” “Vampires. I’ve already got the fangs and a cape for you. I think it’s very fitting, considering what you’re doing right now,” you giggle, his patchy beard scratching your skin.

“Ain’t vampires like a hundred years old?” Joel lifts his head, meeting your gaze. “Even more fitting!” You press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, hopping off the counter. He pulls you back by the waist before you can leave. “Watch it, darlin’,” playfully warning you.

“I’m kidding, baby,” you reassure him, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his temple. “Mm,” he grunts as he playfully smacks your ass. He leans down to press one more kiss to your lips - a soft, gentle one. You leave to order dinner for the two of you.

“Oh, and Joel?” “Yes, baby?” “I’m fully aware of what you’re capable of. You can show me after dinner, after you try your costume on,” you tell him before exiting the kitchen. He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

The shit he does for you.

“I feel silly, darlin’,” Joel mumbles as you finish applying the fake blood on his chin. “It’s a Halloween party, Joel! Everyone there will be wearing costumes, no need to feel silly,” you tell him as you adjust the collar on his cape and smooth out his white button up. His chest is slightly exposed, a few buttons undone.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you look really sexy. You’re really working those fangs.” You swear you see him blush as he shyly chuckles, the fangs peeking through his smile.

“You seen yourself, darlin’? Sexiest fuckin’ vampire ever. Jus’ wanna lay you out and eat ya for hours,” he says pulling you flush against his chest. His hands roam up and down your body, you’re adorned in a black mini dress and lacy black stockings. Fake blood dripping from your red and black painted lips and matching subtle fangs.

“Joel Miller! You kiss your mother with that mouth?!” You playfully smack his chest, flustered by his statement. “Nope, jus’ you, baby,” he laughs, nose nudging yours as he kisses you. You smile as you melt into the kiss, his arms, him.

You breathlessly pull away from him. “No more of that, or else we’re never gonna leave,” you say as you wipe the smudged fake blood and your lipstick from his lips. “I ain’t got a problem with that, honey.”

The bass is booming so loud you can feel the vibrations of the music from outside the house. There’s small crowds scattered throughout on the lawn smoking weed and cigarettes, the smell permeating the damp evening air.

The two of you walk up the porch, fingers laced in each others’. Joel holds a 12 pack of beers in his free hand, a bottle of tequila in yours.

You hear your name called from behind you near the porch, whipping your head around the see who is trying to get your attention. You spot a man in a devil costume, gasping as realization hits you.

“Oh my god, Matt! Hi! Jas said you had to work, so I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be here, how are you?!” Matt, your friend Jas’ - Jasmine - boyfriend and your good friend, engulfs you in an awkward hug as you continue to hold Joel’s hand.

“Of course I’m here! Wouldn’t miss meeting the famous Joel Miller,” he lightheartedly laughs. Your hand still in Joel’s, you pull back and bring Joel forward. “Joel, this is my friend and Jasmine’s boyfriend, Matt. Matt, this is my boyfriend, Joel,” you gesture in between them.

Joel lets go of your hand and extends it out to Matt. “Nice to meet ya, Matt,” he says politely. “Back at you, man. Jas never stops talking about how happy you make her, so it’s nice to have a face to the name,” Matt says as he firmly shakes Joel’s hand.

“Didn’t know I was a household name,” Joel jokes as he reaches for your hand again. Matt laughs and you bite back a smile.

“Yeah, you’re a popular subject in this house. Let’s head inside, Jas has been waiting for you two to show up,” Matt says as he opens the front door to lead you two into the party.

It’s loud in the house. Bottles, cans, neon shot glasses, and red solo cups are littered all over the house. Caution tape and cotton cobwebs are draped on the walls as jack-o-lanterns are scattered throughout the living room. The color-changing lights flash throughout the room. People are clumped in groups, dressed in varying costumes, dancing and conversing over the music.

You can sense Joel’s shift in his mood, feeling his nerves and you squeeze his hand to reassure him that everything’s good. He looks down at you and gives you a soft smile. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Jas! Your special guest has arrived!” Matt shouts over the music as you three walk into the kitchen. Jasmine whips around at lightning speed, her angel wings bumping into the people surrounding her. She lets out an excited scream.

“You came!” She drops the cups she was holding on the counter and lunges at you, giving you a bone-crushing hug. “Of course I did! I wouldn’t miss the party of the year!” You let go of Joel’s hand and wrap your arms under her wings.

She gasps as she pulls back. “And I see you’ve brought the special someone! Hi, I’m Jas, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Joel!” She reaches out to hug Joel. He shifts a little, caught off guard by the hug, but adjusts to it immediately.

“Nice to finally meet you too, Jasmine. She talks about ya all the time, I know you two are thick as thieves,” he says while returning the hug with a smile. You can sense his relief.

“Oh, please call me Jas. And I could say the same about you! She never shuts up about you. I kept asking her ��when am I finally gonna meet this mysterious Joel you keep talking about’ and it only took her eight months to introduce me,” she turns to you as she emphasizes her words.

“Pardon me, Jas. I was part of the stallin’. Just nervous to be around a younger crowd ‘n also want t’ make a good impression. I know ya mean a lot to her,” Joel tells Jas.

Jas softens at his words, her lips curling upside down with her hands pressed to her heart. “No need to be nervous! I like you already, Joel,” she says with a toothy grin. She turns to you again. “You were right, he’s as sweet as pie,” a rush of embarrassment floods your body, shyly smiling at her words.

“Oh, and you brought more alcohol?! Such a Southern gentleman! Thank you so much, you two,” Jas giddily exclaims as she takes sight of the bottle of tequila and 12 pack from you and Joel.

“‘Course, what kinda guests would we be showing up empty-handed?” Joel asks, handing the alcohol over to Jas. She and Matt place the beer in one of many coolers and the bottle at the make-shift bar on the counter.

“Good ones,” Jas says, disappointment lacing her tone. “Mostly everyone showed up empty-handed, so we appreciate this so much. Thank you again! Now, let’s get you two some drinks!”

Jas pours the four of you some shots and passes them around. “To new beginnings and a great night!” Jas shouts as she raises her glass in the air. “Cheers!” The three of you say, copying her actions. You toss back the tequila, immediately chasing it with a lime wedge, grimacing at the burn.

“Was smooth,” Joel says, completely unfazed by the taste and sensation. He chuckles at your reaction and pulls you into his side. His large hand rests on your waist, toying with the hem of your dress. You look up at him, giddy like a schoolgirl as you try to keep your composure under his touch, feeling electrified as he shows you off and claims you as his.

“If you don’t mind, could I steal you away for a bit? I wanna get to know you a bit more, if you don’t mind, brother,” Matt asks Joel while glancing in between the two of you. “No fair, babe! I wanted to interrogate him first,” Jas huffs while she mixes cocktails for you and her.

You and Joel laugh, his coming out a bit more uneasy than he intended. “Sure, man, I don’t mind. I promise to answer all your questions,” Joel says, letting go of your waist.

Jas hands you a red solo cup filled with something and Joel is about to be whisked away by Matt, but not before he leans down to press a swift kiss to your lips, careful not to ruin your makeup or his fake blood.

“He seems like a keeper,” Jas says smugly as the men walk away and the two of you sip your drinks. “You haven’t stopped smiling at him since you got here. You got it bad, babe.” You choke on your drink, a mix of embarrassment and disgust as the taste of the drink settles on your tongue.

“What the fuck did you even make?!” Jas laughs, “Your favorite! Rum and diet coke with a twist, but I might’ve put in a little more rum than diet coke.” You wince, but go back for another sip. Joel is driving so you could enjoy yourself, so why not?

“But in all seriousness,” Jas yells over the music while leading you two into the hallway away from the bustling kitchen. “You’re the happiest you’ve ever been and that’s all I want for you. I’m assuming he’s treating you right… right?”

You soften at her sentiment. “Yeah, babe, he treats me right. And I am happy, like beyond happy. He’s amazing, and you know I don’t just say that about any man so easily” you joke, the two of you giggling over your drinks.

“So the two of you have been together for what, 8 months now? I’m glad you could finally join us, and I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. Jas and I’ve just been so impatient waiting to meet you ‘cause she never stops talking about you,” Matt says while taking a sip of his beer, Joel mirroring him as they stand on opposing sides of the foyer.

“Yeah, 8 months now. ‘N no, no hard feelin’s, man. We just both wanted t’ be sure about each other before introducing each other to people. She told me you and Jas have been together for 4 years, so ‘m assumin’ ya know about her past experiences if Jas has told ya anythin’,” Joel says while taking another swig of his beer.

“Yeah, I know about ‘em all. Saw her go through some rough shit with her last ex. She’s been through hell and any friend of Jas is a friend of mine. I hope you get what I’m trying to say,” Matt says.

Joel nods in understanding. “Yeah, I do, man, don’t worry. ‘S a big reason why it’s taken me so long to come around, so I get where you’re comin’ from,” Joel tells Matt as he nudges him with his elbow. “And what’s the other reason, if you don’t mind me asking?” Matt awaits Joel's answer

“Ain’t it obvious? ‘M fuckin’ twice y’alls age,” Joel says, brows furrowed in confusion with a smirk on his face. “Ah, that, man? We’re all grown! And she’s got a mind of her own, she can make her own decisions. That shit don’t matter, man! Were you that nervous to meet us?”

Joel laughs gratefully. “Hell yeah, I was! I was worried we wouldn’t have anythin’ t’ talk about. Sometimes, she makes references ‘n I don’t understand what the hell she’s sayin’, but ‘m real glad that don’t matter to any of ya,” he says, raising his bottle to Matt. “Yeah, man, that don’t matter, as long as she’s happy! Which she seems to be,” Matt says. “Hope she is,” Joel mutters, the two of them clinking bottles together.

“It looks like they’re getting along! That’s a good sign. Matt normally isn’t open to meeting any of your dates, especially after Christian. He was a complete asshole, but I’m glad things are better for you now, babe. Seriously,” Jas tells you, the two of you huddled together on the loveseat, sipping your 5th rum and diet cokes.

You’re definitely feeling the effects of them now, your head feels warm and fuzzy along with the rest of your body. “Joel was so nervous to come tonight, Jas - more nervous than me. His age obviously doesn’t bother me, but does it bother you? Be honest,” you ask her, nervously fiddling with your nearly empty cup.

“No, babe, not at all. And you should know this! You know I’ll always support you as long as you're happy. You weren’t happy with any of those assholes from the past, which is why I wasn’t supportive of your relationships with them,” she says.

You shift in the loveseat, casting your gaze towards the floor. “But, I support you now,” she quickly adds, placing her hand on top of yours, forcing your eyes to meet hers. “I support this. He’s good for you, I can tell. And I think you’re good for him too.” You both smile at each other. This time, you lunge at her, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” you say into her ear, embracing her for a moment. The two of you pull away.

“Matt needs to hurry up so I can talk to Joel, he’s hogging him,” she says as she rises from the loveseat. “I’m gonna get a refill, want one?” She asks, holding her hand out to you.

“I’m good for right now, I think I’m already drunk, so I’m gonna slow down for a bit. I’m gonna go find Joel though, I wanna dance!” You tell her, rising from the loveseat with her hand in yours.

“You think he’ll dance with you? Don’t get me wrong, I love that he makes you happy, but he doesn’t seem like the dancing type.” “Babe, he’s already wearing a costume and came with me. I think he’ll do just about anything I ask of him,” a smug smile plastering your face. Wobbly from the liquor, you carefully make your way towards Joel and Matt.

“Hey, baby,” you slur, interrupting their conversation as you clutch Joel’s strong forearm to gain some sort of balance. “Woah, you good there, babydoll?” Joel asks, catching you as you struggle to stand still. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just drank a lot without moving, so I’m feeling it. I hope you two had a nice talk because I’m about to steal him away. Sorry, Matt,” you shrug.

Matt has a shit eating grin on his face. “No worries… babydoll,” he barks out a laugh. You feel warm, and not just because of the alcohol. Heat radiates all throughout your body, your stomach flipping at Joel’s affection and Matt’s teasing. Joel playfully swats Matt on the shoulder. “Watch it, man.” Matt doubles over at Joel’s lame attempt to warn him. Joel feels his face heat up with embarrassment. Matt takes great joy in seeing the two of you flustered.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Matt says while putting his hands up in surrender, leaving you two alone in the hallway. The first time the two of you’ve had a moment to yourselves since arriving. You look up at him, chin resting against his thick bicep. He looks down, his eyes hazy with a mixture of love and lust.

“Hi, baby,” he says while pressing a kiss to your head, beer bottle now placed on a decorative wooden table. “You and Matt getting along? Seems like it.” “Yeah, he’s a cool guy. Real protective of you.” He wraps his free arm around your waist, maneuvering the both of you so that your chests are pressed together. “Well, Jas is like my sister and he’s been with her for years, so he’s kind of like a brother to me in a way. Both of them just want me to be happy.”

He takes in your words, rubbing small circles on your lower back. “Are you happy, babydoll?” He seems to know the answer, but you can feel his confidence waver. You scoff in disbelief, that you can’t help but mess with him. “That’s a crazy question, Joel. Of course I’m not happy, I actually can’t stand you. I only keep you around to fix stuff for me.” Joel rolls his eyes and smirks.

“Mmm, is that so, darlin’?” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your neck, sucking on that spot near your collarbone. You throw your head back into a fit of giggles. “I’m just joking, Joel. Of course I’m happy, baby. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” He hums into your neck, lightly kissing the spot before lifting his head. “Me too. I love you, darlin’,” he says, meeting your eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I love you too, baby.”

You tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips, completely melting into his embrace. He moves one hand from your waist to cup your cheek, pulling you in closer. Both of you sighing into the kiss, relishing in your solitude.

“How much do you love me, Joel?” You breathlessly ask when you pull away. He quirks his brow. “More than anythin’, baby… why?” He can’t help but feel curious as he sees a smirk make its way onto your face. “You love me enough to dance with me?”

Dancing has never been his scene, socializing has never been his thing, but you’re everything.

Your fangs peek through as you bite your bottom lip awaiting his answer. He sighs, “‘Course I do, darlin’. Y’know I’d do anythin’ for ya, also can never say no to ya. I showed up to this party in a goddamn vampire costume, didn’t I?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, going in for another kiss. Joel moves his hand down your ass and squeezes it, eliciting a yelp from you and breaking the kiss.

“Joel!” You scold him, no trace of malice in your voice. He just laughs, letting go of your waist and taking your hand in his. His empty beer bottle now perched on the table in the foyer, along with many others as the two of you make your way to the makeshift dance floor in the living room.

The color changing lights flash to the beat of the music. You feel the floor vibrate beneath your boots. You can’t hide the smile on your face. Joel is a little awkward at first, unsure of what to do with his hands and in general. You guide him, taking his hands in yours and place them on your waist. You rhythmically grind your hips against his to the beat of the music.

He’s a bit stiff. “Loosen up, babe! We’ve danced together before, I know you can dance!” You shout in his ear over the blaring music. “We’ve only danced in private, darlin’, not with an audience!” You playfully roll your eyes. “Babe, everyone here is either drunk, high, or both! No one cares!” His hesitation meets his eyes, but he powers through.

Joel grabs your hips and turns you around, your ass now grinding against his clothed hard-on to the beat. You smile and throw your head back in a fit of laughter, your hand reaching around to caress the back of his head. You both sway to the beat, sweating from the alcohol and the amount of people in the house.

The song transitions into the next and you turn around in Joel’s grasp. “I’m gonna go get another drink, do you want another beer?” You shout into his ear, holding onto his wide shoulders for balance. “Sure. Thanks, baby! I’m gonna see if I can find Matt again,” he shouts back. You lean up to press a quick peck to his lips before beelining to the kitchen.

The music is still loud, but not nearly as loud as it is in the living room. The paper thin entry door to the kitchen only somewhat drowns it out. There’s only a handful of people lingering in the corner of the kitchen and near the bar.

You politely make your way to the bar, excusing yourself as you shimmy between the group. You grab a red solo cup and make yourself another rum and diet coke with a twist, opting to keep mixing liquors to a minimum.

You make your way to find Joel, cocktail in hand, when you realize you forgot his beer. Spinning around, you turn back to grab him one from the cooler. You rise to leave and bump into someone as you try to make your way back to the hallway, your drink sloshing over the side a bit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You look up and see who you’ve bumped into - a younger man, around Matt’s age, dressed as a pirate. He’s nowhere near as tall as Joel, shorter and slimmer too.

“No worries, sexy. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask,” he slurs out. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. You nervously chuckle, going to leave until your only exit is blocked by him. “Hey, where ya goin’?” He asks, offended at your attempt to leave. You tense as you feel your body go into fight or flight mode.

“I’m so sorry for bumping into you, I didn’t see you when I turned around. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say as you try to move around him. He continues to block the door. “Aw, don’t leave, baby! Is it ‘cause I didn’t say sorry back?” You give him a tight lipped smile, still struggling to get away.

“Sorry for bumping into you,” he sighs. “I didn’t realize I was that close to ya while you were bent over showing me that pretty little ass digging in the cooler.” A flash of heat washes over you, rage surging through your body. You try to size him up, swallowing down the fear, and assert yourself.

“Could you move please? I’d just like to get back to the party,” you sternly, but kindly ask him, despite him being undeserving of your kindness. He moves closer, backing you into the counter, caging you. “You here with anybody?” “Yes, my boyfriend. Now please, move,” you try to duck underneath him, but he grabs you by the waist.

“Wait, that old dude?! You serious?! I saw you two dancing, but I thought that was a joke. Come on, baby, you can do better than that old man, especially when I’m right here,” he shouts. Panic settles in as you struggle to escape his grasp.

The kitchen door swings open with Matt and Joel in tow, but unbeknownst to you with your view still blocked by this creep. “Hey, the hell’s goin’ on here?” Joel barks. The creep whips his body around and laughs. “Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. Thought she was fuckin’ with me when she told me she was here with you.”

Joel steps forward, chest heaving as he sizes up the man harassing you. “Hey, cool it, Joel. And you, Anthony, get the fuck out of here, you’re not even supposed to be here,” Matt shouts, intervening. With his back turned, you manage to escape Anthony’s grasp and you in and rush into Joel’s arms.

“You alright, baby? What happened?” Joel asks as he crushes you into his embrace, cupping your face in his hands. As you’re about to answer, Anthony cuts you off with a scoff while walking towards you two. “Nothing fucking happened! That bitch was fucking rude, she tried to leave while I was still talking to her!”

You see something you’ve never seen before flash in Joel’s eyes before he turns to Anthony - something protective, angry, primal. He fiercely places you behind him, blocking you from Anthony. “The fuck did you just call her?!” Joel’s voice booms over the music as he shoves Anthony into the kitchen island. Shoving Anthony again, Joel yells, "the fuck did you do to her?!"

“Hey, what the fuck, man?! I didn’t do shit! She’s the one who’s being fucking dramatic! All I asked was for a drink and a dance!” Seething, you find the courage to stick up for yourself.

“You know damn well that’s now what happened, you fucking jerkoff! You fucking grabbed me after I rejected your ass and tried to leave!” You shout from behind Joel. All three men are looking at you, along with the small crowd in the kitchen.

Joel shoves him again and shouts, “You fuckin’ touchin’ my girl?! The fuck’s wrong with you?!” Anthony shoves him back. “Fuck you, man! I didn’t even know she was your girl!” Joel grabs him by the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t fuckin’ matter if she’s my girl or not, you don’t go puttin’ your fuckin’ hands on women after they said no,” Joel snarls. Matt tries to pry Joel off Anthony, but it’s no use. Joel’s got a death grip on Anthony’s collar.

“Let me go, you fucking psycho. Go stick your limp dick in your whore’s loose fucking pussy!” It all happens so fast that you don’t see it, but you hear it - a resounding crunch. Anthony groans as his nose gushes blood and Matt finally yanks Joel off him. “The fuck’s wrong with you?! You fucking broke my nose! All for that bitch over there?!” Anthony quite literally spits as blood dribbles onto his lips.

Joel grabs Anthony by the collar again and shoves him to the ground, following suit to pin him down. Anthony tries to swing at Joel and misses. Joel delivers one sickening punch after another to Anthony’s face.

You stand frozen in shock as Joel delivers another punch to Anthony’s face, his lip busted open, eyes bruising. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong, but something about Joel defending you sends a rush through your body and a burning sensation to your core. None of your past partners have ever stood up for you before. Not even when you were openly harassed in front of them.

Seeing this angry, feral side of Joel has you all riled up for an entirely different reason now. You know you should stop him, but your feet are glued to the floor, unable to move and intervene.

Matt rushes to stop the fight before it escalates even more as Anthony lay there helpless on the floor, no match for the older, broader man. “Joel! Joel! Enough, man! I think he got the message,” Matt shouts over the commotion of the fight and the music, wrestling Joel off Anthony.

Jas runs in through the door at the sound of Matt yelling. She wiggles her way through the crowd that’s gathered to see the fight to your side, pulling you back from the scene. You hadn’t realized how close they'd gotten to you while fighting. She cradles you in her arms, screaming Matt’s name.

That pulls you out of your trance. Shuddering out of Jas’ grasp, you rush to the thrashing trio. “Joel!” You scream at the top of your lungs. Joel is about to deliver another punch when he hears you.

He snaps his head around and meets your gaze. You silently plead with your eyes to stop. You glance at Anthony as Joel rises to his feet. He lay on the floor groaning in pain, but that doesn’t stop Matt from forcefully getting him up and shoving him out the door.

Joel strides to you, gripping your face in his now battered hands. The two of you breathlessly lock eyes. You can hear Jas clearing out the crowd that’s gathered in the kitchen, but it sounds muffled, all your focus being on Joel.

“What the hell happened?!” Jas screeches while cleaning up the floor, a few cups and bottles were scattered on the floor in the midst of the fight, if you can even call it a fight. A few specks of blood stain the floor and that gets your attention. You grab a random rag on the counter and swiftly wipe it up as Jas continues picking things up off the floor.

“‘M sorry, Jas. Was my fault, not hers. Guy was just a prick,” Joel quietly says, guilt and shame evident in his voice. You quickly shake your head. “It wasn't your fault, Joel. That guy, Anthony, was harassing me when I came to get a drink for me and Joel. He blocked the door so I couldn’t leave. Then he grabbed me by the waist and caged me in between him and the counter and well... you can guess what happened next,” you explain to Jas, quick to justify Joel’s actions.

“Anthony?! What the hell was he doing here?! He wasn’t invited, we made that very clear to him,” Jas screeches. You and Joel give each other the same confused look. “Why wasn’t he invited, babe?” You ask Jas.

“Because he was trying to make a pass at another friend of ours the last time we hung out. He didn’t get his ass beat, but we did tell him he wasn’t invited tonight. I’m gonna fucking kill him and whoever he came with,” she explains, exasperated and angry.

“Well now I don’t feel so bad for beating the shit out of him,” Joel mutters, a humorless chuckle escapes him. “Oh, Joel, don’t feel bad. If anything, I’m sorry that he got past us. This could’ve been prevented had Matt and I been more vigilant,” Jas says, tears pricking her eyes.

“Hey. No one is to blame, but him. This is all on him, no one else. Am I clear?” You say, but both of them stay silent. “I’m okay, guys. I promise,” you firmly state.

Matt barges into the kitchen, frantically rushing to Jas’ side. “I’m so sorry he got past me, I told him last time to watch himself and that he wasn’t invi-,”

“Matt, stop,” you cut him off. “I was just telling Joel and Jas that it’s no one’s fault, but his. I’m okay, guys. I promise. Beating yourselves up isn’t gonna change what happened. I’m just grateful that you guys walked in when you did,” you tell them.

Joel huffs again. You reach for his uninjured hand. “Hey. You did good. You saved me. I’m okay, baby,” you say with a reassuring squeeze to his hand and a gentle smile on your face. Joel’s lips slightly quirk up at your expression. You glance down at his other hand and clear your throat.

“Let’s get some ice on that. You could’ve broken it, we need to clean you up,” you tell Joel, gently inspecting his battered hand. “It ain’t broken ‘n you don’t gotta do all that, baby. No need to fuss over my dumbass. I did this to myself,” Joel groans.

“Oh! Let me get you something to ice that with,” Jas says, completely ignoring what Joel said and walks to the freezer to pull out a bag of frozen vegetables.

“There’s also a first aid kit in the guest room bathroom, if you two want to freshen up in there. I understand if you two want to leave, but the space is there… if you want,” she sheepishly says. You gratefully take the make-shift ice pack she hands you and squeeze her hand in the process.

“Thank you, babe. We’ll take you up on that,” you tell her, grabbing Joel’s hand to lead him out of the kitchen. Matt and Jas follow suit. “Upstairs, down the hall, last door on the left. Take your time,” Matt says, glancing between you and Joel, clapping a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

He and Joel nod at each other. Matt looks at you, concern lacing his features as his brows knit together. You give him a sheepish smile, an unspoken “I’m okay.” He gives you the same nod, and gestures towards the stairs.

You and Joel make your way upstairs and to the guest room. Joel follows in behind you, shutting and locking the door behind you.

The music is still loud, but slightly muffled now, the need to yell gone. You pad into the bathroom to get the first aid under the sink, returning to the bedroom. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands.

“Hey,” you say, placing the first aid kit down next to him. His head snaps up and you can see the guilt in his eyes. “‘M so sorry, darlin’. I just got so fuckin’ mad. Mad that that fuckin’ prick was gonna hurt ya and mad at myself for not bein’ there sooner. Shouldn’t’ve let ya go in there alone,” he quietly says, voice barely above a whisper.

You push his legs apart a bit, making room for yourself on his lap to straddle him. You cup his face in your hands. “Hey, no. None of that, okay? I’m okay, baby. I promise. Like I said downstairs, the only person at fault here is that asshole. No one could’ve known he was gonna try anything, let alone be here. You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do. Besides, you stopped him before he really tried anything,” gently caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

He stays quiet for a moment. “‘M still sorry, darlin’. Your friends probably think ‘m some crazy fuckin’ old man.” “Joel, stop. You heard them yourself, they’re grateful you stopped him. And for the love of god, stop saying you’re old! You’re not even 50.”

You pull his head into your chest, his head pressed against your heart, basking in the silence. You pull away to press a kiss to his forehead before reaching for the first aid kit.

“Now, give me your hand. You need to ice it,” you say, reaching your hand out for his. He begrudgingly groans, slapping his large hand into yours. “I said you ain’t gotta do all that, baby. It’s fine.” “Joel Miller, stop arguing with me.” “Or what, darlin’?” You smirk, “or else, I’m not gonna suck your dick later.” His eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“‘N why’re you gonna suck my dick later? Hmm?” You unravel a piece of gauze as he ices his hand, rummaging through the first aid kit for some alcohol wipes and medical tape.

“I mean, you defended my honor. I gotta pay you back somehow, don’t I?” You tease, grinding against his clothed cock while cutting a piece of tape. He grunts at the friction. You reach for his hand, he mindlessly places it in yours with his mind preoccupied now.

“You liked me punching that guy for you, didn't you, babydoll?” Joel whispers. Your brows quirk up, smizing at him, "what would you say if I did?” He chuckles.

“I’d say you’re a dirty girl.” You pause, making eye contact with him, the muffled music vibrating the walls. Warmth blooms in your belly, traveling straight to your cunt. Your hands are shaky as you remove the makeshift ice pack from his hand and wipe his hand with an alcohol wipe. He doesn’t even wince at the sting, solely focused on you.

You clear your throat, the energy in the room shifting. “Then I guess that makes me your dirty girl,” you whisper, teasingly grinding against him again while trying to secure the gauze with medical tape. Joel growls at your words, and snatches the supplies from your hands and tosses them on the ground.

“Get on your knees,” he rasps. Your eyes go wide. “But I wasn’t d-,” you’re cut off, and suddenly your lips brush against Joel’s as he pulls you in by your hair with his battered hand. “Get on your fuckin’ knees, baby girl,” Joel says, rising to his feet and gently lifting you off his lap.

A wave of arousal pools in between your thighs. You scramble to position yourself, your dress flashing your cleavage in the process. You settle in front of his clothed cock, a visible bulge poking through the fabric of his black dress pants.

“Show me how dirty you are, baby girl. Go on, don’t get all shy on me now,” he says, eyes blown wide and black with lust. You glide your hands up his hips and grip the waistband of his pants, slowly dragging them down to reveal his twitching cock, trapped in his underwear.

Teasingly cupping his heavy, hard length in your hands, Joel groans as you slowly pull down his briefs to pool around his ankles along with his pants.

His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric, red and throbbing. Your mouth waters at the sight. “Get to it, pretty girl, or else ‘m not cumming in that pretty pussy later,” Joel taunts.

You grab his length in one hand, the weight of it making your head spin. Stroking him as you teasingly kiss along the vein that runs up his cock, making your way to the head. You run your thumb over the tip and Joel hisses at the sensation. You take only the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking on it.

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’, babydoll,” Joel growls, tugging at your hair to make you look up at him. You bat your lashes at him before diving in. Hollowing out your cheeks, you take him in slowly. He’s so big, you always have to take your time when you suck him off.

You only make it halfway down his cock before you’re gagging around him. Joel groans at the noise and the way your throat constricts around him. “Too big for you, princess?” He taunts.

“Mmm mm,” you hum, looking up at him with tears welling in your eyes. You pull back a bit, leaving a messy trail of spit on his throbbing cock. Catching your breath, you make your way down him again.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so goddamn good,” Joel grunts. You hum at his praise, the vibrations cause him to twitch in your mouth. Bracing yourself once more and steadying your breath, you bob your head.

“So fuckin’ wet ‘n warm, baby, my good fuckin’ slut suckin’ my cock so well, fuck,” Joel groans, his words going straight to your cunt, clenching around nothing.

Moaning, you slurp around him with spit dripping all over your chin and his cock, your lipstick and mascara smeared. You breathe through your nose as you take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Joel moans loudly as you hum with tears streaming down your face as you deepthroat him. “Oh, good fuckin’ girl, my perfect fuckin’ girl,” Sucking up and down on his thick, long cock, you make your way to the base once more. Your nose nudged in his wiry bush, you cup his balls in your hand and toy with them.

Joel involuntarily bucks his hips, pushing himself further down your throat. You gag around him once more, sending more tears running down your face and even more spit collecting around him and on your chin.

“Fuck! Stop, come here, baby,” Joel hisses, yanking you off him by your hair. You gasp for air as a string of spit and precum dribble from your lips, makeup completely ruined. You whine as he lifts you off your feet, desperately seeking his cock anyway you can have it.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, still need to cum in that pretty pussy,” he says, kicking his pants off his ankles while settling you on his lap, facing him again. He crashes his lips onto yours, finally after what feels like hours of not kissing him. The kiss is sloppy and ferocious, teeth clashing together, the taste of him mixed into it. Joel hungrily sucks your tongue into his mouth and swallows your moans.

He lifts the hem of your dress and pushes your lacy thong to the side, his fingers ghosting over your glistening folds. “Suckin’ my cock got you that wet, babydoll? Hm?” Nodding, you whimper as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking your slick off them. He groans at the taste of you as you whine.

“Joel,” you whine, pouting at him. “So needy, baby. Later, sweet girl,” he chuckles as he holds your hips in place and bounces you on his thigh. You cry out at the friction it creates. “Right now, I want ya to ride me like this, baby girl. Think ya can do that for me? Huh, pretty girl?”

You whimper at his words. He bounces you on his lap again, causing you to whine again. "I asked you a question," he growls. “Yes, Joel,” you hiccup. “Good girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to your chest. You slowly grind against him, your slick coating his bare thigh. The relief you’ve been seeking feels euphoric, your thong rubbing against your swollen clit with each thrust on his strong, sturdy thigh.

You grind faster against him, holding onto his broad shoulders to balance yourself. “Take what ya need, babydoll,” Joel rasps as he yanks down the front of your dress and matching lacy bra, exposing your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, your back arching into him. You let out a high-pitched moan, a new wave of slick running down your cunt and onto his thigh.

It’s slippery as you grind against him, your thrusts growing sloppy. Joel sucks your other nipple into his mouth, kneading your other breast with his bruised hand. He bites down, tugging on your nipple. Your eyes fly open, gasping as he smirks into your chest.

“Joel,” is all you manage to stutter out. He bounces you on his leg as you continuously grind on him. He groans at the sight of your breasts bouncing in his face. It’s all too much, panting as you clench around nothing as you continue to relentlessly grind your aching clit against his thigh.

“Come on, babydoll. Know you’re close, let go for me,” he says as he litters kisses all along your exposed chest. His words send you over the edge, endless moans streaming out of you as you cum all over his lap. “That’s it, babydoll. Atta girl,” he mutters as you twitch in his lap. Your breath stutters as you come down from your high.

He crashes his lips into yours, capturing them in another hungry kiss. He moans into your mouth while gathering you in his arms before tossing you on the bed. You squeal, landing on your back. Your tits bounce in the process, the both of you realizing you’re both still clothed.

“You like this dress, babydoll?” Joel asks, hovering over you, his lips ghosting over yours. “Mmhmm,” you respond, sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I’ll buy you another one,” he says, ripping the thin black dress down the middle. You gasp, shocked at his ferality.

“Joel! What’s gotten into you tonight?” You squeak as he shucks off his costume. “Tonight reminded me I could lose ya at any moment,” he mumbles hovering over you once more. You pause, frowning at his words. “You’re never gonna lose me, Joel.” He doesn’t respond, instead he silently litters kisses on your chest.

“Joel, were you jealous?” You ask, brows knitted together. He sighs, “No… just hated seein' that prick so close to ya. Hated the way he treated ya and I fuckin' hated the way these boys here kept lookin' at ya when we came in.” You twirl the curls at the nape of his neck.

“What way, Joel? And you know I don't care about any of those boys.” He presses another kiss to your jaw. You can sense the shift in his mood - that he’s still in his head about the situation. “I know, baby, I know, but I do. These fuckin’ boys ain’t got no respect for you and are always jumpin’ on ya the minute I walk away,” Joel rambles.

“Do you trust me, Joel?” You ask, cupping his face in your hands to meet his gaze. “With my life, baby. It’s them, I don’t trust. Seein’ that prick with his hands on ya… just saw fuckin’ red. Shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like them,” he mutters, tearing his gaze from yours.

“I know, Joel, but shit happens. I promise you, I’m okay, baby. At least I’ve got a big, strong man to protect me. He did a pretty good job tonight,” you playfully hum, eliciting a breathy laugh out of him. “Yeah, you think he did good?” He asks, going along with your bit. “Mhmm, seeing him fuck up that guy for me was so sexy. I knew I had to have him,” you say, biting back a toothy grin.

“He’s a lucky man, darlin’.” You smirk, playfully teasing him, “actually, I think I’m the luckiest. He’s great at eating pussy, I wish he was doing that right now. He promised me more earlier.”

Joel’s brows quirk. “Careful now, baby. You know what happens when you act like a brat now, don’t you, darlin’?” “Mhmm, that’s why I’m acting like one,” you giggle. He growls as he pulls back from you, unhooking your bra and yanking your thong and stockings down in one swift motion.

He trails kisses up and down your body, sinking his teeth into that spot right below your ear, eliciting a soft moan from you. “You’re gonna get it now, little girl,” he rasps, sending a shiver down your spine.

Nipping at your neck and pressing a kiss to your chin, he snakes his battered hand down your body, landing on your sex. He spreads your lips and gathers your slick on his fingers, sucking them into his mouth once more. “My favorite fuckin’ meal in the world, I gotta have a taste, baby,” he hums.

He swiftly crouches on his knees at the edge of the bed. You yelp as he drags you down with him to position himself in front of your pussy. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him take in the sight of your weeping cunt. His eyes are black, blown wide with lust. You feel heady, panting as the world becomes muffled just like the music playing outside the room.

Anticipation blooms in your belly as Joel presses kisses to your inner thighs and works his way up to your pussy. One kiss to your lips has you throwing your head back, moaning. Joel continues to kiss your lips and avoid your clit. Not quite giving it the attention you’re looking for. You buck your hips up into his face, seeking relief.

He pushes them back down, pinning you to the bed with his uninjured hand. “Uh uh, none of that. I’m gonna give ya what ya want, baby girl, just gotta be patient. C’mon, be a good girl for me, sweetheart,” he says between your thighs. You moan, mindlessly nodding at his words.

A soft smack is pressed to your hips. “C’mon, baby girl, lemme hear you. Use your words. Ya gonna be a good girl for me?” You lift yourself up again, eyes hooded as you look at Joel. “Yes, Joel. Gonna be your good girl,” you whine.

“Atta girl,” he rasps. No warning, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips and onto your clit. Your eyes fly open, “Joel,” you gasp. He hums as he slowly flicks your clit with his tongue. The relief is intoxicating. He laps at the new wave of slick dripping from your pussy, moaning into you. Him getting off on eating you out makes you even wetter.

He licks through folds, gathering more of your juices on his tongue. “Feels s-so, so good, baby,” you stutter. He moves to fuck his tongue in and out of you, moaning at the way you clench at the tip of his tongue as a high-pitched moan escapes you. “M-more, Joel, more!” You yelp, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

You gasp as he presses two thick fingers onto your pulsating clit, flicking it relentlessly as he fucks his tongue into your sopping core. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, Joel, fuck right there, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, eyes squeezed shut.

He groans into you, your words sending a bead of precum leaking down his cock - the vibration sends you tumbling over the edge. He laps at your cum like a starved man, wasting no drop as you ride out your orgasm.

You barely have time to register what’s happening while you come down from your high as Joel manhandles you off the mattress and into his arms again.

“Turn around,” Joel snarls, gripping you by the waist as he lifts you off him, helping you reposition yourself in his lap, his angry cock brushing against your slit.

You both hiss at the contact, your back pressed against his chest now. You rut your hips into Joel’s seeking relief. Joel tightly grasps your hips. “Did I say you could move?” His voice is husky in your ear, it sends a shockwave to your aching core.

You still. “Good girl.” You whimper at his praise. Joel brings a hand around and brushes two fingers against your lips. You suck them into your mouth.

“Mmm, such a good girl, baby. Doing what you’re supposed to without me asking,” he says. You hum around them, hollowing out your cheeks.

Joel pulls them out and you whine at the loss of contact, your frustration growing. A gasp escapes you when he swiftly presses his warm, wet fingers against your throbbing clit.

You moan loudly, involuntarily wriggling in his grasp. He presses a smack to your thigh. “Stop moving, little girl.”

Mustering all your strength to stay still, you sit atop him. His leaking, swollen head dribbling precum onto your ass as you settle in his lap, his fingers still pressed against your aching clit. “F-feels so g-good, baby,” you huff, breathless from the stimulation.

“Mmmm, yeah, pretty girl?” Joel hums. “Uh-huh,” is all you manage to say. Joel moves his fingers from your clit down to your soaked folds. “If you be good and stay still for me, baby, I'll fill you up. ‘S that what this pretty pussy needs, huh? My pretty pussy need my fingers?” You throw your head back against his chest, “yes, Joel. N-need your f-fingers,” you gasp.

Mustering all the strength in your being, you sit as still as you possibly can, awaiting your reward. Joel resumes flicking your clit as he snakes his other hand down to your dripping hole and teasingly prods his thick fingers at your entrance. “Think you’ve been a good girl, baby? Think you deserve my fingers?” He taunts, swirling circles just outside where you need him most.

“Yes, Joel, please, I need them, baby, need you,” you beg, huffing all in one breath, completely flustered from his teasing. “Such a good girl, I don’t even gotta ask you to beg,” he smirks.

He shoves two thick fingers in your aching core, gasping as he fills you up. He fucks them in and out of you, curling them with each stroke as he lightly brushes your g-spot from the angle. He has you seeing stars.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant, gasping for air as he brings you closer to your orgasm. Suddenly, he pulls them out of you and his other hand leaves your clit. Tears well in your eyes, you grow frustrated from being edged. Without warning, Joel lifts you up and settles you on his angry, throbbing cock, leaking with precum everywhere.

You gasp as his thick, leaking cock enters you in one swift motion, filling you to the brim. “Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight.” You whimper at the delicious sting of the stretch, never fully getting used to his size no matter how many times you’ve fucked.

You slowly lift yourself off his cock to adjust to his size only for Joel to slam you back down, eliciting a scream from you. Your vision goes fuzzy for a second before coming to your senses.

The pain from the sting morphs into pleasure as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock at an eager pace. Moaning with your head thrown back against his sweaty bare chest, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Atta girl, babydoll. Fuck look at you. You look so fuckin’ sexy, look at yourself. Open your eyes and look at how well you take my cock, baby,” he rasps, roughly grabbing your face in his battered hand to lift your head up to face the mirror in front of the bed.

Your eyes flutter open, looking into the mirror at where Joel pumps in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch and the sight of him fucking into you has you clenching around him.

Joel moans in your ear as you squeeze him, spurring you on to keep bouncing. He brings a hand to your chest and cups your breast, aggressively pinching your nipple.

You wail at the sensation and throw your head back, wrapping your arm around his neck to tug at the hairs at the nape. He sucks on the column of your neck, biting hard into your sensitive flesh as he toys with your nipples.

Sloppily grinding on his cock, you begin to lose your strength. “Joel, please,” you plead. “Come on, babydoll. Know ya can do better than that if you’re gonna beg for it. You did it earlier,” Joel taunts as he pulls your hair to reveal more of your neck to him, a bruise blossoming.

“Please, Joel. N-need more. Need you to, hah, need you to fuck me, please! Please fuck me, baby,” you sob, desperate tears falling down your face. “That’s better,” he rasps.

He takes over, relentlessly fucking up into you. “Fuck, Joel,” keening as he destroys your cervix. The angle has him so deliciously deep, your third orgasm quickly approaching.

“Fuck, baby, y’look so goddamn pretty bouncin’ on my cock. ‘S like you were made f’me.” He snakes a hand over your tummy, pressing down on it.

You gasp sharply at the pressure. The tight hold on your stomach and the way he’s crashing into your g-spot is too much. Your bodies stuck together with cum and sweat.

Speechless at the newfound pressure, your vision is spotty with stars, eyes rolling back so hard you go cross-eyed, a writhing mess in his vice grip. His large, calloused hands roaming your body.

“Fucked you so dumb, your fuckin’ eyes are crossed. ‘S matter, baby? Cat got your tongue? You were begging just a minute ago for more,” Joel says, smug as his nose nudges the back of your head as he nibbles on your earlobe. You mumble incoherently through your moans as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

An unfamiliar pressure rises in your belly, only feeling this sensation with Joel once while he went down on you in the beginning of your relationship. You try to muster the strength to keep your eyes open, but the pressure is overwhelming.

You’re squeezing Joel in a vice grip. “Fuck, baby! Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, you’re close. I can feel it,” he grunts, ruthlessly bucking his hips up into yours. The pressure burns white hot as he hits your g-spot with every stroke. The coil in your belly snaps, your cunt gushing all over Joel with no warning, wailing through your climax.

Joel groans in pleasure, smug and proud of himself for making you squirt. “Oh good girl, good fuckin’ girl, baby,” he drawls while fucking you through the high of your orgasm. Him following close behind, his pace growing sloppy. You can feel him twitch against your fluttering walls.

“Fill me up, Joel,” you gasp, still riding out the waves of your orgasm. “Yeah, you want my cum, baby? Look at me ‘n tell me whose pussy this is. Then, I’ll fill you up,” he taunts.

“Yours, Joel. It’s all yours. I’m yours, baby,” you slur, struggling to keep your eyes open as you watch him in the mirror. “What was that last part, sweetheart? Didn’t catch that. Who do you belong to, pretty girl?” He smirks, fighting off his own release until you say what he wants to hear.

“You, Joel,” you whine, the overstimulation setting in. “Say it again,” he growls. “You, baby, you!” You shout, and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge. He shoots his warm load into you, coating your aching walls. There’s so much, it’s leaking out onto your thighs mixing with your own release.

Joel’s breath stutters as he comes down from his high and sees how big of a mess the two of you made. His cum leaks out of you, mixing with your slick and dribbling into the puddle of your release beneath you. He reaches in between your thighs and gathers cum on his fingers.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he says huskily in your ear. He brushes his fingers against your lips. You welcome them into your mouth, too fucked out to protest. You moan at the taste of the two of you as you suck the cum clean off his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, turning your head to face him. He crashes his lips into yours in a heady kiss. Your head spins as he groans into your mouth, letting him taste the tangy, salty mixture of the two of you. You pull apart for air, the sound of muffled rock music and panting fills the air.

Your gaze meets Joel’s, a shy chuckle escaping you. “We made a huge mess,” you giggle. Joel goes beet red and breaks out into a toothy grin. “We did. ‘M sorry about your dress, darlin’. Promise I’ll buy ya another one.” You playfully roll your eyes. “It’s okay, Joel. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m gonna get out of here with no clothes,” you tell him.

“Guess I didn’t think that through. You can wear my button-up, I’ve got a work shirt in the car, darlin’,” he offers while pressing a kiss to your shoulder before lifting you off him. You both hiss at the loss. Joel sets you down on the bed, padding to the bathroom rummaging in the cabinets for something.

He returns with a damp washcloth, wiping up the mess you two made off your lower half. You hiss at the sensation when he cleans up your used cunt. “Sorry, honey,” he says while carefully cleaning you up. “It’s okay." He cleans you up in silence, padding to the bathroom to discard the washcloth while you lay back on the bed.

He joins you in bed, sighing as he settles in next to you. You wrap your arms around his middle as he rests his arm behind your neck, rubbing small circles on your arm with his finger.

"What are we gonna tell Jas?" You ask. He whips his head to look at you, the two of you staring at each other for a moment. You two burst into a fit of laughter.

"We'll figure it out together, darlin'. Like we always do," he sighs.

You stare up at him, eyes glazed over, "like we always do."

taglist: @pedrospartner @littlegrungegirlaf @morallyinept @pedrodascal @party-hearses @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @lizzie-cakes @harriedandharassed

thank y’all sm for reading! 🫶🏼

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #fic: tear you apart

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luveline · 2 months

Note

jadeee!! how are you?? I was rereading everything asf universe and I thought, as a belated weasley twin bd treat, perhaps a drabble of r and Fred at Angelina and George’s wedding and Fred realised how much he wants that for him and r?? i wanna see them get hitched soo bad!

that whole universe is sooo special to me, endless thank yous to you and your amazing brain for writing it❤️

I love you!! It’s so special to me too!!!! And I’m so grateful to you for reading!!!!! fem, 1.2k

cw mental health issues

Fred gets you in his lap, but it takes all day, and only after the speeches.

“You were very brave,” he says.

“Don’t patronise me.”

“I’m not,” he says, his arms folded around you, your side to his front so as to keep his gaze on your face. You’ve genuinely never looked so beautiful, not ever. It’s the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever worn, and you’ve smiled all day. He can’t believe it.

“Was it an okay speech?”

Fred finds your hand to hold.

I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend before I met George and Fred, you’d said, staring hard at Molly rather than the crowd, your nerves apparent in every word. I’ve never known someone to love as hard or as generously as he does. I… wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. And so it makes me so happy to see him loved like that in return. I know he’ll be a good husband, because he is a great friend, and I think that’s half the battle, and– and he tries so hard. I wish you both a happy marriage and… a great honeymoon.

George didn’t beg you to say something, but he’d begged Fred to convince you, and everyone could see how much it meant to him that you’d managed to do it in front of so many people. George had no trouble proclaiming that you were his best friend in the entire world and that he would kill anybody who ever crossed you, including his twin, if it were to come to that.

It will never come to that. Fred will never break your heart.

“I didn’t know you were going to say that much,” Fred says.

“Too much?” you ask, looking down at his chest.

“No, sweetheart, no. It was lovely. I just knew it was gonna be hard for you.”

“You talked for half an hour,” you say.

It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. “I had to embarrass him fully. That’s what getting married is for.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder. The lights in the hall are low, your seats at the main table shaded from the lights and the music. George and Angelina’s family mingle, dance, and sing quite drunkenly. It’s very normal, but you’ve had a long day. Fred’s not sure you’re up for dancing. He doesn’t mind.

“It was a lovely speech,” Fred affirms. He’d murmur if he weren’t worried you’d miss it with all the noise. “He knows public speaking isn’t for you, and it was probably a better gift for him than the DFS voucher.”

“Better than a new sofa?” you ask. “You’re joking.”

He laughs at your joking and presses a heap of kiss all over the side and top of your face. You melt under his touching, slouching into him, the curl of your smile palpable on his shoulder. He can feel it. “My mum’s coming. She’s trying to be subtle. Shall I send her away?”

“I like your mum,” you say.

She’s in a dress with huge draped sleeves, her hair piled away from her face, her lips a pale pink to suit her red hair. When she talks, Fred can see the happy tear tracks that mark her powder. “Hello, you two.”

You sit up to a slightly more respectable position, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t seen you and Fred touching. “Hi.”

“Hi, mum.”

“How are you both? There’s more champagne around the side, dearie, your father can get you another bottle if you like.” She beams at you both. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s a long day, mum,” Fred says, mildly apologetic.

“I know. Imagine how much worse it is when it’s your own.” She brushes a strand of hair from Fred’s face. “Well, alright, I’ll go bother someone else.”

“You’re not bothering us,” you say quickly.

“I know, sweetheart.” She gives you a motherly shoulder squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I’ll make sure they play a few slow songs for you to dance to. I need good photos for my wall.”

Fred laughs against the back of your head. “Thanks, mum.”

She leaves you quickly, attention snatched by Percy where he’s calling for her to come and dance, and leaves Fred in particular with an idea he’s been trying and failing to ignore all day. He knows it’s cliche, but his brother's wedding has made him think of his own, and how it will go and when it will be. If he asked you to marry him, would you say yes?

“You really do look so pretty,” he says.

“You’ve told me a couple of times,” you say shyly.

“I can’t believe it. I’m coming to terms with it.”

“Do you think we’ll get married?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, startled, and wondering for the thousandth time if you can really read his mind. “I suppose you’ll have to let me ask you first, but of course I do.”

You nod distractedly. It’s not the reaction he’d hoped for.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

Loving you is learning when to manage a crisis. Not that you’re always in crisis, but it’s an essential skill he’s obtained nonetheless. He waits for you to answer his question patiently, his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up gently to his eye level.

“Do you remember the first Christmas I came to stay with you?” you ask. “Before we were together.”

“I remember.”

“I told you that I didn’t think anyone would ever marry me. That I’m not that… sort of person.”

Fred shifts his legs under your weight. You aren’t heavy, the chairs are uncomfortable, and he plans to have you here for hours upon hours if he can swing it. “Yeah.”

“But you said you’d prove me wrong. We hadn’t even kissed.”

“And you still didn’t think I had a crush on you,” he teases.

You gather your arms to wrap behind his head, sitting taller, cwtching his face to your neck. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Ghost, I know everything about you. It makes total sense to me, believe it or not. And I will prove you wrong, I promise. If that’s what you want– it’s what I want, I just haven’t figured out how to ask you yet. Can you give me a little more time?”

You suck in a strange breath. He’d like to say it was delighted, but it’s better labelled as shocked. “Okay.”

“Thank you. We’ll have much better music.”

You turn your heads to the dance floor, where Arthur has unearthed those extra bottles of champagne Molly promised, and the Weasley troupe are dancing like an especially ginger entourage of fools to something abrasive by the Weird Sisters.

“Should we go dance?” you ask.

“In a minute. After my dads discovered that champagne isn’t regular champagne, I think.”

You shed the panic you’d been fostering to kiss his warm cheek. “Idiot, what did you do?”

“It’s his wedding, Ghost, what did you expect?”

You kiss his cheek again. A third time and he’s blushing. “Love you, Fred. Do you think George will forgive me for bending the truth?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“‘Cos I was lying, you know, when I said he’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. That’s you.”

Ugh, he thinks, dipping you backwards for a kiss. What a girl.

#a special friend universe #fred weasley x reader

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love-lilly02 · 3 months

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The Challenge pt. 5

Authors Note: this one is gonna make yall mad, i already know it. Also i think i'm gonna have to create a schedule of posting on weekends as apperently all my ideas for this story hit on fridays.

Chapter warnings:

minor character death, mentions of suicide

“You can’t do that!!”

“I can and I will.” Laswell said, closing the file. “She’s on a solo Op and that’s final.”

The boys all rolled their eyes, sighing heavily.

“Let one of us go, Las. We can’t just let her walk into the lions den-“

“Price, that’s enough. She has her assignment, you have yours.”

“But we don’t have an assignment.” Price stressed.

“Exactly.”

Another round of complaints.

You had left the room long ago, departing as soon as you had received your mission. A solo op, just an intel gathering. Get in, get the information, get out.

Get out of one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Russia.

What could go wrong?

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it.” Kyle stepped up, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t trust that she’ll be able to get out of this place. Even with her level of skill, that’s something no one’s been able to pull off without dying.”

“If you’re worried about her, you can say that you know.” Laswell said simply, raising an eyebrow.

The whole room went quiet.

“Alright, look. I don’t know what’s going on between you four and her, but get it under control. I had enough of it when you lot-“ she points to Ghost and Price-“ wanted those two-“ She points at soap and Gaz- “to join your… whatever this is. I’m not dealing with four children mooning over my best asset.”

“We are not moonin’-“ Ghost protested at the same time Price said “I thought I was your best asset?”

Laswell just rolled her eyes.

“I’ll put you boys on cam duty. How’s that?”

“It’s enough.” All the boys agreed.

You could feel their eyes on you as you adjusted your weapons for the fiftieth time. The suit they had you in was very different from the gear you normally wore, instead of cargo pants and a vest you had on a completely black bodysuit with a matching hood and shoes. Various knives and fewer guns than you would like were hidden among your body, and you kept anxiously touching them to be sure they were actually there.

You looked like the Black Widow from the Avengers. As far as you could tell, the boys thought so too, with the way they kept sizing you up.

You weren’t entirely sure if you liked that fact or not.

You knew exactly why they had chosen you instead of Ghost or Kyle for this mission- you were a lot quieter. They could think quickly and kill faster, but at the end of the day you moved around quieter, left much less noticeable tracks than they did.

This stupid challenge supported that idea.

“Keep touching ‘em and they’re gonna rust, lass.” Soap called over the comms, and you shot him a glare. For the sake of the mission- and your life- you had decided to temporarily cast aside your feelings for their last behavior, allowing them to talk to you again. Some people, like Gaz and Price, understood you would need space after what happened. Ghost and Soap, however, did not get the memo.

“She’s allowed to touch ‘em, Johnny. They’re her knives. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose knives can rust by just touching ‘em anywho.”

“Awh yea they can! I’ve seen it ‘appen me self.”

“Drop it,” Price warned.

Both boys responded with a simple, “Sorry captain,” and the helicopter was silent again.

“Okay. One more time, what are you doing?” Price couldn’t help but be nervous as your drop zone crept closer and closer.

“I get dropped off and enter through a side window, go through some rooms and get to the main center to put the information on the computer with a red chip into a flash drive.

Price nodded and ran his hand along his beard, a nervous habit you noticed he developed.

“Okay, good. The boys and I will tell you where to go and when it’s safe over comms, and-“

“Price. I’ve heard the debrief over fifteen times now. I got it.” You said, doing one more quick pat down to make sure all your knives were in order. “I trust you. Now you need to trust me.”

“Drop zone approaching!” The pilot called, and they all watched as the plane opened to reveal the darkness of the night.

“Wish me luck,” You said, pulling the hood over your head.

“Luck,” they all chorused back weakly.

And you jumped out of the plane.

Anxiety coursed through Ghosts veins as he watched you jump. A while after, thirty seconds as planned, you deployed a parachute, barely visible in the night. It was dangerous to have a black parachute in the dark but it was a risk they needed to take.

There was complete radio silence the entire time you landed. That was another rule, unless you were receiving directions or telling them something important you were to be radio silent at all times. To “make sure no one hears or picks up anything,” as Laswell said.

Ghost thought it was a load of bullshit.

Simon agreed.

Truth be told, he worried for you. Both of him did. This was something he wouldn’t be able to pull off, not even with years of training for it. And they were sending you in with less than a few hours notice?

A suicide mission.

He hadn’t asked, if this was what you wanted to do. He didn’t ask if you were okay with risking your life, possibly dying, for the “greater good.” He honestly wanted you to disagree, he wanted you to protest, say they were stupid for sending you on this mission.

But you had just listened quietly and took the file.

“At the drop zone, headed to the entrance.” Your messages were short and to the point, and he could see the others relax at your words.

“Right, stay on standby,” Ghost said, loading up the cameras.

“Copy.” Then silence.

Once he got the feed loaded he quickly scanned the cameras for you, his eyes flicking back and fourth.

“There,” Kyle said, pointing to one screen. You were kneeling behind a bunch of crates, watching the entrance carefully.

“Okay. Move left, there’s a side entrance, you might have to pick a lock or two.”

“Copy,” and you moved towards the door. They watched as you crawled, seemingly gliding across the concrete floor. Once you reached the door, it took a total of three seconds for you to slip inside.

“Door’s are locked. What’s the next move?”

“Shit, that was locked?” Soap asked, even though his comms were off.

“Suppose so. Two desks down to your right.”

And so it continued. They gave you directions and watched as you absolutely flew though the levels of the building. Till finally, you were where you needed to be.

“Okay, transferring the information.” It shouldn’t take that long, Ghost told himself. He watched as you stayed crouched behind a wall, nervously tapping on your thigh as the transfer commenced.

“Done!” They could all head the relief in your voice, even if you tried to hide it. You put the computer back where it belonged, tucking the flash drive in your pocket.

“Good job, now head out the way you came, it’s-“ Ghost stopped short when he saw two men walk into the room. They were soldiers for the enemy team, the Russian flags in the middle of their vests displaying that. To your credit, you heard the voices and stayed pointedly in place.

The two of them spoke in gruff Russian to each other, monitoring the room carefully. They were going a bit too slow, getting a bit too close for Ghost’s liking. And, based on the way Kyle was gripping his shoulder, for him too.

They kept snooping, till finally one of them jumped out into your hiding spot.

It was absolute chaos after that.

You stabbed the one who found you, using his body as a shield when the other started shooting. You fired your own shots and landed one with rough time to drop the guy you were holding and run out of the room.

By this point, multiple alarms had been tripped, and you abandoned all sense of decorum, flying down steps quickly.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yelled over comms.

Apparently that didn’t warrant a response.

The cameras he was using to track you were being taken over, and he was quickly loosing visuals.

“Mirage, do you copy?”

“Mirage, what is your position.”

“Damnit Y/N, answer me!”

But he was met with silence.

And for the first time since Las Almas, Ghost felt truly afraid.

For what it was worth, you had heard Ghost yelling over comms. And you had wanted to respond to him, but the current circumstances made that harder than you would have liked.

There were soldiers shooting at you almost constantly, and maybe about two or three snipers on other buildings. And you had about five more stories to get down, not to mention an entire parking lot- which was swarming with soldiers, you checked- and somehow get back on the evac vehicle alive.

One step at a time.

Having cleared two floors already, you burst through a nearby office, breathing out a small sigh of relief when no one occupies it. Over the comms you hear a voice saying something, but it’s Price now instead of Ghost.

“Mirage, there’s a supply drop headed your way, what’s your location?” He doesn’t sound as worried, and you can’t help but wonder where Ghost went.

“I’m hidden in an office, sir. If there was a drop there would be no way for me to reach it without being ambushed.”

You’re met with silence for a moment, before Price comes back into your ear.

“Copy that, just get to the parking lot in one piece. We’ll take it from there.”

You just roll your eyes. As if that wasn’t your plan to begin with.

The stairs seem endless as you run, down flight after flight after flight. You seriously considered taking the elevator but decided against it- they were Russian, not stupid. Once you make it to the room you entered the building through you’re throughly disappointed to find it’s occupied by a few armed guards. Nothing you couldn’t handle, so long as you went out quietly.

Carefully, you made your way behind the first one, pulling one of the longer knives out of your thigh holster. In your other hand, you slip a throwing knife, crouching silently.

It takes a good few minutes before you’re able to make a move, throwing the knife in the eye of the guard at the door before you stab the one in front of you in the neck. The other two load their guns, but you’re faster, flinging two more throwing knives across the room into their heads. You allow yourself the time to collect your knives and slip out of the door, just in time to hear more gaurds enter behind you.

Close calls that just keep getting closer.

You’re able to see the parking lot now. And as you expected, it’s absolutely swamped with enemies. There were small cracks in the defenses, however, just small enough for you to slip through if you were careful.

You stuck to the shadow of the trees, figuring darkness was your best cover. Carefully, you picked your way through the ranks of men receiving instruction, having to duck to hide behind cars multiple times. Finally, you were close enough to make a break for it and just test your luck.

And that dammed supply drop just had to show up.

Immediately, it set off widespread panic, and in the chaos one of the soldiers stumbled over to your hiding spot. Before you understood what was going on you were being hoisted up by multiple soldiers and brought into the center of a light, surrounded by angry Russians who were yelling at you in one of the few languages you couldn’t understand.

Finally, one man walked up to you and said simply, “Where is the band of coonies you work for?” He looked kind of familiar, with almost a dad bod and dark eyes to match.

“Don’t respond, that’s our target.” Price insisted, and as if he could hear him, the target looked up to your ear.

“American.” He spat out the word like a curse, and looked at you with an even nastier scowl. “A shame, you are very pretty.” He said something in Russian, and the men all raised their guns and pointed them at you.

“Wait!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the target stopped. He turned to you slowly, and raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. Carefully, you moved your hand to where the flash drive hid, pulling it out. It glinted red in the bright spotlights, and the target stopped dead in his tracks.

“What is that?” He asked, stalking closer to you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased further. God you had a bad habit of teasing men. Maybe it’s what got you into these situations.

“Give it to me,” He said, practically running at you.

“Mirage, whatever you’re about to do, don’t. Do it.” Price was yelling, and you could hear the chaos of the helicopter behind you.

“Listen to me, American girl. I will give you one chance to give me that flash drive. And maybe we will let you out alive.” The target stopped a good distance away from you, holding out his hand. You just smiled.

With a flick of your wrist, the flash drive was replaced with a pin. “Over my dead body.”

And a grenade went off- right where you were standing.

Authors Note: this is completely random but i've decided to open my inbox for requests, not just COD but across all fandoms, and i'm doing a bit of blog reorganizing so i'll get to them fairly quickly (tonight that is)

also don't hate me lol the next chapter will be out next week if all goes well

My Masterlist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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amongemeraldclouds · 3 months

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better than revenge | chapter three: from moonlight to sunrise

Can be read as a standalone, Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Chapter three summary: Flashback when you first spoke to Mattheo and he needed your help during winter break.

Warning: Blood, swearing, no use of y/n. I’m using my creative license to bend rules that may not work in the original setting (eg. apparating at Hogwarts and so on).

Author's note: If you read this as a standalone, it’s always gonna stay as sweet as it is, no exboyfriend!Mattheo plot looming about.

♡ main masterlist

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Flashback when you met me.

The moon shines brightly outside the window. I feel a yawn making its way up my throat as I head for my dorm. The place is so silent at night with most students home for the winter break.

A loud crack erupts and someone apparates ahead. What the hell? I raise my wand defensively, but then I see a figure lying on his side, cradling his stomach. I run towards him, hoping he’s not seriously hurt.

I kneel when I reach him and nearly recoil as the metallic stench of blood hits me. There’s so much blood. I close my fist to keep me in place and gently place a hand on his shoulder.

He grunts and rolls to his back, wincing in pain. I see his face and recognize Mattheo Riddle. I’ve seen him around in class and in parties, he’s the type of guy your mother would warn you about. I’ve never spoken to him before.

“Can you stand?” I ask, offering a hand and he nods. I haul him up slowly, bringing his arm around my shoulders for support. He’s heavy but we take things step by step as I walk him towards my dorm, it’s much nearer than the hospital.

I lay him down my bed and prepare a washcloth and bowl of warm water. Once I stop the bleeding and clear most of the blood on his face, I hand him a glass of water. “Thank you,” he says.

I have so many questions, but I just ask the important one. “Whoever did this to you, will they come back? Are they hunting you down?”

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guys,” he replies, sounding smug despite his bruises.

When he lays back down, I introduce myself. “You’re lucky I study healing magic, I know some spells and have potions here that can help you. You seem injured in your stomach area, would you allow me access?”

“I’m not normally like this,” he says, embarrassed. “Usually, I’d buy you dinner first,” he quips then coughs and winces.

“And that’s what you get for being a smart ass. Permission?” I try again. He nods this time and I unbutton his shirt so I can inspect his injuries. He has two broken ribs and soreness in his abdominal area but nothing further.

I cross my fingers behind me as I think of the right spells. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Mattheo interrupts my thoughts.

“Do you really have a choice?” I retort. “We can take you to Madam Pomfrey, but then you’d have a lot of questions to answer. I’m guessing it’s why you apparated here instead.”

“I meant to apparate in my room,” he tries to explain. With his injuries, I’m amazed he was able to do it at all without ripping himself to shreds in the process.

“Well, if you must know, I was the top student at my healing magic class level one and two,” I say.

“Nerd,” he says teasing.

“You’re lucky you’re already injured or I might have a go myself. Now do you want to be treated or not?”

“I’m sorry, go ahead,” he sobers and wonders why the hell he was being such a shithead.

I recall the spells again and keep my fingers crossed behind me. I’ve never actually used them before on a living, breathing human, but he doesn’t need to know that. After three tries, it works.

“I feel so much better,” Mattheo remarks, eyes brightening. It surprises me how captivating they are like stars twinkling in the night sky. I smile back at him.

“I just need to apply some potions, make sure you don’t get an infection then we’re all done.”

I beam after applying the last dose - all those classes and late nights studying paid off.

“Now get some rest and I’ll take the couch. I need to monitor you for the next couple hours and reapply some of the potions. You’ll be right as rain by tomorrow,” I say.

“I can go back to my dorm, you’ve already done enough,” he says, moving to get up.

I hold my hand out to his shoulder to stop him. “Nope, if you get up and something goes wrong, you’ll just make it difficult for me. Come on, doctor’s orders.”

He lies back down. “Fine, but the bed is big enough for the two of us,” he says tapping the side of bed for me to join him. “I’m not gonna let you take the couch. It’s not like I can move that much anyway, just don’t do anything to me,” he says playfully.

“If I had bad intentions for you, I would’ve done it already,” I say yawning, way too tired for all this.

He catches it and tamps down whatever annoying remark he was going to say. “Thank you for healing me. Come here, let’s rest,” he says in a gentle tone.

I place a pillow between us and join him after freshening up. Finally snuggled in my blanket, it doesn’t take me long to drift off to sleep.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

Mattheo wakes up just as the first rays of sunshine filters in through the window. He looks beside him at your sleeping face, wondering how anyone could be so kind to him. Let alone someone he never spoke to before.

He also wonders why you had to be so beautiful? The way the light radiates off your face gives you an angelic quality. If you were truly an angel, he wouldn’t even doubt it.

Something in his heart flutters like an animal waking from hibernation. It was far more dangerous than any of the wizards he fought off last night. In fact, he’d rather face an army of dementors than explore this feeling.

But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind it at all.

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

♡ main masterlist

A/N: For the longest time writing this series, this was my favorite chapter.

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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justagalwhowrites · 4 days

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Halcyon - Ch. 11: What Else Would It Be?

You deal with the fallout from your ex's visit as you ring in the new year with Joel, Sarah and Tommy. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 10, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^Again, we're pretending like this is Joel. Even though he's a little old to be Joel at this point but YOU KNOW WHAT? WE'RE GONNA GO WITH IT HBO I BEG YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie being dumbasses. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.1K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

Joel was kissing you.

He tasted like coffee and you could smell his soap on his skin and his hand was on your lower back, fingers twisting in your shirt as he held you close to him.

He pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss for a moment before moving to press a shorter, more familiar one to your lips. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours before looking to Gale.

“You must be the…” Joel looked him up and down. “Ex-husband. Gus, is it?”

Gale’s jaw quirked, looking between you and Joel.

“Gale,” he corrected. “And I’m still the husband. At least for now.”

“Ahh, right, right,” Joel nodded, tugging you against his side with a sharp little yank. “That paperwork you keep draggin’ your feet on. Can’t say I blame you, I wouldn’t want to let this one go, either, if I were able to lock her down…”

“Wouldn’t call it dragging my feet…”

Joel released you then, stepping closer to Gale. You’d never realized how much taller than him Joel was, the younger man at least three or four inches larger than the older.

“What would you call it, then?” Joel asked. “I might call it tormenting your wife because you can’t stand the fact that she’s got a life outside you after you fucked it up. But that’s me, ain’t it Georgie?”

“Don’t think what happens in my marriage is much of your business,” Gale’s voice was heated, his back a little straighter. “Don’t think I caught your name. Or who you are to my wife.”

“Me?” Joel asked. “Oh, I’m just the one who’s been lookin’ out for her while you take out your problems on her. Don’t worry, though. She’s doing just fine with me.”

Gale looked at you and you snapped your mouth shut, only then realizing that it was hanging open.

“Think I’ll head on out, darling,” he said, ducking around Joel go come and stand close to you, so close you were almost touching. Your heart stuttered and you hated it. “Seems like you might have your hands full.”

He slipped an arm around your waist, making you jump a little, and pulled you close, looking at you like he was going to kiss you the way he used to for a moment. Instead, his lips brushed your cheek, his nose tracing over your temple as he pulled back from you.

“Let me know when you’re back home,” he said. “And think about what I said.”

He released you and Joel took his place beside you, pulling you into him as he watched Gale leave.

“Don’t let that door hit you on the way out,” Joel called after him, holding you tight to his side so you couldn’t follow. His grip on you loosened when the two of you heard the car door slam. “Gonna give it a minute so he has a chance to get outta here but I did come bearing ice cream…”

“Ice cream,” you turned to look at him, incredulous, your heart still racing from when he’d kissed you. “That’s what you’re worried about right now. Ice cream.”

He shrugged.

“I mean, it’s melting…”

“Jesus Christ,” you stalked off to the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gale’s car leaving from the small window as you leaned over the sink.

“What?” He followed behind you. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re all worked up over that…”

Gale’s sleek, black rental car pulled onto the road, throwing dirt up behind it as it went.

“Sorry if I fucked up whatever plans you had with that asshole,” Joel said, his voice a little heated. “But he’s a jackass and if you want to actually cross some of that shit off your list, you can’t just backslide into fucking your ex…”

You just sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes for a moment. Of course that was the part he was worried about.

Not that you weren’t, too. It had just fallen much further down your list of concerns since Joel had kissed you.

You hadn’t expected Joel to show up any more than you’d expected Gale to.

When you hung up with Joel, a smile spread over Gale’s face and he looked happy to see you. Actually happy to see you, like seeing you was making his whole day.

You couldn’t remember the last time he looked at you like that.

“Are you going to invite me in?” He’d asked, brows raised.

It took you a moment to register that he’d spoken.

“Sorry, yes, sure,” you said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He smiled a little and came inside your cabin, looking around with an appreciative nod.

“You always did like your quiet spaces when you were writing,” he said, making his way into your living room. “I remember when you were working on Halcyon, how you’d sometimes sit at the back of the closet, lights out, with just your laptop…”

“It kept you from distracting me,” you smiled a little at the memory, that time seeming so close but so far away. “Speaking of which… what are you doing here?”

“Distracting you,” he threw a small smile over his shoulder to you. You rolled your eyes but smiled a little back in spite of yourself. “I meant it when I said I missed you. My life’s been…” he paused for a moment. “Dim without you.”

“Says volumes about Carla’s sparkling wit,” you said wryly, feeling bad almost the second it was out of your mouth. She was young, naive. She didn’t deserve you mocking her when she couldn’t even defend herself.

But Gale laughed once.

“I can’t say anyone’s ever put me through my paces quite like you, doll,” he said. “I didn’t know how I’d miss being challenged until I wasn’t anymore.”

“You never liked when I challenged you,” you said.

“No,” he nodded. “But, turns out… I like being blindly adored even less.”

You scoffed at that.

“I mean it,” he said, stepping close to you, close enough that you could smell is cologne. “Turns out, I need someone like you. Someone who can see me, see my flaws, challenge me, push me to be my best. I need someone who is smart and, believe it or not, intelligence isn’t the prerequisite for ivy league admittance you’d think it is. You’re one of the only people I know who is smart enough to keep me on my toes.”

He reached out, brushing some unseen dust from your shoulder and then trailing his fingers over your neck.

“I need you,” he said, so close to you now that you felt the familiar tug at the base of your chest, the way he’d always pulled you into his orbit. How you’d wanted to kiss him so badly in his office when you’d been young and desperately lonely and he seemed to understand you through your words the way no one had before. How you wanted to kiss him now because you hadn’t been kissed in so long.

You swallowed, hard.

“Tea?” You said quickly before you did something you’d regret later. You turned to head to the kitchen before he could respond. “I was just about to make myself a cup…”

You could practically hear him smirk.

“Sure,” he said. “You always did love your tea.”

You made his tea just the way he liked it, Earl Grey with a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, placing it in front of the seat he’d taken at the table. You sat across from him, hoping that some distance would help, trying to focus on the flavor of the tea you’d chosen - ginger peach - and the thick sweetness of honey on your tongue.

“So,” Gale said after a moment, setting his mug in front of him and crossing his arms on the tabletop. “Tell me about this book.”

You considered not talking to him about it for a moment. Writing had always felt so intimate to you, sharing it in any form while it was in process was mortifying. Gale had been the only person you’d ever been able to bear looking at your work before it was done and he’d always made it better. But he was nothing to you now, just a man who said he loved you once.

Who was making it sound like he might love you again. How could you share this story with him? How could you not?

“Well,” you sighed before you felt like you’d really made up your mind. “It’s about a marriage…”

Gale drifted closer to you as you walked him through the story, how it had already changed over the few days you’d been working on the thing, where you wanted it to go. Before too long, he was beside you, his fingers trailing over your bicep to your elbow and back again.

“I really have missed that mind of yours,” he said when you trailed off. His eyes were hungry on you, his body warm next to your own and, for half a moment, you wanted to kiss him and feel him against you and remember what it was to be desired for a while.

But when he leaned toward you, something inside you shifted.

Yes, you were lonely. Not in the same way you’d been lonely when you’d gone away to college and met Gale the first time - you had Joel now, after all - but lonely in a way that you were acutely aware that you were no one’s and no one was yours. You knew that, before too long, Joel would cross “stable relationship” off his list and you couldn’t just show up at his house and climb in his bed so you weren’t crying into your pillowcase in the dark when things went wrong. He would have his hands full with whoever he decided to actually stick with and Sarah. Anna would have her new baby. You’d be on your own. It was inevitable, the sword of Damocles waiting for love to take the people you cared for most on to their own lives that had little to do with you. Gale had been the only person who had ever, truly, been yours. Falling back into him was tempting for that reason alone but… He wasn’t who you wanted.

You’d never tried to love your husband when Joel was near. You should have known that your feelings for Joel would drown out everything else, that you’d never have a hope of wanting someone else when he was there. And, as Gale leaned in to kiss you, all you could think was that he smelled wrong.

He smelled like cologne and leather and something artificial that you couldn’t place. You’d liked that smell once. Now, it fell short. You wanted sawdust and soap with hints of sweat and chlorine. You wanted Joel.

But… Gale was still someone. And someone was better than no one.

“Gale…” you said softly.

And then there was the knock at your door and then Joel was there, kissing you like it was nothing and picking a fight with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“I wasn’t planning on getting back together with him,” you said, turning to face Joel, your back against the sink and your fingers gripping the counter as you tried to think about something - anything - beyond how he’d tasted when he’d kissed you. How his hair would feel between your fingers as you pulled him closer.

“Good,” Joel said, standing opposite you in the galley kitchen, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms as he did. “Because that man is nothing but bad for you, Goldie.”

You rolled your eyes.

“What?” He asked, incredulous. “I mean it…”

“You didn’t know me when we were actually together,” you said. “We were actually a really great couple…”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure you two had a ton in fuckin’ common…”

“We did!” You protested. “I know you hate him on principle and I’m not about to ask you to stop but he’s really not a bad guy. I just… I couldn’t make it work.”

Joel squared his jaw, looking like he wanted to fight you about it, but instead, he just sighed.

“He gone?” He nodded to the window. You nodded once. “Good. I’ll go get the shit from the truck, back in a sec…”

When you heard the front door close, your fingers traced your lips, ghosting over where Joel had kissed you as you tried to shake the longing in your chest before your best friend came back inside.

***

“OK but it’s just one glass,” Sarah rolled her eyes at Joel from across the hot tub.

“And you’re 11,” Joel said.

“But it’s New Year’s Eve!” She protested, treading water lightly even though it was so shallow she could barely go all the way under at all.

“And you’re still 11,” Joel said. “You don’t need to have a glass of champagne.”

“No one needs a glass of champagne,” she rolled her eyes again.

“I might if I have to listen to you two fight anymore,” Tommy said.

“Amen,” you replied, reaching across the hot tub with your beer bottle to toast him. Tommy reached back with his own and the two of you met in the middle, glass clinking together.

“See, Goldie,” Tommy said. “Been saying I need someone else around to survive these two…”

“Please,” Sarah scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I knew how to make breakfast before you did. I think you need us to survive, not the other way around.”

You laughed and Joel watched you do it, trying not think too much about your lips and how they’d felt against him. As if he’d been able to stop thinking about that since he’d kissed you.

“It don’t matter who needs what,” Joel said. “You’re 11, you’re not drinkin’ alcohol. You can have that entire bottle of sparkling cider…”

“But what if I wanted a glass?” You asked, pouting a little.

“Fine,” Joel sighed, knowing you were just making things difficult but too happy to humor you to call you on it. “You can have almost the entire bottle of sparkling cider. You can’t have champagne.”

“You’re no fun,” Sarah slumped back, face scrunched, as the bubbles got the ends of her curls wet.

“That’s what they call me,” Joel said. “No fun Dad.”

“At least he lets you stay up until midnight,” you said, taking another sip of beer. “I didn’t get to do that until I was a teenager.”

“See?” Joel nudged Sarah with his foot. “I could be worse.”

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically before closing her eyes and resting her head back against the hot tub.

You just looked at Joel and smiled a little and Joel tried to keep his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage that sat just below the water. Because he had to stop thinking about you that way. He had to.

He couldn’t have been more grateful for his brother and daughter’s arrival earlier that day. He’d pulled Tommy aside as soon as he showed Sarah her room and gave her a minute to get settled, pulling him onto the back patio where they’d have some privacy.

“What the hell…”

“I kissed Goldie,” Joel hissed, looking furtively back toward the house before looking at Tommy.

“Wait what?” Tommy yelped and Joel was ready to strangle him.

“Shh!”

“Sorry!” Tommy whispered. “You did what? You kissed Goldie?”

“Yeah,” Joel whispered back.

“When?”

“Yesterday, when I first got here…”

“And all the time since, right?”

Joel glared at his brother.

“What?” Tommy said. “Reasonable question…”

“Fuck off,” Joel said. “I can’t do this again, Tommy, I can’t lose her again because I wasn’t able to… Look. This can’t happen again, OK?”

“OK,” Tommy said, voice calm. “So don’t do it again, seems easy enough…”

“It’s not that simple,” Joel said. Tommy just raised his eyebrows at him and Joel sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about it, man. I kissed her. I kissed her…”

“It was just a kiss though, right?” Tommy said. “Not like you two fucked.”

“No…”

“So?” Tommy shrugged again. “It was a kiss. What are you, 12? It’s not the end of the world, man. So you fucked up, you kissed your best friend, shit happens…”

“And it can’t happen again,” Joel said.

“So don’t do it again. I can be a buffer if that’s what you need,” Tommy said. “But it’s just a kiss. Hate to say it but… grow a pair, man.”

“Right,” Joel nodded slowly. He knew you weren’t overthinking this like he was, he knew it wouldn’t have meant anything to you and he needed to keep just playing it cool and pretending like he could think about anything else. “I just… you’re right. It was a mistake, it won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…”

The door to the porch creaked, making Joel jump.

“Hey guys?” You were standing there, looking between the two of them. “You up for a game of Mario Kart? Sarah’s getting the Switch set up…”

“Yeah,” Joel forced a smile. “Be right there.”

Joel sat on the opposite end of the couch from you, Tommy stuck in the middle and Sarah on the floor as the four of you played.

He’d been straining to keep his distance from you since he got here. He shouldn’t have fucking kissed you. That was a mistake, the kind that could wreck his life if he wasn’t careful. What if you just took off again because he couldn’t keep his shit together? What if he had to find a way to excise you from his life again?

That had been hard enough when you were both kids, it would be impossible now. It had only been a few short months but already he wasn’t sure how he’d survived without you. You were a fixture in his world now, the absence of you for all those years more acute now that he knew what he’d been missing that whole time. You could have been there with him if he’d just acted like a fucking adult and had some self control on prom night but he didn’t. Instead, he’d been a dumbass and he’d paid the price for that for years. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

But you were here, so close, close enough that he could touch you and hear you and fucking smell you.

And he was sure that the plan had been for the two of you to share a room at the cabin. Why wouldn’t you? You shared one at home all the time, Joel sleeping so much more soundly when he could feel you settling into him as you drifted off. When you fell asleep, he always nuzzled into the top of your head as you used his chest as a pillow, taking advantage of the fact that you were unconscious to breathe you in and commit you to memory. He usually woke up curled around your back, your arms stretched far in front of you and your legs tangled in the sheets, nestled into your pillow instead of his skin. The nights you weren’t there, he pulled that pillow from your side of the bed close and held it like he wanted to hold onto you and tried to pretend it wasn’t the most fucking pathetic thing he’d ever done.

The night after he’d kissed you, the two of you had slept in separate beds. That alone was almost enough to make him regret it.

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do when he saw you there in the grip of that asshole you’d been married to? That guy who’d been dragging you through divorce proceedings so roughly that you’d come over and just cried into Joel’s shoulder twice since you’d moved back. That guy who didn’t seem like he was content unless you were under his control.

He was the kind of man who wouldn’t respect that you just said no. But he might respect another man’s claim so he’d kissed you. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Or that’s what he told himself it was. That it wasn’t a selfish excuse to do the one thing he’d been wanting to do for fucking weeks.

Tommy and Sarah being here made it easier to stay away from you, at least. While the two of you had long since stopped acting like you didn’t share a room when you slept over, he had done his best to maintain some semblance of boundaries with you in front of Sarah. Fewer casual touches, no just holding you close because you were near him on the couch and he knew you wouldn’t mind. He didn’t want to confuse his daughter and make her think there was more to this than there was. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to find a reason to keep his distance. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to lie to himself and pretend that he wasn’t fighting to keep from kissing you again.

He’d thought, at first, that he’d at least been able to dodge talking about it. That he’d played it cool enough that he’d thought the reasoning was obvious. But, once you were done angrily texting your agent to demand how Gale had gotten this address to begin with and had a few glasses of wine in you after dinner, you sat on the opposite end of the couch from Joel, a bowl of pecan praline ice cream balanced on your knees as you watched him closely.

“What?” He asked, raising his brows at you.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Kiss me.”

You said it so plainly, as though you were asking why he ordered spaghetti at dinner or why he painted his living room sage green.

“I know you think I hate your ex for no reason,” he said. “But I have a reason. I’ve seen how he’s been hurting you. Didn’t want him to think you were just his for the taking so…”

He shrugged.

“And that’s…” you paused for a moment, glancing to the side before looking back at him. “That’s the only reason?”

His heart sped up.

“Course it is,” he said, looking back at the movie you’d put on that he hadn’t been paying any damn attention to before, either. “What else would it be?”

“Right,” you’d said. “You’re right.”

Tommy and Sarah being there was a mercy. It saved him from more of those conversations.

Even if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.

“We should think about heading inside,” you said, glancing at your phone. “It’s only an hour to midnight, figure we’d like to all be nice and dry by the time the countdown starts.”

“Yeah, my first champagne toast should really be done in dry clothes,” Sarah said sagely.

“No champagne,” Joel said. “But yes, dry clothes. Let’s go, kiddo.”

She groaned and you and Tommy laughed and at least Joel could take comfort in the fact that he’d figured out this part of his life. He could do this, if he really focused on it. He could just take care of his daughter and just be friends with you and just keep an eye on his little brother. He didn’t need to be anything more to you. He could live with that.

If that’s what it took to keep you in his life at all? He could really, really live with that.

The four of you made your way inside and got changed into pajamas before gathering around the TV to watch people partying around the country, the adults starting in on the champagne and Sarah sipping her cider with her pinky extended.

“So,” you said. “What’s everyone excited for in 2023?”

“Taylor Swift,” Sarah said automatically.

You laughed.

“Alright, maybe that was too easy,” you said. “What’s everyone thankful for going into 2023?”

“Still Taylor Swift,” Sarah said and you laughed again. “But really… probably getting to play soccer and stuff with my best friends. And Swiftie. She’s the best cat in the world.”

“Those are good,” you nodded, looking to Tommy. “You?”

“I’m thankful there are still women in Austin willing to go on dates with me,” Tommy said. Joel snorted and Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. “What about you, Goldie?”

“I’m thankful that I’m someplace I can put down some roots again,” you said. “And that I won’t need to up and move in 2023.” You turned toward Joel, your head cocked and a soft smile on your face and he could remember how you tasted a little like honey when he kissed you. “Joel?”

“Thankful for Sarah, of course,” he said. Sarah rolled her eyes. “What, baby girl? I am.”

“Something besides me,” she said. “We all know I’m a gift…”

“Christ your teenage years are gonna be rough with that ego,” Joel sighed and Sarah laughed. “But… I dunno… probably just having Goldie back in Texas. Hasn’t been the same without her here.”

“Joel,” you looked at him, a little misty eyed. “Really?”

“Course,” he smiled a little. “I missed you, Goldie Girl.”

You smiled back.

“I missed you, too.”

“The countdown is up!” Sarah jumped to her feet and pointed at the icon in the corner. “Just a minute left!”

The adults all got to their feet and pressed closer to the TV screen, watching as the numbers got lower and lower and the year that you’d come back to Joel grew closer and closer to being in the past.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The four of you cheered and hugged and toasted and drank and Sarah pressed herself against Joel’s side, giving him a squeeze.

“Love you, Dad,” she said quietly.

“Love you, too, Kiddo,” he said, kissing the crown of her head and squeezing her back.

She pulled away from him to go hug Tommy and Joel looked to you, finding you watching the screen with your eyes rimmed in tears, champagne glass half empty in your grip. You didn’t seem to notice that Joel was watching you, downing the rest of your drink in one go before setting the glass down on the coffee table and heading for the back door.

Joel glanced back at Sarah and Tommy, a frown on his brother’s face but his daughter seemingly oblivious to the fact that you’d just left. Joel jerked his head toward the door and Tommy gave him a single nod as Joel followed you into the backyard.

He didn’t see you at first. You weren’t on the patio or the deck and then, in the glow of a firework that someone set off from across the lake behind the cabin, he saw you, staring out from the water’s edge.

He went over to you and you didn’t seem to notice him, frozen as you looked at the lake.

“Goldie?” Joel asked as he got close, not wanting to spook you. You jumped anyway. “Sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.”

“It’s OK,” you said, smiling tightly at him as he took his place at your side. “I’m just jumpy, apparently.”

“You alright?” He asked, standing close enough to you that he could feel the warmth of you. “You kinda blew outta there and it’s cold out here…”

“I’m fine,” you said, looking back out at the water. “Just… needed some air.”

“Air,” Joel said, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. Another firework cracked over the lake, the sparks of it reflected on the water. “You sure that’s it?”

You looked over at him again, your arms crossed tightly in front of you. Another firework and he could see the fog of your breath in front of your lips.

“Partially,” you smiled a little again before looking back to the water and taking a deep breath. “But… it’s also that this is the second year that I’m alone on New Year’s Eve. Second year I’m starting things off on my own. Second year I can’t even find some random guy to kiss me at a party…”

“You’re not alone,” Joel said gently. “You’ve got me n’Sarah…”

“It’s not the same,” you said. “But the thought is sweet, though.”

“It’s not like last year,” he said. “It’s going to be different…”

“Because things are going to magically get better?” You asked, turning to face him, your brows raised. “Because you’re going to just invent someone who’s going to actually want me so you can help me cross off my check list?”

“Goldie…” You winced, closing your eyes tightly for a moment and taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you waved him off. “None of this is your fault, I don’t know why I’m taking it out on you, it’s not fair to you. You’re right, it is different now and I’m so thankful I have you and Sarah and even Tommy. I just… I wish I had someone who wanted to kiss me at midnight, you know?”

Joel’s throat was dry, so dry that he couldn’t seem to form the words he so desperately wanted to say.

“Sorry,” you said again. “We should get back before Sarah notices…”

You turned to go, dropping your arms and heading back up the short hill toward the cabin but Joel caught your wrist, pulling you back toward him. You frowned a little, facing him and looking between where he was holding you and his face.

“I know it’s not what you want it to be,” he said, reaching out slowly to gently cup your cheek. “But… I think friends can kiss for New Year’s, right?”

“Right,” you said, a little breathless, your eyes wide. “Friends.”

“Right,” Joel whispered back, dropping your wrist to wrap his arm around your back and pull you against him, making your back arch as you pressed your body into his. “Friends.”

His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to object or to push him away, but you didn’t. Instead, he got closer and closer to you, until his eyes were closed and his lips were against yours and, for the second time in as many days, he kissed you.

For the second time in as many days, he didn’t want to stop.

A/N: I mean I think we all knew I wasn't going to let them get together so soon, right?

Right??

OK, cool.

But I promise, this is going to have repercussions very, very soon in this fic. I love these two and their push pull and I'm so sorry but I'm going to torment you all with it, too. OK?

Thanks for being here! Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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writemekpop · 11 months

Text

Hot and Bothered | Huang Renjun

Summary: Normally, you and Renjun can't keep your hands off each other. But tonight, he's acting strange...

Genre: Established relationship AU, boyfriend! Renjun, fluff

Word Count: 0.5k

You and Renjun piled through the door of your apartment. You were both sweaty from clubbing all night.

Renjun’s chestnut hair was sticking out in all directions, and his shirt was half open, exposing firm brown abs. You had a sparkly pink flower garland around your neck.

Renjun collapsed on the bed, limbs spread everywhere. His skin gleamed with sweat.

You caught sight of his delicious muscles. Suddenly, you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

You crawled onto the bed, straddling him, and kissed him feverishly. Renjun began kissing you back, with just as much passion, intertwining his fingers in your hair – but then he stopped.

Renjun pulled away, rolling to one side and rubbing one arm. “Actually, I’m, uh- kind of tired,” he said.

Only, from the way he wouldn’t meet your eye, you had a feeling it was something more.

“Are you sure?” You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re the one who said that 2AM is early.”

Renjun quickly glanced at you, then looked away. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Renjun flicked off the lamp. Then he crawled under the duvet and turned away from you. You could just make out the slender curve of Renjun’s shoulders in the moonlight.

Renjun’s rejection stung like a slap. Why was he not into you? Was it because your hair was a mess and your make up was smudged? You frowned.

Renjun buried his head in his hands, groaning. “You’re gonna laugh at me!”

Placing a tentative hand on Renjun’s shoulder, you said. “Junnie, you can talk to me. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said. “I’m… afraid that I… don’t smell the best.”

“I’m not,” you promised.

Renjun roared. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

A startled laugh left your lips. “That’s all?” You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Renjun wasn’t judging you, he was insecure about himself!

“I’m not laughing at you, I just can’t believe you’d even think about that!”

You squeezed Renjun in your arms. The scent of his sweat was magic to you – sweet, salty and utterly Renjun.

“Your smell… is the sexiest thing about you,” you said. “And anyway, I would kiss you even if you were covered in mud, you hadn’t showered in three weeks-“

“I get the point!” Renjun said. He peeked at you, and you both started laughing.

As you calmed down, you realised that Renjun was staring at you with that serious yet playful look you knew meant he was turned on.

“So, my sweat’s sexy, huh?” Renjun murmured.

He leaned in and kissed you so deeply that you realised that before, he had been holding back. You were stunned. The kiss made you dizzy.

“Do that again,” you said as soon as you could breathe again.

Renjun grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop until we work up a sweat again.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

566 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 6 months

Text

Roomies 5

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader | 2.2K - Previous

*This series will/does contain smut, angst, and fluff. Each chapter will have its own warnings for any potential triggering contents.

Chapter Summary - We are spiraling. Eddie is a rock. A shared best friend is in town for a visit. We've got some angst and bad behavior by our reader. The next chapter will feature more time with the shared best friend, and some important air clearing.

---

“Do not -” Eddie’s hand is on your reaching hand pinching the head of the arm on the record player that’s currently playing Black Sabbath. You’re not a fan, but you know the sound of Ozzy’s voice from the many years of friendship with Eddie. “- make me listen to your shitty music tonight. I’d rather sit in silence.”

“Don’t be a dick, Munson. Bikini Kill isn’t shitty. You’re just used to listening to that male chauvinistic garbage. You’re brainwashed into hating the girl bands fighting against that way of thinking.” The dig shouldn’t have much sting, it’s one you use a lot. It can be tiring defending your musical tastes all the time, and you know Eddie understands that.

His response isn’t the normal finger flick to your forehead, though. His face drops, and he lets go of your hand. “Uh, fine. Put it on if you want.” He turns to head back to the kitchen where the boxes of Chinese food are set up on the counter. No fight. He caved, he didn’t set you straight. He didn’t explain that his reasons for not liking the punk riot grrrl bands has nothing to do with their message, which he agrees with. He just lets you win.

Instead of Bikini Kill’s Demi Rep, you reach for Alice in Chains’ Dirt. Neutral ground. Sliding the disc from its sleeve, you wonder what new mines you might find hiding under the field of your friendship now. What else has changed without you realizing it. You wonder if every single interaction will be like this until eventually you’re both too exhausted to deal with it. And then what? You know what. And then it all fades away.

“So,” you approach Eddie from behind, hands clasped behind your back as if in private prayer, “what treats did you procure from Main Moon this fine evening?” You rest your chin on his arm, sneaking a peek at the inside of the containers as he opens them. “Oooooohhhh, you got spare ribs!”

Eddie laughs and mutters, “can’t disappoint my best girl, can I? Not when she gets that sauce all over her face every time she eats them.” You don’t see it coming before it’s too late. An arm wraps around your neck, and you're in a headlock you can’t twist yourself out of. He caught you off guard in a vulnerable moment, and now Eddie’s got sauce on his finger ready to spread it on your nose.

“Eddie, let me go!” You flail, but Eddie’s bicep remains firm, holding you against his side.

“Oh, Angel, we’re just getting a head start on the mess you’re gonna make.” Eddie’s laughing while his finger makes a meandering journey from the tip of your nose to your forehead. He even managed to get some on the inside of your left nostril. He releases you, grabbing your arm before you stumble too far and fall, and stands back to admire his handiwork. “Oh, you’re looking very beautiful. You should let me do your makeup more often.”

“You idiot,” you try and fail to keep laughter out of your voice, “I’m not eating the rib you just finger fucked. That one’s yours, Buddy.”

—

It was that takeout dinner, shared on the couch in your shared living room, that took the edge off. Eddie set the tone. The doubts started to calm. The looks between the two of you might last too long, there might be more excuses made to touch, but the fear that the end of your friendship had arrived dissipated. The routine set in. It was a relief.

When Friday night rolls around, you’re ready for a break. Three days off in a row. A miracle worthy of celebration. Convenient that your favorite spot happens to be below your apartment, and that you’re friends with the bartender. Heavy pours and free booze, and a short commute home. Ronnie’s in town for the weekend, the missing piece in your friendship with Eddie. The third Musketeer.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Ronnie is close to your vanity’s mirror with a black eye pencil skating across her lower waterline, “he’s gonna shit his pants.”

“I’m just happy he’s got the rest of the weekend off. I thought I might have to spill the beans to get him to do it.” You’re rifling through your bag of lipsticks looking for the burgundy that’s your favorite. “He’s probably going to fucking murder me when he realizes I’ve been keeping your trip a secret.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him.” Ronnie fluffs her hair a little and adjusts the waist of her jeans, “last time he was supposed to go east to see me, he was neck deep in that waitress. Remember her? The one with the huge tracts of land?”

“How could I forget? She was the reason I didn’t see Eddie for 3 months. I thought he was gonna marry her or something stupid like that.” You laugh a little, ignoring the way your mind tries to compare yourself with the girl that Eddie was obsessed with only 6 months ago.

“What are we dealing with now? Any ladies I need to fight for his attention? He never tells me shit about his love life, but I definitely got the feeling the last time we talked that there was someone.”

You laugh, and hope that Ronnie doesn’t look too closely at the way your smile sits strangely on your lips, “I don’t know. Where Eddie decides to stick his dick is really not something I think about a whole lot. But I haven’t seen any evidence of a girl in the apartment.”

Ronnie looks at you with her head cocked and says, “Except for you, of course.”

“Oh, sure. Except for me. We both know I don’t count.”

—

Garland wrapped in Christmas lights runs along the outside counter of the bar. You’re happy to find most of the booths and barstools empty. You were worried that Eddie might be too busy to enjoy the presence of Ronnie when he’s trying to work. It really feels festive, you can smell a hint of cinnamon in the air and wonder if it’s the Christmas ale that they have on tap this time of year. And there’s Eddie, standing in the corner with a Santa hat sitting crooked on his head, and a tall blonde tugging on the end of his hair with a wide grin on her face.

“Who’s that?” You’ve forgotten that Ronnie is behind you for a second and you jump at the sound of her voice, “they look friendly.”

“I have no idea. Maybe she’s the new bartender,” your voice is quiet, afraid to draw his attention to you. You consider turning on your heel and heading back upstairs, but can’t with Ronnie here. “Let’s, uh, let’s go say hi.”

Eddie turns and catches sight of Ronnie, his oldest friend. His closest friend, next to you. Like a shot, he pushes past the blonde woman standing next to him to bring her into a big bear hug. They’re rocking back and forth and Eddie’s sparkling eyes are shining on you. He mouths, you’re dead, and then kisses Ronnie on the top of her head.

He hugs you next, holding you tight in his arms. It’s something that he hasn’t done in recent days, a familiar thing that reminds you that this is Eddie. Your Eddie. The smell of smoke and Old Spice and the feel of his stubble on your forehead make you forget the way only moments ago you were full of dread. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell you she was coming.”

“She wanted it to be a surprise. She’s been missing you.” you say into his chest, not wanting to break apart from his embrace just yet. You’ve been missing him too, despite the fact that you see him every single day. Eddie pulls away and puts an arm around both you and Ronnie.

“Consider me surprised. I can get out of here early, maybe. It’s dead, and Laney can close up.” Eddie turns his head to call back to the girl that’s made her way back behind the bar, “what do you think? You think you can handle closing alone?”

“Sure, Eddie.” She smiles at him, and turns to the old man sitting at the end of the bar. She rests her elbows on the bar, hip jutted to the side and you catch a glimpse of a line of red fabric - a thong - poking out from the hem of her jeans.

“Laney, huh? She looks like she’s got some talents.” Ronnie shrugs out from under Eddie’s arm and sidles up to a bar stool. You look up and see Eddie averting his eyes from the ample derriere of the bartender in question. You can see his cheeks darken under the Christmas lights.

“She’s an excellent bartender, and we’re lucky to have her. Shut up, and maybe I’ll get the two of you some free drinks.”

—-

Shots on shots on shots. Round 3, and the feeling that this is a mistake has already started to pass. Now it’s just fun. It’s warm. You’re loose. Fear is a distant memory, and your lips move without the barrier of common sense. Eddie’s red rimmed eyes are on the girl behind the bar, again. It’s not in your head, because you see Ronnie shaking her head on the other side of him.

“One more round for me and my friends, Baby.” Eddie’s low voice hums through his chest, and you see the way his thumb runs across the back of Laney’s hand when he passes her a $20.

“No problem, Eddie.” She answers back, and her tongue flicks against her lips before she turns towards the cash register.

“Subtle.” You bite your words into the moment, causing both friends next to you to turn their attention to you. “Don’t let us stop you. You’ve been eye fucking each other all night. Might as well get it out of your system so you can maybe pay attention to Ronnie for more than 10 seconds.”

“Hey now,” Ronnie reaches around behind Eddie, “we’re good.” She’s squeezing your forearm in an attempt to ground you before things escalate.

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve been rude all night for no reason.” Ronnie’s arm drops at Eddie’s words.

“You’re rude, Eddie. I can’t do this.” The room has started to tilt, and you can feel the words tangling in your head. “I’m going for a walk. Have fun.” You lean over the bar and shout in the direction of the bartender, “Good night, Laney. I hope you and Eddie are very fucking happy together.”

The humiliation rises inside you like a tsunami as you stumble over your feet and down the steps outside of the bar and onto the sidewalk. It’s cold, but you can’t feel it, the whiskey is keeping you warm from the inside out. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you wonder if you could sleep in your car tonight. You wonder if there’s somewhere you could go.

Instead, you circle the block and peek into the frosty windows of the bar. Eddie and Ronnie are getting up from their barstools, and Laney is leaning over the bar to give Eddie a kiss on the cheek. You start up the stairs full of shame, anger, and confusion. You’re going to bed, and you’ll pretend to be asleep before Ronnie crawls in next to you. You know that this time, the light of the morning will only put a spotlight on your bad behavior.

—-

The sunlight sneaks in through the blinds, and your eyes crack open to see the room spinning in front of you. You groan, and an arm wraps around your waist. Ronnie. You see a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting on your bedside table. You sit up a little and take 2 pills with a small sip of water. And another sip. One more, and then it hits you. The things you said last night.

“Oh no, what did I do?” You ask yourself. And then you notice that the hand around your waist is bigger than it should be. You should have known by the smell of him, that scent that calms you and makes you feel cared for.

Eddie’s fully dressed and laying on top of your blankets, face pressed into the pillow you bought specifically for Ronnie to use while she stayed with the both of you. He must have - what? - been worried about you and passed out while checking on you? Probably. You’re surprised Ronnie didn’t crawl in between the two of you, sharing a bed is something the three of you have done many times.

You lay back down and push your face into Eddie’s chest. You’ll take his comfort for now. Let the sadness and humiliation leak out of your eyes and onto his cotton shirt. For now, you breathe in the smell of his neck, and let his curls tickle your cheek, thankful for the opportunity to steal this peaceful moment before the questions need to be answered.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

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Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (Bonus)

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Find ALL the Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend Fics HERE

This bonus material is brought to you by @darkangel4121 (who wanted to see the toxic boyfriends get what they deserve)

I took some liberties with the prompt since I wanted to keep them short. There are two drabbles (100 words each) and two double drabbles (200 words each). The commonality is that the toxic boyfriend always receives a punch to the face. :)

Content Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, minor violence, brief blood

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Best step back, mate.” Kyle extends his arm, blocking more of your view.

Your now ex-boyfriend glowers, lips turned downward in a frown. “She’s mine.”

“I broke it off,” you snap over Kyle’s shoulder.

“I’ll handle this,” whispers Kyle, shaking his head.

Your ex guffaws. “You cheated. Shacked up with this wanker.”

The muscle in Kyle’s jaw twitches.

Your ex sneers at Kyle before turning his best smile on you. “I’ve been so good to you. And we both made mistakes.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Won’t happen again.”

“You’re a liar,” you hurl, voice quavering. “You’ll do it again.” And then, more softly. “I didn’t cheat. I left you.”

Your ex takes a step closer, and Kyle matches his movements.

“Back off,” hisses Kyle, shoulders tensing.

“Or what? What will you do?” He keeps moving toward Kyle, nostrils flared, face becoming red with anger. “What will you—”

Kyle swings. He’s so fast you don’t even see his arm move. All you see is the spray of blood and the sudden drop of your ex’s body to the ground.

Your hands cover your mouth. There is silence. Stillness. Then your ex groans, waking, pushing off the ground.

“Piss off,” murmurs Kyle.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is gonna lose his head if this wanker doesn’t leave.

“She told you fuck off.”

Your ex remains still, not glancing at Johnny. He steps to the side intending to walk around him. Johnny growls. Following.

“Just want to talk. Give me a chance. I’m good for it.”

“You have no right to speak to her,” snaps Johnny.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

The crunch is loud as Johnny’s fist makes contact. Gratification rolls through Johnny as the man collapses to the ground.

The fucker groans, clutching his face. Johnny grabs your hand, stepping over the guy, leading you away.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The words don’t make it out of your ex’s mouth.

Simon swings. It is brutal. Raw.

You see red seconds after the crunch. Something is broken. Your ex hits the ground. Simon is already on him, hauling him up by the collar.

“Fuck off with your apologies and sweet talk,” growls Simon. “She’s not taking you back.”

Your ex’s gaze is lucid from Simon’s punch. “If you try to speak to her—fuck, even look at her, I’ll break more than your nose.” Simon shakes him. Your ex groans. “Got it?”

He nods and Simon shoves him to the ground.

John Price

John and your ex are in a standoff.

“Leave,” says Price. “I won’t ask again.”

Your ex rolls his eyes and turns to address you. He always returns with sweet words and kind gestures to lure you back. But not this time.

You’re done.

John grabs him by the throat and shoves him up against the wall. “I told you to leave.”

“You with him now?” your ex says to you, accusation in his tone. “While we’re still together?”

“We’re not together. You abandoned me.”

His lip curls and you know the word he wants to say. It’s sitting on his tongue. He’s used it before.

“She’s not yours,” growls Price.

“Fuck you.”

John drops him, and before his feet hit the ground, John swings, sending your ex’s body spinning into the wall. He hits plaster. Collapses.

“Oh my god.”

John grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him to the front door. He starts to stir. Kicks out. John kicks him right back, sending him sprawling out onto the front stoop. Your ex sways on his feet, one finger pointed in accusation.

“You—”

“—Are done here,” finishes Price, slamming the door in his face.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

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bigtreefest · 25 days

Text

A What in Church?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader (can be read as a continuation of Meet The Parents or alone)

Summary: Ransom comes with you and your family to church…and then comes with you at church 🥴 (I’m sorry, but I had to)

Word count: 2,728

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, SMUT, near-fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls, for the love of all that is holy, wrap it up), sex in front of a mirror, sex in a church😬, creampie, established relationship, swears, Ran is a sneaky li’l gaslighter but not towards you, lying in Church?, kissing, pet name usage, choking on one’s own saliva, implied female reader, li’l belly bulge

A/N: I hope God forgives me for thinking this up during church…

This is for the Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza set up by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18 with the prompts of characters cum together at the same time and praise.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

It was early Sunday morning when you dragged Ransom out of bed.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale, come on. You have to get up. We’re already running late and I’m not dealing with disapproving looks from my parents for punctuality. It’s already bad enough every time the church ladies give me a side eye when I show up.”

He sighed as he rolled over in his high thread count sheets, the sunlight now hitting his face causing him to squint. He looked at you through one open eye as he made a light scowl.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. It’s too early. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” A sly smirk crept onto his face as he reached out and pulled your hips closer to the bed.

You put a hand on his forehead, trying your best and failing to push him away. “Ransom, no. The only reason I stayed over was to make sure we got there on time. My parents think you’re picking me up right now and neither of us are even showered. If you get up now, maybe I’ll let you join me. Then we can get going.”

His arms snaked from your hips and around to give your ass a squeeze. “Hm….deal.” He rasped out in his groggy voice before shifting to get up.

“Whose idea was it to join your family at the 8am service of church this week, anyway?” Ransom threw the covers off the side of the bed in a mini tantrum before rising on his knees on the mattress to be face-to-face with you. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly smoothing out the bed head before giving him a peck.

“Yours, baby. That’s what you get for trying to impress my mom.”

You fixed your makeup in the mirror of Ransom’s Beamer and smoothed down your baby blue linen dress after Ransom parked in the church parking lot. You turned to look at him as you straightened the collar of his shirt that peeked over his sweater.

“You look absolutely dapper. The church ladies are gonna love you. Probably enough for them to keep their judgy eyes off me. Now let’s just hope they don’t start asking my mom about a wedding date.” You grumbled the last part as you brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders before leaning back towards your own seat again and placing your hand on the door handle.

Ransom didn’t move a muscle as he sat there, leaning over the center console, with a look as deep at the ocean. That was weird. You’d expected him to have his cocky game face on, which he did, but his eyes showed something different.

“What? Is something wrong? Do I not look okay? Are you regretting agreeing to come along today?”

He sighed and shook his head before holding out his hand for yours. “No, you look heavenly. I am regretting sleeping in because if I wouldn’t have, maybe you would’ve actually let me touch you in the shower. I thought a shower with you meant with you, but you tricked me, you minx.”

You softly smiled at the beginning of his statement, placing your hand in his. As he kept going, you rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder. “Oh please. You and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten up for anything else. And if I would’ve let you touch me, we’d still be at your place.”

He shrugged before pulling you closer for a final kiss before heading in. It was the kind that left you breathless and speechless, and a little dizzy when he pulled away, but that could have been due to skipping breakfast, too. Your eyes were still closed when he spoke against your lips. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily, though. Now stay here while I get your door. Gotta make sure the church ladies see me treating you well.”

Your jaw dropped as he gave you a smirk, fire rising in his gaze as he slipped out of the driver’s side and over to yours.

Ransom held your hand as he walked into the church, sliding into a pew near the back where your family had saved the two of you a seat. It was just in time for the service to begin. You were simultaneously filled with relief for not being late, but also anxiousness. You knew that when he held that look in his eye, Ransom was up to no good.

If someone had asked you what you’d gathered from the sermon so far, your answer would be ‘jack shit.’ You were too focused on Ransom, and the way his hand was creeping up your leg as he stared straight ahead. He looked enthralled by whatever the preacher was dragging on and on about, but you knew better from the way his lips curled just slightly at the corners and his ringed pinky finger was sliding under the hem of your dress. The cool metal gave you chills. Your breath hitched, just as you were salivating, imagining what Ransom could possibly have in store for you. Unfortunately, that didn’t make for a good combination, as you choked on your own saliva.

You tried your hardest to hold in your coughs, eyes watering, until you couldn’t take it anymore. They burst out of you and the sound of your coughs, one after another, echoed through the nearly silent room as you scrambled to get up and into the hallway. Ransom shot your parents a sympathetic look before wordlessly gesturing that he was going to check up on you. They nodded in response, glad you had found someone so caring and responsible.

You burst through the doors at the back of the room with Ransom hot on your heels. You fast walked into the family restroom and Ransom slipped in behind you. He locked the door and made his way to your hunched over form, your arms bracing you against the sink as you continued coughing and heaving, trying to catch your breath. Ransom rubbed your back in soothing circles until you took a final gasp for air and looked up at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl.

“You did this. This is your fault, Mr. Handsy.” It came out with the slightest rasp. Ransom’s face morphed from slight concern into suggestion. Now that he had made sure you were okay, he was more than happy to have you exactly where he wanted you all along: alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one out there snorting my spit. I could probably successfully swallow, unlike you.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile you up so you’d give in to him now since you didn’t earlier this morning. You’d never outwardly crumble that easily, though. Where was the fun in that?

“First off, you should be the one to know I’m great at swallowing. And secondly, if you believe you did nothing wrong, I think we should find you a neurologist for those wandering hands. Maybe the rings are causing nerve damage and cutting off the feeling in your fingertips.” Ransom couldn’t help but let out a small chortle at that. Good one, babe. But he knew what could push you a little farther. He knew how much you really did love the way his hands wandered, even if you’d say otherwise. He could tell right now even, as he shifted to stand behind you, soft fingertips tracing up the front of your thighs and under your flowy dress. His hand was in between your thighs, creeping dangerously close to your cotton panties. He used his grip to pull you back against him, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Oh honey, I don’t have to be able to feel my fingers to know how good they make you feel.” He ran his fingers over the dampening fabric as your breath hitched. Finally.

His grin grew wide as he slipped his pinky finger under the gusset of your panties and pulled it to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air.

You hissed at the sensation as Ransom began running a finger through your wetness. If you were anywhere else but a church bathroom, he would have worked to pull even louder sounds from you than the tiny breaths and moans you were already making, but that’s not something that could be afforded right now. As his one hand continued to tease your entrance, the other moved to cover your mouth.

“Quiet, Sweetheart. You make a noise and I stop. Don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.” You nodded in acknowledgment and Ransom was satisfied with that response, kissing your temple that was collecting a thin shimmer from sweat already. Just as he was about to dip a finger in, though, the two of you heard music start. That meant service was almost over. They would play a few songs, and then everyone would rush out the doors, making it impossible for the two of you to leave the bathroom undetected and unsuspected of what was going on right now.

Ransom didn’t waste a second, though, pulling his hands off you to unzip his slacks and pull them down just low enough. His eyes locked in on yours in the mirror again, deep blue irises thin around lust and mischief-blown pupils.

“Sorry, sweetie. Don’t have time to prepare you. But you can handle that, right?” You didn’t have a chance to reply this time, as his hand found it’s place over your mouth again at the same time he fully sheathed himself within you.

The little squeak you made into Ransom’s hand when you were trying to hold back was music to his ears. Oooo, he liked that. He was gonna make sure to do whatever he could in the future so you’d make it again, but he didn’t have the time for it right now.

His hand that wasn’t over your mouth snaked to your tummy from where it was gripping your hip. Ransom could just barely feel the bulge pushing against your softness with each thrust and it drove him wild, as he sped up his thrusts and babbled into your ear.

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you. Taking this so well. Being so good for me. I’d say you were an angel if we weren’t fucking like two whores in church right now.”

His vulgar words always did something to you, causing your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench. That was Ransom’s favorite, especially when he found it out that his sharp tongue was something you actually enjoyed and rewarded him for, instead of punished. Despite his hand on your mouth, you were still working hard to keep yourself quiet, only letting out a low moan in response.

“Fuck, so good. So, gah-tight. You’re so perfect. I’m gonna take my hand off, okay? You gotta keep it down and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You gripped harder against the sink as Ransom removed his hand, using it to hike your leg up on the edge of the counter, his hand that was previously on your stomach moving to rub your clit.

You gasped for air, before moving your own hand to your mouth. If you were at home, moans and curses would’ve been profusely spilling out of your mouth with how near your were to the tipping point. Ransom’s grunts in your ear we’re pulling you even closer to the edge when he licked your neck, the sweet taste of your perfume mixed with salty sweat hitting his tongue, and the debauchery of the gesture tossing you over the edge of your orgasm. Your knee gave out as you came, Ransom’s strong arms holding you up against the sink as you felt him swell and release in you at the same time, still rubbing your clit and shallowly thrusting for both of you to come down from your highs.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breath was hot against your neck, but you were both pulled out of the post-orgasmic bliss by the sound of the music changing. The last song of service was playing and within a few minutes, everyone would be emerging into the hall.

Ransom pulled out of you faster than he had before, both of you moaning with oversensitivity and the abruptness of the action. You gained composure on your jelly legs before pulling your panties back into place and doing your best to fix your makeup in the mirror. Luckily, the smudges could be attributed to your coughing fit earlier, but Ransom’s rogue hairs that had flown forward and stuck to his forehead couldn’t. You quickly pushed them back into a decent position and straightened his collar before rushing into the hallway and taking a seat at an old pew that was next to a table with water bottles and cookies on it, set out for the social hour that always happened after service. Ransom grabbed a bottle and quickly chugged it down halfway, handing it to you just as the last song was ending.

“Here, hunch forward like you’re still recovering. And take this.” He was too good at convincing people of the scenes they had walked into. But how could you complain when it had gotten you out of trouble with the cops more times than you could count? Including after the two of you had been parked somewhere a little too long having car sex, or when he had driven just a little too recklessly while fingering you in the passenger seat. He always knew exactly how to manipulate the scene in his favor, convincing others to not believe their own eyes, but the stories he presented them instead. But he didn’t do it to you, never to you. He learned that the hard way, it’s better to be honest and do it with you. You were his teammate, who better to use his skills for than the one he loved? Bring it up though, and he’d deny it.

So you and Ransom sat there, your elbows on your knees and him rubbing circles on your back with his large, warm palm. Sure, it was performative, but it was also extremely comforting and reassuring, especially with the way he just rocked your world in the bathroom.

The church-goers began to file out of the double doors and into the hall. You looked up through your eyelashes to be greeted by your parents. They looked at you with confusion and a hint of concern when your dad crouched in front of you and your mom sat next to Ransom.

“Everything alright?” Your dad looked up into your eyes and you managed a nod, taking a sip from the water bottle and clearing your throat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got into a coughing fit and couldn’t shake it. Much better now.”

Ransom heard the clarity with which you spoke. If he really wanted to be convincing, he should’ve had you suck him off. There wasn’t really the time for that, though. As much as he loved watching your lips wrapped around him, he came way faster inside you, and how could he allow for the evidence of scuffs on your knees when you were wearing such a pretty dress? Maybe next time, when you were in jeans.

Ransom was pulled out of his thoughts when your mom and dad spoke, thanking him for checking up on you.

“Oh no problem, don’t worry, I took good care of your girl. I always will.”

They smiled, and must’ve believed the scene in front of them, as the topic swiftly changed to what they wanted for brunch plans. Ransom met your gaze, giving a quick wink for only you to see before kissing the top of your head and giving his input to the conversation.

That was the last you saw of him for half an hour, though, as the church ladies descended, squeezing themselves between the two of you, oohing and ahhhing over your sly boyfriend. Every now and then, as they’d ask him a tidal wave of questions, his eyes would seek you, full of fire, secrecy, and love, paired with that signature smirk on his face.

Bonus A/N: I think something that this extravaganza has taught me is that I have a thing for mirrors….and that scares me. It’s so hot in fics, and sure, every time I walk past a mirror in real life, I’ve been told I stop, but I wasn’t aware of what a dangerous combination that made until now. Lord save me, but he’s probably too angry at me now bc I wrote this.

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