Tumgik
#it's very new so its a bit empty
carnivalcarrion · 8 months
Text
k i thiiiiink i'm gonna close my inbox for a Bit bc there is... so much in there... and more gets buried with each new ask & i Want to get to them all! but there are ninety-five (95!) asks in that box rn. and i know from experience that if i don't take care of it that number will build to ungodly levels, and then it'll get so overwhelming i won't be able to get myself to answer Any <3
#its just that i want to respond to Most with scribbles#and since it takes me so long to do anything#especially lately with... everything that's happening... my Motivation and Energy has been more drained than normal#and 'normal' is already at Low Levels!#but yeah and i just Want To Get To Everyone#there are some real good asks in there!#but then each new one is like Oh I Wanna Do That#YALL ARE GIVING ME TOO MANY TASTY RECIPES!!!#i cant bake 95 cakes at once!!!!#all of this said affectionately ofc#i never imagined my lil art blog's inbox would ever reach double digits#let alone nearing triples!#i just need to take things a bit slower than usual. implement some personal moderation yk yk#absolutely unprompted#do i know when the box will reopen? nope!#in all honesty it might be a couple months... idk idk. idk!#my life is very uncertain and stressful and will be for At least until november#mid-november probably. late november. perhaps even early december...#depends on how quickly i get settled in my New living situation or how fast i empty the inbox#cause im moving late october... i just dont know!#everything is kinda falling apart! but its fine its fine . i will work on asks and art#*will graham voice* this is my escape#there are several that im excited to get around to!#mainly a couple'a Lights Out ones but there are Others as well...#if you were planning on sending an ask. uh. sorry!#im grabbing your tongue and shoving it back in your face. hush.#edit: AND i wanna respond to some replies cause those get sooo neglected#its like my brain says 'you can either respond to replies or asks. not both. die'#and i have to be all 'thanks cool thats totally reasonable! perish'
39 notes · View notes
kiddokori · 9 months
Text
things i like about totk so far: the depths,
i am going to be so completely honest i thought id be able to think of more. um. this is awkward
#ive only beat the first ‘temple’ the rito one and like. i thought it was goofy. i did not take it seriously. the boss was cool the music#was banger as usual that specifically i thought was cool#i doo like the depths tho. fun to explore. pretty. ominous music. quiet. peaceful if i aboid mobs correctly#and like all the stuff that is inherent to botw/totk i enjoy the world the horses cooking the outfits etc etc#but thats not unique to totk so i dont count it#goofy ass cutscenes. weird pacing. story feels very forced and not coherent so far#really just feels like they went ok we need to make another botw and just made up whatever excuse they could#to get zelda out of the story again instead of actually writing something#putting the wagon in front of the horse situation#also botws whols thing was New Innovative Breaking Conventions#and then they went oh the New Innovative Breaking Conventions game did good? cool lets make the exact same New thing again#not how that works. sucks all of the appeal out of the whole foundation#you cant copy innovation you have to make something new#like im gomna play it anyways and enjoy myself cuz its zelda but come on man. and for 70 bucks??#killing nintendo myself#oh i like the tower cutscene link fucking blastinf out of the top of it#also pretty#im a bit disappointed in the sky islands it doesnt really feel explorable its just like hey theyre there. some of them have little things on#them or some hidden challenge. and i go ok. well what about all the empty ones that are a pain in the ass to get to#and they go shhh shshshshsh. dont worry about that. think about Parallels. symbolism.#when all i can think about it the fact i do not have my large bird friend to help me explore#being so serious loftwings would make this game better. new mode of traversal for the new environment (sky)#those robo birds suck theyre so hard to get off the islands without just falling#ive tried fucking around with the new building/tech stuff i do not like it. awkward. clunky. irritating to me#idk if thats a me issue or if other people also think its bad but. im not a fan#give me my fucking bird. it makes sense and it would work so much better. please
20 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
big fan of whatever is happening on alpha rn
6 notes · View notes
fagflint · 2 years
Text
i literally hate driving i hate the idea of driving i hate cars in general and i think people should by and large be able to exist without a need for them, transportation provided by trains and other public transportation stuff. however comma, i cannot fucking wait to get my license tbh. get me the fuck out of here.
#rambles#my therapist also brought up the idea of. my mom wants to move in the spring. im trying to get my drivers license and college stuff started#here. and i worry abt leaving bc my therapist cant see me out of state. so she posed the question of: would i consider staying.#and tbh? if i was comfortable here? if i had some stability if i had yk my college stuff (that has like. housing support) and my therapist#and all that? yes i would stay.#i dont even LIKE TX but i like the diversity of this place and OH scares me (mom's family (conservatives). really really white circles etc)#like. my grandpa doesnt like anything more 'foreign' than ciopinno. TX isnt great but at least i could be my own person here.#i have one friend nearby and another farther away and i care about them both very much and i could stay here. i could. i might.#it all depends! but like. i could. i might.#<- WHICH IS WILD TO ME BC. ACTIVELY CHOOSING TO STAY HERE? THE FUCKING PLACE IVE BEEN HATING FOR YEARS?????#like who knows. i havent been to OH in years. maybe itll be different. maybe itll be better. but this is literally the immigration capital#of the country there are SO many diff cultures here and i havent even seen most of it but just the tiny bits of it i fucking REVEL in.#and i dont Want something new again especially when its a repeat of 'this place has a historic reputation for bigotry'#so like. i dont know. but i might.#especially because my mom doesnt want to get a huge house when its gonna be empty in like <10 years so she doesnt want to get a room for me#(😂😂😂😂😂) so its like. i might just fucking stay.#i can get a cert and start working within like. im p sure 2 semesters of this thing which if i do the mini-mester and then spring#i can do. abd then ill work and maybe kll put the rest of the associates on hold (which is common according to the orientation rep)#and work for a while and get some stability etc etc and then continue. like. i might fucking do that. who knows.#ill talk to an advisor tomorrow. but yeah.
1 note · View note
sserpente · 6 months
Text
The Sunwalker's Gift
Tumblr media
Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?
Tumblr media
A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…
Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3
Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.
He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.
You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.
Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.
Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.
Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.
The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.
“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.
You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.
He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.
“What is it, darling?”
“Nothing… I just… love you.”
Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.
“I love you too.”
“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”
“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”
“Just a moment, please.”
The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.
“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.
“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.
“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”
“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”
The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.
With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.
“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”
It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.
“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”
Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.
Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.
“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.
Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.
“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.
Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.
“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.
“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”
His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”
“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”
“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.
“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”
“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.
“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”
“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”
“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”
You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”
Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”
Tumblr media
A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!
6K notes · View notes
danveration · 2 months
Text
That no-good-first-man-on-earth
Parings: Alastor x reader
Summary: Alastor opens up to you (kinda). You confront him about his cane being gone, asking what happened after the early extermination attack.
Word count: (Around) 1154
Warnings: Mention of Adam dying, mention of death, mention of Al taking someone’s soul, ummm.. yes I think that’s about it!
A/N: YES I MADE IT !! the ending might be a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! :’)
Tumblr media
It was a week or two after the early extermination attack. The hotel has gotten a bit more residents and attention due to Charlie and the original residents protecting hell and successfully winning. The hotel has gotten an upgrade, that’s for sure. Lucifer now approves of its looks, so that says something.
During the attack you noticed how Alastor disappeared for a while and came back when it was all over. It made you question what happened when he went up against Adam. He was fine, physically. But you noticed something in his eyes that changed. Of course, he still smiles the same as before.. but it doesn’t always seem like he wants to. But the biggest, most obvious thing you noticed is that his staff/cane is gone. Nobody really seemed to question it but it set off an alarm in your brain because, well, he always has it on him.
You’re currently sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the lobby of the hotel, when you see Alastor confidently stroll in. He gives the lobby a quick look all around to see who’s all in there. In which, right now it’s just you.
“Hello, my dear!” He says, smiling and starts walking towards you.
“I must say, it’s rare that it’s empty in this area. Peace and quiet is often something I don’t have the luxury in experiencing, especially now that the hotel has gotten the attention that Charlie desperately craved.” He laughs.
He’s now standing beside you. You look up and smile back at him.
“Yeah, I’m happy for her though. She seems very overwhelmed, you know? But in a good way.” You say.
“Mm yes, she does, doesn’t she?”
You want to bring up how he doesn’t have his cane anymore, but you don’t know exactly how he’ll react. Though, he hasn’t ever snapped at you so you think it won’t be bad. Knowing him, he’ll probably just avoid the question by saying, “that’s for me to know.” As he does whenever someone brings up why he was absent for 7 years.
“Hey, Al?” You say, looking at him.
He raises his brow in question.
“Hm? What is it, dear?” He asks.
“I have a question.. you totally don’t need to tell me but I’ve just noticed that your um.. cane? You don’t have it anymore.”
You notice as you bring it up, Alastor tenses up and smiles more, darting his eyes away from you. You can feel that this was something he didn’t think you’d bring up.
He doesn’t seem to be saying anything, so you continue. “I was just wondering.. why is that? You usually keep it on you at all times. And also I’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit different since-“ You are stopped suddenly by Alastor using his shadow magic to teleport the two of you to his room.
You are caught by surprise, looking around disoriented, but than you realize where you are.
“Uhm- Al?” You question.
You assume he took you two to his room because he didn’t want anyone to hear the conversation, so you don’t question it. Which makes sense, he doesn’t want anyone else questioning his motives.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens his eyes and looks at you. “That is for me to know.” He says in a neutral tone.
Wow such a surprising statement.
“I knew you’d say that. Listen, you know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.” You assure him.
He looks at you weirdly, as if he is waiting for the joke line to happen. But it doesn’t. You care for him. That’s definitely new. Sure, Alastor has friends. Or, acquaintances, as he calls it. But you seem to deeply care for him and what happened.
He isn’t sure exactly how to react. “How amusing! That’s very kind of you.” He says and chuckles. You notice something in his eyes that doesn’t align with the emotion he is trying to project.
“Alastor, I’m serious. You don’t need to put on a show for me.. I want to know the real you.” You say, looking at him.
He debates if he should continue with his charades, but knows you’ll just see past it. He never ever would be this laid-back with anyone else accusing him of “putting on a show” or accusing him of having alternative feelings. He would’ve surely taken their soul or.. well, killed them by now. But you and his relationship has always been good. You guys always chat about whatever nonsense comes to mind, he showed you around the place where he records his radio broadcasts, and even let you attended once. He always had a soft spot for you. You never had a fear of him and never liked it when Husk or other people badmouthed him. He once caught you ranting to Niffty about how much you adored him. It made him smile.
Alastor squints his eyes and thinks of what to say.
“Well, my dear. You know that no-good-first-man-on-earth? Adam, I believe his name was.” He emphasizes the word “was,” seemingly to be very happy and satisfied now that he’s dead. He laughs continues, “he used his no-good angelic waves to break in half!” He says.
You’re in shock. Not because you thought his cane was indestructible or anything. It was because he actually told you what happened. You guess he trusts you more than he lets on.
“Oh..” You look at him sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Alastor.”
“Mm, yes. Me too. But no worries, dear. I can live without it.” He says trying to cover up the fact that he cares quite a lot.
Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm trying to give him comfort. He slowly moves his head to look at your hand. He doesn’t mind one bit, in fact, he feels the complete opposite of how he usual feels when people try to touch him.
You quickly remember he doesn’t like physical touch very much, so you move to pull away.
“No.” He says quickly.
You’re confused and question what he means.
“No, what?”
Your hand on his arm felt like a new sensation he hasn’t felt before. He quickly became embarrassed of his sudden outburst decline of you not taking his hand on his arm.
Something inside him snaps and his persona cracks, and he then does something that you’ve never expect.
He hugs you.
Your heart feels warm and you have butterflies in your stomach. THE Alastor, the radio demon is hugging you. You don’t see him as those labels though. You see him as HIM.
Despite your incredible shock in what is happening, you hug him back, wrapping your arms around his suit jacket.
“I do apologize.” He mumbles while hugging you.
“You don’t have to apologize, Alastor. This is what I wanted. For you to open up.” You say softly and smile.
He doesn’t pull away yet, and you don’t mind one bit.
A/N: IM THINKING OF MAKING A PART TWO WHERE THE READER MAKES HIM ANOTHER CANE AS A SURPRISE. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!!
2K notes · View notes
sanjisblackasswife · 1 month
Note
Can u pleaseeee do a part 2 to the nanami cam girl fanfiction 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
Part 1 Of Nanami x Cam!Girl Reader Here
Blk!Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Pervert Nanami, Nanami with a voice kink, Idk. Smut fr w some plot.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Sssshit, yes baby….” Nanami’s voice growled from the back of his throat, his legs beginning to rise as his body tenses for a moment. His groans echoed through his empty apartment, only thing luminating his room was the lights of the city and his phone in his hand.
He threw his head back to land on the headboard, mind feeling a little fuzzy. This orgasm definitely drained him way more than any this week.
Maybe because this particular video he was using to get off was his and only for him.
“I um…i hope that was good for you Mr. Nanami.” She spoke breathlessly holding up the camera above her face as she laid on the fluffy pillows on her bed, eyes were dilated, cheeks flushed despite her skin tone, strands of hair on her forehead. She must have overworked herself this time. She did cum more than usual, as requested of him. “I never came that much, I almost feel embarrassed i couldn’t last as long as I should of.”
“You did amazing, sweetheart.” Nanami thought as she began to ramble a bit….per requested. Her voice was almost the equivalent to an angel through his ears. So soft, feminine and gentle.
Almost the polar opposite of her whiney, loud, slutty voice when she moans his name.
“I never gotten a um…private suggestion and you’ve been…so sweet with your donations I actually was able to get a new camera for it so of course I had to show you!”
“I noticed.” He thought, a faint smirk arising on his face.
“As promised though please do not share this video or post on any other platforms. Please.”
Nanami clicked off the video to give a long sign of relief. Her voice was too cute;
“Please.”
His thoughts still going a mile a minute, “Maybe next time she can beg to cum for me.”
Shaking his head to clear some of his perverted ideas he got up to take a quick shower and put on some new sheets. He actually tired himself out tonight, but he still couldn’t completely fall asleep.
He was tired yes, but everytime he shut his eyes they fluttered back up.
Tossing and turning on his bed he reached for his phone again, maybe another rewatch?
The shame nanami felt watching the streamer was now completely gone, he only watched her anyways and something about her voice always helped him not only get off, but fall asleep.
He remembers hearing a very….perverted conversation with Geto and Gojo about listening to sexual audios when they are too sleepy to watch a video, but too awake to fall asleep.
…It was 7am and honestly Nanami tried to ignore it, but Gojo was so damn loud.
With a moment before reconsidering he reached for his airpods and phone off the dresser again and scrolled through her videos.
This one. This video where she first moaned his first name was soothing
….to him.
Laying on his back, gently allowing the weight of his lids to fall shut he turned up the volume of his phone and just listened to her.
He replayed the video so much he almost can invision what she was doing in the exact moment she was speaking.
Nanami had no intention to touch himself again, just to simply hear her, but how naive of him to think he can listen to the wet sounds of her cunt and her soft moans and NOT have a body reaction.
He felt himself get hard, palming his shaft he rubbed it through his boxers, face getting red from the lewd thoughts he imagined from the video.
Nanami invisioned him on top of her, throwing her pretty thick leg on his shoulder, kissing her ankle to distract her from the full feeling of his tip and a few inches of shaft pushing its way inside her. When she moaned Nanami’s name he imagined that’s exactly how she’d sound the moment he bottomed out.
Without noticing his hand was down his boxers moving his fist at the same pace she was fingering herself.
Nanami wasn’t the type to make A LOT of noise when hes self pleasuring. He’s more vocal when with a woman, but his thoughts almost felt like reality he started to speak to himself as if she was there.
“Goooood good girl, sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me…yesss fuck—-so good taking me in like this….”
He never really got off to just audio before, but somehow with his eyes shut he felt more sensitive and it wasn’t long until he felt close again, but he tried to hold on until til she was as well.
“C’mon baby…just like that cum with me. Yes fuck—-“
It probably would seem embarrassing to see such a big strong man whimpering in his bed alone at the thought of fucking a girl he doesn’t even know, but fuck it he did not care. It felt too good to him
It wasn’t too long until he made another mess. Sucking his teeth he just grumbled to himself knowing he needs to grab a towel, but before he does that, he moves over the table in his phone and clicks “New Message”.
While still coming down from his high, Nanami sends another $200 donation and private message to the pretty streamer stating;
“How much would it be for a private phone call?”
1K notes · View notes
sillysowa · 8 months
Text
SEXTAPE
Tumblr media
PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER
GENRE: SMUT, STARTS OFF PRETTY CUTE BUT GETS KINKY
WORD COUNT: 1.1K
WARNINGS: PERVY HOBIE, VAGINAL FINGERING, BITING, SLIGHT DEGRADATION(?), HOBIE FINGERS YOU WHILE YOU PLAY GUITAR, RECORDING SEX
AUTHORS NOTE: I LOVE THIS SONG AND I FULLY KNOW ITS NOT DIRTY, BUT ITS MY INSPIRATION. (‘TING’ IS JUST SLANG FOR THING!)
SYNOPSIS: HOBIE JUST CANT GET ENOUGH OF HIS GIRL PLAYING HER GUITAR
Your amateur fingers danced over your electric guitar, a messier version of Sextape by Deftones ringing out in your empty room. Your amp blinked, your room was freezing, and you found yourself growing more comfortable with the beginning riff. This song was important to you—Hobie having introduced it to you on your first date when he drove you home. It was late, and you were tired, but the song left a mark on you.
The window was open like it always was, awaiting your lover boy. Hobie was at Headquarters for god knows what reason, and he had been gone very long now. You had no way of knowing when he’d be home, busting yourself with your new hobby. It was strange and it was difficult, but when you got it, it sounded beautiful.
Hobie had had an exhausting day, wishing he could be home with you the whole time he was at HQ, but understanding the need for his help. Finally, he was out of there, walking back into London through a portal and sighing in relief. He was standing on the side of your apartment building with his hands in his pockets, walking up the wall and pausing when he heard you cursing,
“Shit, No! I just had it are you kidding?” You grunted, awkwardly adjusting your fingers for the chord you were desperately trying to perfect. Hobie’s ears pricked up, the sound instantly earning his undivided attention as he crouched outside your window, head peeking in just enough to not catch your attention but to give him a good view of you.
To you, you looked a mess. To Hobie, you looked like something straight out of a wet dream—your hair was out of your face, (whether that’s with a bonnet, hair tie, or whatever works for you!) and you were in just your underwear and a tank top. Your guitar was on your lap, and the frustration in your face went straight to his dick. Hobie couldn’t help it, you just looked so ravishing when you were upset.
You were in the middle of the chorus when your boyfriend Hobie makes his arrival through your window, but you don’t jump, you’re used to it by now.
“Hobie, I was beginning to think you’d be gone all ni-“ You start, beginning to take your guitar sling off when Hobies large hands outstretch towards you, palms up,
“Wait-wait-wait! I wanna hear! Don’t wanna miss the show.” He smirks, backing away when you reposition your guitar with a slight eye roll. Hobie just laughs at you as he gets changed,
“It’s really not any good so far, Hobie, and i’ll probably mess up if you’re watching.” You whine, not exactly interested in embarrassing yourself in front of your experienced boyfriend.
“Hey don’t even start with all that, you’re doing great, luv, and I wanna hear the progress.” Hobie quips, a finger pointed towards you as he nears the bed. You’re surprised when Hobie gets real close next to you and then ushers you to scoot forward a bit, then it clicks,
“Hobie-“
“What?” He says, feigning innocence as he invites you to sit with your back to his chest, his legs spread to give you room. You sigh when you realize he won’t let you not do this, positioning yourself,
“You’re such a perv, Hobie.”
“Yeah and you love it.” He smirks, pulling you real close.
You position your fingers on the neck of the guitar, momentarily forgetting what song you were playing. You feel Hobie’s hands on your thighs, and you try to focus. The songs starts. It’s surprisingly steady sounding, and the strings aren’t buzzing like earlier.
“That’s it, good job.” Hobies deep voice rumbles behind you, almost causing you to lose track. You’re playing the song as best as possible, shifting slightly, completely unaware of the effect it was having on Hobie. You feel his fingers creep down to your covered slit, and you pause,
“Hobie?” You question with a slight tilt of your head only for him to grab your chin and face you forward again, hushing you,
“Keep playing.” His voice instantly silences you, and you follow his command, fingers dancing across the strings and continuing the song. You shiver as he starts to rub your clit through your panties, praising you when you do well, giving you tips when you mess up.
A chill trickles down your spine as Hobie moves your underwear to the side, spitting on his fingers before he slowly pushes two into you,
“Ngh~ Hobie! I-I can’t by play like this!” You moans and squirm, only resulting in a toothy grin to take over his features,
“Sure ya can, sweetheart. Just focus f’me.” Hobie reassures you, his voice deep and raspy. He starts to steadily pump his long fingers in and out of your cunt, which is being embarrassingly loud while you play.
“Mmm~ Ha~ Hobie~!” You moan, struggling to keep playing as he speeds up. The feeling of his fingers curling into that soft spot inside you drives you crazy, and you struggle,
“Finish the beautiful song for me love, I know you can.” Hobie whispers in your ear, kissing your neck and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. He fingers you so fast you see stars, and you don’t even realize what you’re saying anymore, moaning anything and everything that you feel. Hobie whispers in your ear the whole time,
“Oh you poor ting can’t even play anymore, feels that good yeah?” He chuckles, picking up speed when he feels your walls clenching around him. Your guitar is long forgotten, Hobie fingering you to your release like it’s a sport to him. When your back arches and you cum, Hobie leaves small bites on your neck and sucks hickeys all over, boner throbbing against your back as he whimpers at the sounds of your pleasure.
“Good girl baby, good girl.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out of your pussy while you whine, then tapping them on your lips, “Clean em up dollface.” He groans, cock hard against you as you suck his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue over them. When he pulls them out, he pulls your guitar over your head and web shoots it onto the wall, mounting it. Hobie grabs your neck, his jewelry clanging in the process as he gets up on his knees. He frees his cock and bends you over, your ass up and head down while you grip the sheets, incredibly flustered and shy from his sudden horniness. Suddenly, Hobie pulls your neck back and his phone is right in front of you. He records your expression when he thrusts into you, both of you moaning loudly before Hobie grunts,
“Smile for the camera, luv.”
3K notes · View notes
stllmnstr · 2 months
Text
champagne problems: part one
Tumblr media
pairing: jake sim x f reader
genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff
part one word count: 15.6k
part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome
soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.
There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.
The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
PART ONE
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?
Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness. 
Scratch that – thirty minutes. 
Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives. 
You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up. 
Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing. 
Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it. 
Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness. 
Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book. 
If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing. 
You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second. 
Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment. 
With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date. 
Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up. 
Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her. 
As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?
They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard. 
Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure. 
Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine. 
And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it. 
It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–
“Fuck.”
All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time. 
Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm. 
It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit. 
And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course. 
Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now. 
“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”
And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated. 
Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door. 
Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance. 
Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one. 
The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.
“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID. 
“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”
“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”
Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother. 
“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”
At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”
Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you. 
Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be. 
Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs.  And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.
Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home. 
Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about. 
One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line. 
Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal. 
Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”
Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”
“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always. 
Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.” 
Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily. 
“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”
Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”
There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out. 
What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”
“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 
“Do you think you could get it for me?”
Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 
“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 
“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 
“Why not?”
The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”
“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”
The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”
“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 
It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 
“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”
“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”
Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”
Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”
“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”
Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”
“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”
Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”
“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.
“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 
James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”
A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”
“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”
Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”
“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”
“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 
“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 
Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 
Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 
And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 
Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files. 
All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage. 
Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack. 
“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”
That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door. 
“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”
And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number. 
But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine  every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently. 
So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan. 
And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with. 
Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. 
For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful. 
Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding? 
He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom. 
In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”
“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger. 
“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”
“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way. 
Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long. 
“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”
Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”
“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”
Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”
Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”
Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.” 
Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out. 
“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”
“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine. 
Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute.  And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away. 
It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger. 
“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”
Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips. 
“You were?”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”
Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”
“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”
It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”
And that clicks things into place.  
“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.
“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms. 
Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes. 
“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”
“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”
Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it. 
“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”
“That’s not–” 
“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”
“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”
“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”
“It’s Jake, actually.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, just Jake.”
“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”
“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”
“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking?  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”
You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”
“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”
Your gaze narrows. “Who?”
“What?”
“Who did you make a deal with?”
Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”
Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.  
So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”
“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of  a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”
God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along  as you drag him with you. I am so fucked. 
When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless. 
“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.
“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before. 
“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down. 
Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone. 
Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”
“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend.  “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”
Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”
You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”
“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”
You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”
Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”
“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”
“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”
You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”
“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”
“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”
“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”
You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing. 
“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”
Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”
“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”
You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”
“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”
A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–
“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”
“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”
You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 
There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number. 
Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”
And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all. 
Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true. 
On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library. 
Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror. 
“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder. 
All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop. 
It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him. 
Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it. 
“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you. 
“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him. 
“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”
He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare. 
Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”
“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”
As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving. 
Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.  
Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.
You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”
And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”
“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”
“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”
You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace. 
“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right. 
And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”
But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”
Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”
You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”
He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall. 
“I…”
“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks. 
“Yes, okay?”
Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”
Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”
Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.
At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”
The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace. 
He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”
A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”
Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”
You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”
Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.
Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake. 
Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser. 
Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment. 
Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.
Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company. 
Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.
Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house. 
Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university. 
If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system. 
Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst. 
And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.
With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be. 
Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges. 
By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob. 
Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.  
Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all. 
It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically. 
In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom. 
If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too. 
And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.  
Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants. 
Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.
And then you set out for the university library. 
When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter. 
After all, the only reason you’re here is because–
“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence. 
If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax. 
“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”
You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”
Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”
“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice. 
And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.” 
You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.
When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”
Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute. 
Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.
All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides. 
He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–
Wait.
“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”
Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”
Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”
You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”
Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one. 
“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”
That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”
The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”
If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”
“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”
Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now. 
He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.
Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.
Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes. 
“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”
Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer. 
“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line. 
For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”
And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.  
And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it. 
Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom. 
Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.
But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.  
It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight. 
With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer. 
Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim. 
You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.
For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be. 
You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one. 
An overwhelming sense of  self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else. 
Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment. 
As you get closer, their words become more audible. 
“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”
And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it. 
But then you look at Jake. Really look at him. 
Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire. 
Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this. 
Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease. 
It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is. 
No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good. 
“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over. 
Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”
“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. 
Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”
From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.
Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”
You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”
A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.” 
You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it. 
Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”
She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”
The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier. 
Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.  
Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.
Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?
You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine. 
Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.  
Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face. 
“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”
“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”
And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant. 
Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”
“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”
And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.
Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.
The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window. 
It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace. 
So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being. 
Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.  
“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 
Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”
Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.
Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey. 
Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.
Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”
Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough. 
Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.
“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”
“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault. 
Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”
Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.  
Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production. 
Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for. 
There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation. 
“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”
“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices. 
He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you. 
Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there. 
You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.  
Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do. 
“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath. 
Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely. 
James Sim. 
You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”
“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him. 
Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker. 
Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”
You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”
It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name. 
Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed. 
“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”
Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”
Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”
“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments. 
Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs. 
James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card. 
Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced. 
Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.
But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.
Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.
A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”
Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name. 
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”
You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him. 
Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”
“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well. 
The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable. 
The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles. 
And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”
Girlfriend.
You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother. 
Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.
“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”
When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read. 
“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious. 
“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles. 
“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.” 
“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes. 
“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”
Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers. 
“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother. 
“Hopefully not, though,” you alter. 
And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.
Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you. 
The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations. 
“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it. 
“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”
“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”
Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions. 
But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”
“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there. 
Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout? 
Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus. 
After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance. 
“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.” 
Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”
“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.” 
You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.
“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have. 
After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being. 
Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom. 
As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else. 
Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening. 
When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut. 
Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless. 
The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror. 
Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :) 
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
CONTINUED IN PART 2
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. part two still needs some love, and I'm hoping to have it out around this same time next week. I'll announce for sure when I have a release date & time. as always, I love hearing any thoughts/comments/screaming you may have. happy reading!
1K notes · View notes
coryosbaby · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Give It To Me .
Dark! Luke Castellan x nymph! Reader
Content warning . Non-con, minor predator/prey themes, squirting
Tumblr media
You sigh as your toes are enveloped in cold, crystal clear water. Making your way into the pond, you’re thankful none of the other nymphs had followed you here.
Sure, it’s fun to swim with the others. At camp Half Blood, you’ve made a lot of new friends that are just as appreciative of the earth as you. But sometimes you need a moment to yourself— a moment with nature and its elements.
Your clothes are discarded— this is your hiding spot deep in the forest, after all. It’d be a wonder if someone found it. It’s as if it was made just for you.
You spend a great deal of time in the waves, resting against a giant boulder peeking out of the water, relishing in the cool breeze moving through. You giggle at the fish tickling your ankles because they’re always quite fond of you.
You enjoy your swim so much that for a second you don’t hear the sound of another.
It’s the noise of a belt buckle clinking that makes you turn your head towards the shore. You peek out over the surface of the water, and on the shore you see the figure of a tall male.
He seems to be going for a swim. He peels his shirt off, then slips his jeans down to his ankles and throws them on the ground somewhere behind him. He steps into the water, slow, emitting a small sigh as it envelopes him. He wades forward and then relaxes against the waves.
Your eyes glaze over.
You want to move. Your body stays behind the rock , however, to admire him for a moment more.
He’s an interesting half blood. Not like the others— older, with dark, raven like hair, pretty doe eyes, and a very fit body. He’s incredibly handsome, and something tugs in your chest.
You move by instinct, and it makes a splash. Your body freezes up in fear. The boy whirls around, surprised by the sound of another ounce of life in the empty pond. You peek over, praying he doesn’t see you as he makes his way towards the rock.
But to no avail. His eyes catch yours, then, and a feeling like butterfly wings twirls in your tummy.
“I thought I was the only one here.”
You struggle to say something to him, the shock of being caught and the attractiveness of his voice washing over you. He doesn’t seem to mind your timidness, and reaches out his hand.
“I’m Luke.”
Luke. Where had you heard that before? You can’t be sure.
Your much smaller hand falls into his, and your arm erupts into goose flesh. His lips part beautifully—demigod charm.
“You’re a nymph, aren’t you?” He continues. “I’ve seen girls like you in the lake… never back here.”
“Yes,” you reply, in almost a mere whisper. “I’m sorry. I was just.. I’m shy, that’s all.”
He chuckles, both hands running through his hair. Water droplets stick to his forehead.
“Shy. Not shy enough to have a shirt on, though.”
You flush when his eyes drop down to your naked chest. Your hair covers your breasts, but that doesn’t make it any less revealing.
“No one ever comes back here.” you stutter out, embarrassed.
“But I did.”
You don’t know what he means by that. His head tilts, and his body moves closer to you. Your back hits the rock, your chest heaving. “I know nymphs are supposed to be pretty. But I’ve never seen one as beautiful as you.”
Your stomach tangles into knots, from nerves or arousal you aren’t sure.
“Oh,” you breathe out. He chuckles before looking around behind you.
“There isn’t anyone else here, is there?”
You shake your head, and you feel a bit queasy. Regretful, too, for revealing such a thing. Had your stranger danger warnings from your peers taught you nothing?
Something in the boy’s demeanor has changed, and you think that maybe he isn’t your handsome prince after all.
And looking at the scar across his eye, you finally remember who he is— Luke, son of Hermes. A counselor from Cabin Eleven. You had never spoken to him before— it’s a big camp, after all— but his wandering eyes whenever you were near seemed to be filled with lust. You had just toned it down to a weird crush.
How did you not register it before?
You don’t know, and as of right now you don’t care. You begin to move away to the shoreline, where your dress lays haphazardly on the sand.
Something clicks in your head — How could Luke think he was alone if your clothes were there? — and you decide that you really shouldn’t be here. Not near this pond, and especially not near him. Your relaxing day has just turned awry.
“Where are you going?” Luke calls to you, and you begin to move faster. You could care less if your underwear is exposed to him as you finally get to the shore. Your hands nervously fumble with your dress.
“Just… I forgot I had somewhere to be!”
“Where?”
You jump, turning around to see him behind you. His body drips with water and his hair is plastered to his forehead.
“Oh, you know..” you chuckle nervously, a shudder running through you. You avoid eye contact as you slip the dress over your damp body. “Just— nymph stuff.”
“Nymph stuff?” He questions. The way he says it is almost accusingly, as if you aren’t allowed to lie to him. His eyes are dark, his demeanor tense. He walks towards you, and your heart beats out of your chest.
You begin to run.
You don’t know why. It’s maybe—probably— instinct. But you don’t make it far. Not even a few feet. Luke takes after you, and before you can even move off of the sand and onto the grass he’s got you pinned underneath him. A terrified squeak makes its way through you, and you squirm in his grip. He grabs you by the neck and pushes you down into the sand.
“Stop fucking moving,” he growls, fumbling with his belt. “You dumb slut.“
You cry, your bottom lip wobbling. His cock hangs out of his underwear, heavy and thick. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers.
“Luke, please! No, no—“
“Shut up,” he groans out, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Your thighs clench together against your own accord. His other hand flips up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet panties to the open air, and he yanks those down, too. All the while, your heart thuds like a scared rabbit and your legs flail against him.
He pulls your thighs apart, and you whimper weakly.
“Oh, fuck,” Luke’s fingers play with your slit, soaking with something more than water despite your protests. “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he pulls away, his hand going to one side of your head, the other moving down to position himself at your entrance. Your body relaxes against its own will, giving up on fighting. He’s extremely strong, definitely skilled in taking his opponents down. There would be no use.
Your eyes water as he sheathes himself in you. White hot heat courses through your veins, shock on your face as he pushes in to the hilt. You can’t do anything but lay there, frozen.
Luke lets out a grunt, his face resting in the crook of your neck as he begins to move. The smell of lake water and shampoo permeates your senses as you unintentionally bury your nose in his curls and sharply inhale. Your arms wrap around his big shoulders and you let out a salacious cry.
He slaps his hand over your mouth, his voice as venomous as a snake’s.
“Don’t you dare get us caught,” he warns, a low chuckle coming out of his mouth when you clench around him. “Dirty fucking girl. I bet you want that, don’t you? I bet you want everyone to see what I do to you. How much of a desperate bitch you are for me.”
You shake your head aggressively. He smiles.
Turning your head to the side, you see the expanse of the woods and the lake before your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. He hits a spongey spot inside you that has your toes curling, and he watches every movement — the way your face contorts in pleasure, your body taking over the rejection in your mind. The way your wetness leaves a white, creamy ring around the base of his cock. The way that everytime he touches that spot, your legs shake and quiver.
He fucks into it over and over, rutting into your like an animal, hammering his aching dick against your walls and making you see stars.
You should feel guilt, disgust. But he’s so heavy on top of you, and it’s hard to breathe, and his hands are coming down to your clit and— fuck, you’re going to cum.
It happens quickly. You don’t even fathom what happens before your orgasm washes over you, but your vision whites out and you seize up. Back arching, you let out a desperate mewl as liquid gushes out of your abused cunt. Luke, noticing with furrowed brows and his mouth agape, pulls out of you to slip his fingers inside instead. The digits slide in easily, coated in wetness, as he begins to thrust them in and out. The slick sound of your release sets your face on fire.
“Fuck yes,” Luke groans, and he sounds pained. “Give it to me, princess. That’s it, that’s the stuff…”
Rubbing at your clit, he helps you ride out your orgasm, drawing out more of your release. His fingers go up to his mouth, and he slides them over his tongue. He whines, positioning himself back over your pussy, his hand jerking off his own dick.
“Gonna cum all over you,” he grunts, arousal pooling over his fist. “Shit, ‘m gonna...”
His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep moan as he releases all over your bare pussy. Your hole clenches desperately when you feel his warm spend hit it, sticky and wet. His big hand splays across your thigh and digs crescent moons into it as he rides out his high with a shaky quiver of your name.
You lay motionless, his cum drying against your cunt as he comes down. He still holds your legs in his hands—as if you could go anywhere, at this point. As if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb.
He strokes the skin of your thighs, his breath bordering on a sigh.
“This’ll be our little secret,” he says softly.“Yeah, baby? Promise you won’t tell?”
It may sound sugary sweet, but underneath it all the sentence is incredibly threatening.
Sweaty and hot, you weakly nod. He gives a pleased, predatory smile that shakes you to the core.
“That’s my girl.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
Text
If It All Fell (2)
Tumblr media
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)
a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.
Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾
Series Masterlist
~~
Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning? 
Was it significant? 
From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud. 
You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed. 
Did they move it for a reason? 
Did they think you wouldn’t notice? 
Was this even your bedroom? 
You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls. 
So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing. 
And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be. 
You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet. 
The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click. 
“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?” 
Do you remember? 
It was unintentionally cruel. 
You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar. 
Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation. 
Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode. 
Maybe you were going to explode. 
It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you. 
“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?” 
Do you remember that? 
You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull. 
Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.” 
There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door. 
They would pace one way, and then the other. 
“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.” 
“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.” 
The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.” 
A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you. 
They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor. 
You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of. 
“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.” 
She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top. 
A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it. 
More tears left your throat feeling thick. 
“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know. 
“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.” 
You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?” 
Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.” 
~~ 
You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor. 
The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.
“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily. 
The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job. 
You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that. 
“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again. 
She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others. 
Which was why you had suggested a lunch. 
You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion. 
You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years. 
But you didn’t know them, not really. 
And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence. 
“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door. 
“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable. 
Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes. 
Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—” 
“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.” 
As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.” 
Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet. 
“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles. 
“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.” 
“To not overwhelm me.” 
“Precisely.” 
Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?” 
Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?” 
“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?” 
“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.” 
“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke. 
Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.” 
You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone? 
It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her. 
That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.
Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings. 
Azriel. 
He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained. 
Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head. 
A throat cleared. 
You snapped your head up. 
“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”
“I do,” you softly interrupted. 
Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”
“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.” 
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.” 
“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.” 
You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from. 
You should say something.
Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family. 
Were they still your family? 
You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.
There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help. 
What if you were stuck like this? 
What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—
“That dish is your favorite.” 
Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target. 
“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained. 
You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him. 
“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”
“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.” 
You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study. 
Did they shove them back there on purpose? 
“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 
Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered. 
He took a bite of salad. 
“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.” 
The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own. 
“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.” 
You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.
“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.” 
Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”
Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness. 
But Azriel. 
Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went. 
He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one. 
“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak. 
At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.” 
And then he was gone.
Part 3 ☾
1K notes · View notes
atticrissfinch · 3 months
Text
(His) Home for the Holidays: A Meet Me in the Back Christmas Special | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 4 of Meet Me in the Back
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: joel texts you while he's horny during the holidays, and you decide to visit him at his house after work. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), size!kink, daddy!kink,  face-ridin', dick-ridin', ass-eatin' (Joel tosses reader’s salad and gives her a side of housemade ranch iykyk), kissing after said ass-eating, some nasty cumplay, brief fingering, kissing!!!, taking nude photos, unprotected PIV, pussy...job? idk reader strokes him off w her pussy lips, v brief mentions of cigarettes and weed, fluff??, characters actively avoiding Feelings™!!!, so many fucking stupid dirty christmas puns, reader can fit in Joel’s coat, has hair, and doesn't necessarily celebrate christmas, but is very familiar with it ig word count: ~5.2K | ao3 a/n: thank you guys so much for loving this fucker as much as me. we get into some real naughty list shit here!! i hope you like it, and don't be mad at me about the end ok thx <3 also s/o to @cafekitsune for the adorable divider! Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
Tumblr media
The days before the Christmas holiday are always the longest. The office is relatively empty, no real action happening, and yet you’re stuck here for eight hours a day regardless. You find yourself bogged down with busy work and rubbing at your eyes with the strain of staring at your screen. 
You hear a vibration on your desk and check your phone. 
Joel: Wat r u up 2?
You roll your eyes a little, but you won’t lie to yourself. You're glad for the distraction. 
You: Working
Joel: cum over
You: I literally just said I’m working dude
Joel: leave early. want u
You: I can’t just leave early. I’m stuck here. 
You huff and toss your phone on your desk, trying to get back into your flow, but your phone keeps buzzing. 
Joel: im so horny 4 u rite now
Joel: cock is all harddd
Joel: needs 2 be inside u
Joel: permishin 2 send pic???
You groan, your forehead falling into the palm of your propped arm. He has gotten much better at asking before he just sends full hog, and you’re grateful for that. 
You glance around quickly, ensuring that no one is lurking in the proximal area, and you give him the go-ahead. God knows you need a little excitement while you’re dying of boredom in corporate America. 
The picture arrives quickly, and you look around one more time before opening the text. 
He’s actually taken the time to set up his phone at the end of his bed, clearly with a timed shutter, because he’s naked, up on his knees, with one hand gripping his massive length and the other dangling a twig of some kind of greenery above it…is that mistletoe?
Joel: u gotta come kiss it now. sry I dont make the rules
Fucking mistletoe. 
You: Jesus. Did you buy mistletoe JUST for this little bit of yours?
Joel: no comment
Joel: cum over and suck it baby he needs it real bad
You don’t know what the fuck it is about this man, but he’s getting more and more dangerous for you. You’ve become much more inclined to jump when he says so. And the sight of his cock, thick and hard and ready for you has your body responding in kind. You squirm in your chair, pressing your thighs together and feeling the pressure building there. 
You sigh and respond. 
You: I’m off in three hours. Don’t you have to work tonight?
Joel: its my day off. let santa stuff ur tight little stocking real nice n full bby
You scoff at the cringey line, as used to his disgusting language as you are. 
You: Yikes
Joel: yikes what? 
You: Just everything about you. 
Joel: and yet u scream around daddys cock all the same every fuckin time dont u. dont kid urself. just cum get ur present
You drop your head back with a quiet whine, the arousal between your legs only intensifying as he lays out so plainly how deeply he’s come to own you and your desires. 
You don’t let yourself linger too long on your response, promising you’ll be there as soon as you’re off and requesting his address. 
__
The mobile home park where Joel lives is…not exactly well-kept, but you try not to judge. You get momentarily lost, but eventually see Joel’s beater pickup truck pulled up next to one of the trailers, and you pull in next to it. 
You: I think I’m here?
You confirm the number on the outside of the house and gingerly step out of the car. 
Joel: doors open
You steel yourself as you climb up the small flight of rickety, crumbling wooden steps and pull the clattering metal door open. 
“Joel?” You call out, taking in his living space for the first time and kicking off your boots. 
It’s pretty small, but you suppose that’s fitting for a man living alone. A minimal kitchenette cluttered with food items and dirty dishes, a shrunken living room with a ratty couch and a recliner set in front of a television with a chipped coffee table littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, an overflowing ashtray, and a bong. A skimpy fake Christmas tree adorns the far corner of the room with cheap ornaments, some tired-looking garland, and flickering multi-colored lights, but it does have a certain charm to it. 
“Back here,” You hear him call out from the end of the narrow hallway to your left. You shrug off your purse and coat and hang them on the hook by the door, next to his coat. The same coat you’d wrapped around yourself when he helped with your tires. 
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you lean in to take an exploratory sniff. 
It still smells like him, of course. His cologne, his cigarettes, his weed. But there’s something else. The very subtle aroma of your perfume. An indulgent smile bleeds across your face. Sure, maybe he’s just lazy and hasn’t bothered to wash it. But you like that you’re there. That it’s not just him leaving bruises and ink on your skin and a deep aching between your legs every time he fucks you, but you’ve also left your mark on him. 
Your reverie is interrupted by Joel’s voice once again from down the hallway. 
“Come see what Santa brought you for Christmas, darlin’.”
You shake your head, but your smile is still intact. 
The floorboards creak under the shag carpet as you make your way towards his voice. His door is only partially shut, so you slip yourself inside tentatively. 
And he’s there, just as you’d suspected. Naked as the day he was born, lounging on top of his sheets with hands clasped behind his head. He's got one leg extended and the other bent and spread wide to showcase his hard cock slapped against the pudge of his stomach. He's still got that tacky gold cross around his neck. But the pièce de résistance is the goddamn Santa hat placed jauntily on his head. 
“Knew you’d come runnin’ when I called.”
You click your tongue dismissively against the roof of your mouth and curve a hand around your hip. “Please. You had to beg to get me here. You and your Discount-Strip-Mall-Santa ass.”
Joel’s face pinches, tugging at the rim of his cap, “Ouch, baby. This here’s the finest quality Santa hat that money can buy at the dollar store.”
You snort, wetting your lips against your tongue as you banter back, “Shouldn’t you be ringing a shitty bell at the local grocery store panhandling for donations or something?”
“Nah,” Joel refutes, scrunching his nose in the most annoyingly adorable manner, “Gave me the boot after I fucked all the lady clerks in the break room.”
“Ah, naturally,” You nod, stifling a giggle. 
You watch as his eyes give you his customary scan from head to toe. 
“Goddamn. Look at you, all done up.”
You glance down at yourself and lift a brow at him as you jog your memory of your chosen outfit for the day. Black trousers, a button-up blouse, and a simple blazer. Nothing you’d normally bat an eye at, but you guess Joel has only ever really seen you in casual clothes. “This? Really?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, scraping his teeth over his lower lip as his gaze heats up. “Daddy likes.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” You joke as you crawl onto the bed, Joel tracking you with his eyes along the way until you’re straddled above him. “Are you ‘daddy’ or ‘Santa’ right now? I’m a little lost in this roleplay.”
Joel chuckles, pinching your chin in his fingers and angling you down toward him. “Come on, now, ain’t you ever heard that song? ‘I Saw Mommy Kissin’ Santa Claus’? We’re one and the same, darlin’.”
“That mean I’m supposed to kiss you now? I thought that only applied to your cock, Mr. Mistletoe,” You laugh. 
Joel shrugs, leaning his head up closer to you. “I’m not picky.”
You stare at his lips and weigh the decision. You’ve never kissed him before. He’s kissed parts of you. Possibly every other part of you. But never your mouth. And since you know very intimately what he smells like, you have a good idea what he’ll taste like as well. 
You sigh, meet his eyes for a beat, and then press your lips against his. They’re soft, faint remnants of chapstick clinging to the crevices, serving as a gateway to his already searching tongue. You welcome him into your mouth and he strokes at yours with an unexpected tenderness, tasting how you’d imagined. The tang of his most recent cigarette, the depth of every smoke he’s had every day prior, a hint of mintiness from either gum or toothpaste. And the weight of his tongue in your mouth…it rivals what you’ve felt of his cock when you’ve tasted it. Maybe not in size, but in sheer magnitude. 
You lock your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and drop down to grind your crotch against his cock, your nice dress pants be damned as his dripping head soaks into the fabric and you continue luxuriating in the feel of his tongue filling your mouth. 
Joel grunts at your movement, tugging at your hair enough to lift your lips from his. “Sweet as a fuckin’ sugarplum, baby.”
“And that’s not even where I’m sweetest,” You whisper, smiling against his lips. 
“Don’t I know it,” He mutters, capturing your lips again and squeezing at your ass to kickstart your grinding again. “But how about you remind me?”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm. Come ride Santa’s face.”
“I don’t remember that part in The Night Before Christmas,” You tease, twirling the ball on the end of his cap. 
“Probably stuck it in them footnotes,” He chides. “Take off your pants.”
You dismount to shuck off your trousers, and the rest of your clothes just to save time and not feel so overdressed in comparison, and he manhandles you until you’re situated directly above his waiting mouth. 
“Take a seat, darlin’. Might not be Santa’s lap, but it’ll be just as comfy, I promise.”
You don’t take much convincing, to be completely honest. You very willingly subscribe to the philosophy that if a man suffocates on your pussy, well…there’s not much of a better way to go. So you sit until Joel’s facial hair scratches and prickles at your skin, and you feel the broad length of his tongue stroking up the line of your pussy. 
You moan out a breathy sigh and settle yourself onto his face, your hands stabilizing on either side of the pillow cradling his head, and start to roll your hips against the graze of his tongue. He’s attentive and thorough as he works at you, alternating between lavish licks to your folds and circling your clit with the point of his tongue, making you gasp and your stomach tighten intermittently. 
It is a little weird not having him spewing heinous shit into your ear as he pleasures you, but you’re certain his brain is actively crafting more bizarre turns of phrase to plague you with as he eats you out from below. 
His tongue spears and you moan out as he penetrates you with the muscle, fucking into your slick entrance as you rock down onto him harder. Joel moans in return, his brows drawing together as he strives to fuck you as deep as possible with his chosen tool. 
“Oh, fuck, Joel, that’s…god, that’s so fucking good,” You whine, raising a hand to squeeze at your tit and steadying yourself against his wall above his head with your other hand. Joel must get inspired, because his own hand comes to grope at your unattended breast, working it in tandem with yours. 
His other hand presses upward lightly on the back of your thigh, and you lift, looking down with a shred of concern. 
“Just wanna knock at that back door a bit, baby,” He reassures. 
“Huh?” You ask, brain a little fuzzy with arousal. But then his nose is nudging at your pussy and his tongue is prodding at your asshole, and your voice cracks mid-moan at the blissful sensation. You’ve never had someone eat your ass before, never really cared, but holy fuck. “Oh my god, Joel.”
“Call me ‘daddy’, sweetheart. Or ‘Santa’ if it gets you off,” He offers before diving back in on the tight ring of muscle with his lips and tongue. 
“Fuck. Daddy…” You whimper as you feel the tip of his tongue breach the pucker of your asshole. The whole “daddy” thing is a losing battle at this point if he’s just going to push for it each time, and you might as well lean into it. He sucks lightly at the ring of you as he thrusts it inside softly. “D-daddy, that’s…”
You swear he laughs against you as the hand on your breast slides down to your hip. And you can’t help yourself, you dip your hand below your stomach to play with your clit to build upon the pressure Joel is stoking in your belly. The hand on your waist inches inward until his thick, wide thumb is sliding into your cunt, fucking you in time with the thrust of his tongue in your ass. 
“Oh, god, daddy, I’m gonna come,” You whine, increasing the pace on the sensitive bud of your pussy. Joel growls between your cheeks, sucking and fucking you until you buck up into your hand with a shout and your pussy beats against the pads of your fingers. You feel your ass squeeze around his tongue, your cunt around his thumb, and Joel grunts as he coaxes you through your orgasm. And he doesn’t stop until you physically pull yourself off his face and fingers and collapse onto his chest. 
“Oh fuck,” You pant, your mouth agape and dragging against the sheen of sweat on his skin. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“Not one goddamn motherfucker has eaten your ass?” Joel asks, his voice appalled but delightfully raspy and wrecked. “That’s a fuckin’ crime against humanity. That’s a perfect fuckin’ ass.”
“You probably wouldn’t be surprised how many men don’t give a fuck about going down on a woman’s pussy, let alone their ass.”
“Fuckin’ absurd,” He mumbles, smacking his hand on your asscheek and gripping it under his fingers. “Ass deserves to get fucked every which way.”
You shake your head vehemently. “You’re not fucking my ass with that third arm between your legs,” You shut him down immediately. “I’d never shit normally again.”
Joel rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “We’ll just table that for now.”
“No,” You protest, slapping his chest, “Not tabling. It’s buried. Six feet under.”
“Alright, alright,” Joel concedes with a chuckle, gripping the back of your leg and hitching it at his waist. “Guess that snatch is still plenty tight for me, ain’t it?” He says, latching onto your lips, sucking your response off your tongue. It’s only after he’s invaded your mouth entirely that you recall where he’s just been, but the dizziness in your mind has you shoving that knowledge as far back as you possibly can. 
“And what about me?” He nips at your lip with a grin. “You wanna lick Santa’s big candy cane?”
“God,” You huff out with a smile of your own, your forehead dropping onto his chest. 
“Or would you rather just take a ride on his North Pole, huh?”
“You know, I almost respect your commitment to this bit.”
“What bit? Can’t a guy just get in the holiday spirit with his little hoe, hoe, hoe?”
“Ok,” You groan, pushing yourself off of him to get up from the bed. 
“Woah, now, hold on,” He protests, a strong hand circling your arm and gently tugging you back. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere yet.”
“Why? I got what I wanted,” You shrug, sitting back down beside him and laying a hand on his chest. “Santa is seeming a little selfish right now. Isn’t it the season of giving?”
“Season of givin’ you this dick, maybe,” He retorts, pulling you onto his mouth again, and you groan against him. He croons at you as his lips brush yours, “Let me fill that stockin’ like I said I would. Show you what Santa’s got for you in his big sack.”
“I already know it’s coal. Can’t be anything else when I’ve been letting a strange old man hit it this often,” You say, wending a hand down south to wrap around what you can of his cock, and grinning with pride when you see his eyes pull toward the back of his head as you start to stroke him. 
“Well, that’s because I know all the best puss is on the naughty list, don’t I?” He groans, thrusting into your hand. “You don’t think Santa gets his little helpers from the Nice List, do ya?”
“Guess you got me there,” You concede, leaning down to taste him again. He moans into your mouth as you jerk him, and the sound of him so desperate and horny has your pussy thirsting after him again. 
“Climb back on top, little sugarplum. Let Santa deck those fuckin’ halls of yours,” He breathes over you, and you don’t even question it, you just swing your leg over his hips and settle the lips of your pussy onto the length of him. You skate your soaked core up and down the underside of his cock as it rests against his stomach and dip your thumb into his tip to simultaneously massage his frenulum with his own wetness. 
“Christ,” He pants out, clamping a hand onto your hip to push and pull you up and down the outside of his cock. “I could fuckin’ come from just this, baby. But I need to fuck this nasty little slit.”
“What, no dirty holiday-themed pun for that one?” You smirk as you take hold of his length and position him at your entrance. 
“Just eager to fill you with all my Christmas spirit, darlin’,” He rasps, squeezing at your hips and stroking the creases of your thighs with his thumbs. 
“There it is,” You quip as you sink down onto him slowly, your mouth dropping open as he…well, he does a damn good job filling you with that colossal Christmas spirit. And as your ass sits flush with his thighs and his cock kisses your cervix, you have to admit…you’re feeling pretty goddamn jolly. 
The ease of which your body welcomes Joel inside you now has you equal parts comforted and terrified. If you’d have told that naïve, reckless young woman who flashed her tits at a convenience store clerk that you’d soon be hurrying over to that man’s dilapidated single-wide in a sketchily quaint trailer park, sitting on his monster of a cock like it’s an old friend, bantering with him about his stupid fucking puns…you might’ve had to admit yourself somewhere. 
But the way he fills you, makes space for himself within you, makes you feel like you’re the most velvety, divine cunt he’s ever sunk into, it sends tingles up your spine and a pulsing in your pussy. 
“Shit, baby. Lookin’ like a star on top of a goddamn Christmas tree with my big trunk shoved up inside you. ‘Cept you got these sexy little ornaments,” He coos, cupping your tits again and fiddling with your nipples between his knuckles as he gropes at them. 
“Play with them a bit more,” You moan, grinding on his cock and feeling it drag against your walls, “Maybe I’ll light up for you.”
Joel smiles wide, massaging your breasts with rough, dexterous hands. “Look pretty bright already to me with this cock rammed up your tight little cunt. Got you glowin’ with it, baby.”
“Shut up,” You brush off, embarrassment heating your cheeks as your hips begin to rise and fall onto him. “The glow just comes naturally. Nothing to do with you.”
“Sure, sugarplum. All you,” He placates, leaning up to suck one of your peaked buds between his teeth. You gasp as he grazes over it, pinching the other in his hand as his upward movement causes his dick to drag along your cervix. 
“Oh my god,” You keen, toppling forward onto his chest and burying your face into his neck. Joel’s hands glide around to your back, holding you against him and using his new leverage to thrust into you from below. 
“That too much cock for you, baby?” He sings in your ear as you clench around him. “‘S it overflowin’ your little stocking? Rippin’ at your seams?”
“‘S deep,” You manage to whine breathily. “So fucking deep, daddy.”
“I know, little sugarplum. Daddy gets real fuckin’ deep, don’t he? So good at takin’ all this cock, baby.”
You whimper into his neck, your nails scraping down his back as he fucks you open on his lap. Your clit grazes against him and you can feel your release climbing again as he continues to pound into you. 
“You’re not gonna come again are you? Slutty fuckin’ thing. Can’t help but squirt all over this massive cock, huh?”
“C-can’t help—fuck, daddy, I can’t,” You cry, your teeth scraping at his neck as you grind your clit against him. 
“Yeah, fuck, baby. Make a mess around daddy’s cock,” He orders as he thrusts, pulling your hips down onto his length. 
Your vision starts to shimmer around the edges as he slams into the end of you, and you feel yourself splintering open, losing all grip you have on yourself. You burst apart around him with an inexcusably loud, animalistic scream, one sure to spark gossip among Joel’s neighbors for days to come. 
“Fuck yeah, such a nasty fuckin’ slut. Feel you soakin’ my cock, baby,” He grunts, your juices flowing out of your pussy and down his balls as he fucks you through your orgasm. 
And you can’t seem to get anything else other than “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” for a good thirty seconds. Joel seems to revel in that, encouraging it as his cock keeps splitting you open. 
“Yeah, that’s right, tell me who’s makin’ you feel so fuckin’ good. Who’s big dick keeps you fallin’ apart like this. Good fuckin’ girl.”
Joel has no intention of letting you rest as he chases after his own completion, and his hips start to hammer up into you as he edges closer. 
“Fuck, I’m close. You want me to come down your fuckin’ chimney, little sugarplum? Give you a real fuckin’ white Christmas?” He grunts as his fingers dig into your hips and his cock pounds against your walls. 
You squeak out some semblance of an answer, unintelligible, and bear the brunt of his cock seeking its release. 
“You know what I want, darlin’? Want you to jerk off my cock with those pussy lips like you were before. You do that for daddy?”
You whimper and nod into his neck, and you gasp when his length slips out of you entirely and he drops you on top of him. 
“Grind on it, baby. Stroke daddy off with that drippy little fuckhole,” He instructs, helping to guide your hips back and forth. 
You undulate your hips on the exterior of his cock as you stay buried in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily into his sweaty skin. 
“Let daddy see you, sugarplum,” He urges, pushing you up by the shoulder until you’re upright. 
You position your hands behind you and fall back onto them, giving Joel an unobscured view of your movement on him with the strength you’ve regained since your disorienting release. Your lips glide along him effortlessly with the ample supply of your own slick and come. Joel starts to jerk you forcefully back and forth on his cock with hands on your hips, like a ragdoll, until his grunts morph into deeper moans. 
He finally comes with a slew of curses, his spend spitting from his cock directly onto his stomach and throughout the hair smattered on the skin there. You slide on his length until his hips buck with sensitivity and you slow to a halt, panting and staring down at the mess you’ve both made on his abdomen. 
“So fuckin’ good for me, baby. Shit,” He groans out, stroking his hands down your slick thighs. 
“That was…kind of incredible,” You breathe, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. 
“‘S’all you, baby. ‘S’all you,” He praises, and actually seeming to mean it this time. 
You smirk slightly as you swipe a finger through his semen and pop it into your mouth, moaning around it. 
“Fuck me, sweetheart. That’s…that’s a fuckin’ sight,” He sighs, dimpling your thighs with his fingers. “How about you go for another little ride on daddy’s tummy, huh?”
You quirk a lazy eyebrow at him and then drop your gaze to the mess on his stomach. 
“Come on, sugarplum,” Joel rasps, nudging your thighs forward until you’re hovering over the puddle of his come, “Dip your cookie in Santa’s milk. Just like that.”
And you’re too far gone to even unpack the weird shit he just said, you just lower yourself down onto his soiled belly until you feel it seep through your folds. Your hips move almost on autopilot, dragging through the mess and honestly…feeling fucking heavenly. The slick slide of it over your core, the slip of his hair swirling in his own spend on each pass of your lips, the low rumble of Joel’s voice as he coaxes you on. 
“That’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Seein’ my nut coatin’ that beautiful snatch. Can I take a picture of it?”
You nod, leaning back on your hands again while he retrieves his phone from his nightstand. 
“Spread those messy lips open for the camera, sweet little sugarplum.”
You do as you’re told, tilting your hips up and using one hand to part your lips. You hear him snap a couple of photos and then he turns the phone around to you for your inspection. And it looks hot as hell. Your puffy cunt drenched in both of your fluids, his hairy, curved stomach very clearly soaked with the evidence of your activities. 
“Send that to me.”
He smirks up at you and you watch his fingers move on his phone until you hear a buzzing in the heap of clothing on his floor. You lean down and put your weight on your elbows on either side of his head, lips ghosting over his mouth. 
“Thank you, Santa,” You whisper, sealing your lips together. 
He moans into your mouth as your tongue strokes along his. You suddenly feel something plopping onto your head and your eyes fly open, hands shooting to the top of it. Joel’s grin is incandescent as you realize he’s rehomed his Santa hat. 
“Gross,” You groan, flicking at the fuzzy white ball at the end of it. “It’s all sweaty.”
“So that’s where we’re drawin’ the line now?” He jokes, stroking his thumb down your chin. “Looks better on you.”
“I dunno,” You impart nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t look so bad on you.”
“I’ll be damned. You think I’m handsome, sugarplum?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Y’did. I heard it loud and clear.”
“Hearing things, old man,” You dismiss, dropping one more kiss to his lips and unstraddling his lap, your pussy making an entirely unsexy suctioning noise as you extract from the stickiness between you. 
“That was fuckin’ hot,” Joel remarks, rolling onto his side and hauling you back towards the bed by the back of your thigh. You yelp quietly as you stumble forward on the carpet and feel Joel mouthing at your messy cunt. 
“Ok, Jesus. Down, boy,” You giggle, shoving Joel’s head from between your legs. Joel’s smile doesn’t budge as his mouth shines with your shared spend. 
“Sorry, baby. Just too fuckin’ tasty. Irresistible.”
“You’re ridiculous,” You mumble. “Where’s your fucking bathroom?”
“Door on the left,” He answers smugly, settling back in against his pillow with his hands clasped behind him, just as you’d found him, only sans his festive hat. 
You roll your eyes, maybe with a smidge of affection, and head off to clean up. 
“Mmm. Hate to see you go—”
“Don’t finish that,” You cut him off, not even looking over your shoulder as you go. 
“Give her one Santa hat and suddenly she thinks she’s got allll the power,” He calls out after you as you slip into the bathroom, and you can’t wipe the stupid fucking grin off your face. 
When you’ve relieved yourself and tidied up a bit, you re-enter his room with a clean washcloth. 
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” You raise a brow at him as you throw your leg over his thighs again and begin softly wiping at his belly. 
“Ain’t nothin’ funny about this, baby. Just a nice view,” He says, unbothered against his pillows. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” You say as sternly as you can, but you can’t rein in your smile entirely as you do. 
“I won’t,” He pauses, eyes flicking to your hat, “Mrs. Claus,” He ends with a smirk. 
“Okay, we’re not…” You head him off, plucking the hat from your head and chucking it at his chest as he laughs and you try not to smile. “Keep that shit to yourself, please.”
“Whatever you say, sugarplum.”
You wipe at his stomach as the conversation settles, but not for long. 
“Thanks for takin’ pity on me this joyous holiday season. Fuckin’ an old man and all.”
You glance up at him long enough to see the sly little upturn of his lips, his heavy, sleepy eyelids, and shake your head a bit as you focus back on your current task. 
“You’re not so old,” You utter quietly, but you’re sure he hears it. “As far as I know, anyway. And you can still get it up. That’s what I care about.”
“Yeah? That all?”
You jot your eyes up to his face again, then quickly back to his stomach. “Yup.”
You see him stick out a lip and nod out of the corner of your eye, securing his hat back on his head. “Fair enough.”
You sit back on his thighs and toss the dirty rag into his overflowing hamper. “Well, thanks for my gift, Santa. I’ll forgive you for not wrapping it, I guess.”
Joel scoffs, squeezing at the side of your thigh. “You ain’t ask me to wrap a goddamn thing since the first time. Haven’t heard you complainin’ ‘bout it.”
“Guess not,” You muse, your fingers subconsciously filtering through your folds for a moment. “Anyway, I should go,” You mutter as you come back to yourself. 
“Or you could stay,” He poses, gliding his thumb over your thigh. “Could play again later. I got all night.”
“I don’t think so,” You mumble, maneuvering back onto the floor and pulling your clothes on. 
“Hey,” He calls softly, and you look up at him as you do up the fastenings on your trousers. He’s got a crease between his brows. “This is just fun. You and me. That’s all it’s gotta be, yeah?”
Your fingers stumble as they button up your blouse. “And that’s all it’s gonna be. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
You smooth out your collar and take a deep breath. “Yeah. So. Thanks for the fuck. It was good. Really good.”
His eyes roam over you and settle on your face. “Anytime, sugarplum.”
You nod once, resolutely, and head out the door.  Next
Tumblr media
YALL WE HAVE FANART!! Please check out this adorable depiction of Sleazy Santa Joel 😭😭
Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!
2K notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 5 months
Note
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Please do a teeny story where buckys kitty is all over a y/n and he is so flustered about it. These pics of my cat who is a Turkish Angora. I like to think he might look a bit like Alpine 😉
I'm here for all the domestic fluff rn. WHAT A CUTE BABY PLSSSS absolutely yes your fur baby looks like such a little angel. That is most certainly Bucky's sweet Alpine.
Bucky finally moved into a new apartment. One with proper heating and lighting. A comfy bed he actually liked to sleep in. Furniture he picked out. It was a simple space but he liked it. He even got a few plants and hung up a few pictures, most of them with Sam and Steve.
His favorite place was surprisingly the kitchen. After years of tasteless mush and not exactly feasting every day back in he 40's, Bucky loves trying experimenting with different recipes and recreating ones he remembered his ma making for him.
Then there was his favorite thing in the whole world. A little white ball of fur that would slink around his legs all day, meowing for pets and cuddles, purring so loudly Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. He'd never meant to get a cat but all it took was one charity event at a local animal shelter and the rest was history. He couldn't resist those adorable blinking eyes and soft, wispy fur.
-
"Alp?" Bucky rubbed his eyes, curious as to why there wasn't a fuzzy motor boat purring on his chest while the sun streamed through the curtains. "Where'd you go, baby"
It wasn't rare for Alpine to wake up earlier than Bucky, sauntering around the apartment to lay under a patch of sun. He swung his legs over, making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for both him and his cat only to find the apartment empty and the cat door swinging.
"I should've never installed that" Bucky groaned to himself, deciding to continue making breakfast in hopes that Alpine would be back shortly whilst also wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to give his cat a sense of independence. Moments later, Bucky heard the swinging of the flap, announcing the arrival of the fur ball.
"Where did you go" Bucky cocked his head, noting the way his cat was smugly licking his lips before jumping onto his cat tree and stretching out for a nap. "For fucks sake, you're worse than Steve, running off God knows where and doing who knows what"
A knock of the door broke Bucky away from the conversation he was having, his eyes growing wide seeing his pretty neighbor on the other side.
"H-hi" Bucky stuttered, smiling down at the PJ's you were still in along with soft bunny slippers on your feet, sleep still evident on your face. Before either of you could speak, Alpine trotted over, walking right past Bucky and straight to you. He stood up on his hind legs with needy meows, batting his eyes as best as he could, something he very clearly learned from his owner.
"Alpine" Bucky hissed, his cheeks growing red while his cat continued to paw at your leg, trying to climb you like a tree, begging to be picked up.
"Is he yours" you giggled, picking up the fussy cat in your arms, letting him adjust himself until he was comfy, his eyes closing for a nap. "He was at my door this morning"
"You can't nap there baby" Bucky sighed, embarrassed over the fact that his cat was rubbing himself all over you plus he'd clearly just revealed Alpine wore the pants in the relationship. "Yeah, he's mine. I'm so sorry, he's usually not like that, he usually runs away from people-
"It's okay" you cooed at the content cat in your arms, giving him another snuggle before turning to Bucky again. Something silver in your hand caught his eyes, running and hand over his face when he realized what you were holding.
His cat was a menace.
"He left this at my place while coming for a visit. Thought I should bring it back to its rightful owner, Sargent" You said shyly, handing over Bucky's dogtags, your breath hitching as your fingers brushed over his metal hand, placing them in his palm.
"Supposed I should give this back to you as well" you handed over Alpine, torn between wanting to cuddle the fur baby more and also feeling jealous of how comfy he must've felt in his daddy's thick arms, resting against his strong chest-
Get a hold of yourself.
"Thank you, doll" The pet name slipped out on is own making both of you giddy again. "I-I was just about to make breakfast, if you want to come over in half an hour" Bucky offered, nervous at how your react, butterflies bursting in his tummy when your eyes lit up.
"I'd love that" You gave Alpine one last scratch behind the ears before retracting back to your apartment to get changed while Bucky closed the door behind him.
"I know you want a mommy but you can't just plant yourself into the arms of the first pretty girl you see" Bucky's muffled voice carried through the door making your cheeks heat up, smiling to yourself when Alpine meowed in response.
"I know you have good taste but you know I would've asked her out eventually. You didn't have to drag my dogtags there"
"Meow"
"I'm not scared"
"Meow"
"I'm not!"
"...Meow"
"Fine. But you let me handle this when she comes over"
"Meow"
1K notes · View notes
beardedjoel · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
smother - part i: deliverance
dark!joel x f!reader
series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi
summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!
Tumblr media
Save me. Please, anyone…
Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.
A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.
A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.
You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.
You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.
You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 
You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.
“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.
Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.
You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.
The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.
“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.
Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 
“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”
You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”
His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 
You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 
“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 
He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.
“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 
You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.
“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”
You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 
“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 
“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 
“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”
Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 
Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 
You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 
“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.
You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“
“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 
“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 
He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”
You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.
“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”
You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”
“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.
Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 
“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 
“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 
“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”
You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.
“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 
“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.
“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?
“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.
“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.
You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.
“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.
“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.
“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”
You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 
“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 
You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 
Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 
“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 
“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”
You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”
Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”
You shrug. “No…”
“Your family? They with ya at this community?”
“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 
“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 
“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 
“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 
And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 
Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.
He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 
“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 
You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.
“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 
“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.
You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.
“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.
You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 
“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.
“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”
One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 
“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 
He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”
“T-thank you. B-but-”
“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.
“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 
He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.
“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”
He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.
“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 
Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?
You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 
“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 
You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 
“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”
You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”
His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.
You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”
Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”
You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.
“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.
“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 
Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.
Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.
Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”
He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”
Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.
“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.
“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 
“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 
“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.
“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”
Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”
Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.
Tumblr media
You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.
Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.
His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.
He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.
You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 
Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 
You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.
This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.
You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 
He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”
Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”
You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 
“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 
You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”
Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 
You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 
“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 
You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.
“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 
“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”
His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 
“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 
Tumblr media
You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.
“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.
“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”
You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.
“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.
“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.
“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 
All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.
“What’re you…”
“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 
He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.
“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.
“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.
“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 
“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.
He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.
“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 
You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.
If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.
You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 
Tumblr media
dividers by @/saradika!
thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back &lt;3
1K notes · View notes
hard-candy-writing · 2 years
Text
'can i borrow your bed?'
perv!eddie x reader
summary: you just got your first vibrator and are eager to try it out, but your house has thin walls and no privacy. luckily, your best friend eddie has graciously offered his room to you.
warnings: masturbation (f and m), use of a dildo (obviously), mutual pining, a lil bit of voyeurism.
a/n: here you go, lovelies. especially @prettyboyeddiemunson who encourages my dirty thoughts and @izzyxplr (if anyone else wants to be tagged in future stuff just let me know) <3
You knocked on the door. It was the first time in years that you'd done that. Wayne insisted on you just walking in and making yourself at home, and as for Eddie, he was either listening to or making music way too loud to hear your tapping. One time, you had to go to his open window and throw an empty soda can at him to get his attention.
You prayed he'd have just as hard a time hearing you today.
As you waited for Eddie to answer the door, you wondered if you had time to go back to your car and drive off. It was too much to ask. He'd just said yes to be nice, but really he was uncomfortable. It had come up after you'd both been smoking... maybe a little more than you should have. You were pent up, irritated.
"You know, I haven't had sex in over a year."
He'd burst out laughing.
"Poor you, Y/N. Me neither."
"I'm so frustrated I actually bought a vibrator. Not that I've had the chance to use it."
Eddie had perked up at that. You parents were always home, either one or the other. And that thing was loud. It was borderline pornographic; even the buzz of it turned you on. The only reason you'd told Eddie about your little problem was the slim chance that he might take pity on you. God, so desperate you'd take a pity fuck from your best friend? Then again, you'd accept any reason he had for him to touch you.
One thing had led to another, like most things did with the two of you, and the night had ended in Eddie offering you the privacy of his own room. And you'd accepted.
Eddie opened the door, looking as if he had been in the middle of something. A thin sheen of sweat covered him. He had his dark curls pulled back into a messy bun, strands clinging to his throat. He was wearing a beaten white tee, the sleeves ripped off, and a pair of stonewashed jeans torn at the knees. He flashed you a smile.
"You're early. Are you that eager?"
It might have been just a joke -- everything was a joke with him -- but you still felt your cheeks heat up at the accusation. It was all you could think about that morning, your new vibrator weighing heavy in your bag. You had a little knot in your belly, which flipped and clenched with anticipation. Every bump in the road to his trailer sent shocks through you and made you clench your thighs.
"I, uh..." You cleared your throat.
Eddie stepped aside, letting you in. "Sorry," he laughed, shutting the door behind you. "Didn't mean to make things awkward. You're still alright with this, yeah?"
You nodded. "Only if you are."
He shoved one hand in his pocket while the other gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Well, I'm planning a long walk around the neighbourhood. See whose Christmas decorations are still up and all that. And I'll be in good company." He withdrew a new pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "So, take as long as you need."
"I'll keep the door locked until I'm done. Deal?"
He seemed so nonchalant. So cool about something that was very much not cool. You gripped the strap of your bag with both hands as he nodded and tugged his sneakers on.
"Deal," he said. "And relax, will you?"
"Huh?"
Eddie grinned and opened the new pack. "You're shaking like a leaf, Y/N. If you wanna have a good time, you have to relax. Nobody's walking in on you, okay?"
You took a deep breath. He was right. "Okay."
He put a cigarette between his lips and stepped outside. You heard the door lock behind, and it shook in its frame when he tested it to make sure it was shut firm. You wasted no time, stepping out of your shoes and heading to his bedroom.
It seemed you had interrupted something. You'd never seen Eddie's room so clean. His records were in their sleeves and placed in boxes, his cassettes stacked, and the bed -- God, it was made. You half expected to throw the comforter back to find rose petals and a bottle of champagne. Tingles rushed through you. He really did care about you having a good time.
You undressed, first quickly, stumbling out of your skirt. Then you took a breath. Relax. You undid your shirt, spending time on each button, feeling your skin as you exposed inch after inch. You shivered under your own touch. Over a month of trying to find the privacy. Finally, it was time.
You sat down on the edge of his bed and slipped one hand into your bag. It wasn't large or gaudy. You wanted something compact, subtle. Something gentle for your first toy. And this was perfect. You turned it on and off, testing the three intensity settings, your thighs clenching at the sound of it. You flopped down onto your back. Head against his pillows. You forced yourself to put the toy down beside you, feeling yourself first. Hands skating up your sides, down your thighs, over your tits, scratching your nails over your bra cups.
Hopefully, it's a long walk.
--
Shit. Shit shit shit.
It had been five minutes and one cigarette before Eddie came sprinting back to the trailer. Sure, he knew that Y/N was in there and needed privacy. But what if Wayne came back early? He had a key and every right to be there. Eddie cringed at the thought of his uncle walking in and hearing... that. Y/N would never forgive him.
So he came running back, deciding to guard the trailer until you unlocked the door. He parked himself on the front step, elbows on his knees, and waited.
Eddie tried to think about his plans for that night. The guys were getting together for a practice sesh at five, and he still needed to finish hammering out the last details for Hellfire's next session. They'd leveled up, and he wanted something to test their mettle.
But the more he tried not to think about you in there, the more his mind turned to it.
How could he say no to you? It was a terrible problem to have -- one he never had to worry about, given how often Wayne was gone. More than that, you were his best friend. And even more than that...
Eddie rubbed his chin. The thought of you laying in his bed, writhing, moaning, pumping that vibrator in and out of your hot, soaked --
He shut his eyes. No. He wouldn't think about that. It wasn't right, in fact it was selfish, using the opportunity to think of you that way. Not that thinking of you that way was anything new to him. But just the thought had desire stirring deep in his belly, his face heating up. He stood up, stretching. Maybe he could walk around the trailer, keep his mind off of it.
But as he rounded the far side, where his trailer faced the woods that stood between the park and the main road, he heard it. That singular buzzing that made his heart stutter and his cock twitch. Unmistakable. He found himself beside the window to his bedroom, the thin drapes drawn but the window cracked open to let out the stifling heat.
Eddie stopped. It was wrong, so, so wrong. But that only made it more fun. He had his back to the trailer, and turned his head just a fraction of an inch. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see your silhouette, stretched languid on the bed.
And you were... Oh, God.
--
You let the tip brush your nipple, which stiffened to a hard peak at the vibrating touch. You let out a gasp, your free hand playing with your other tit as you circled your nipple with the vibrator. It was on the lowest setting, and already it sent thrills through you. It wasn't the same, but you imagined someone's tongue teasing your stiff peak. Licking, flicking, twisting, biting.
His ringed fingers on your sides, keeping you still.
Fuck. You didn't want to think about Eddie. But you were surrounded by him. His clothes, his music, is scent. You turned your head, your nose pressing into his pillow, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. God, it was wrong. But it felt so good.
You couldn't hold back any longer. One hand grazed down your body until you reached your clit, two fingers spreading your folds. You were already so wet, but you needed more. You brought the vibrator to your lips and dipped it into your mouth, wetting it, as far as your throat would allow. You moaned around it, pretending it was him.
And the second you withdrew it, you touched it to your clit and gasped.
Electric shocks shot through you, a wave of pleasure rising and crashing over you. You let out a groan that turned into a sigh. You spread your legs wider, lifting your clitoral hood and grazing it again, this time just on the side. You couldn't control the moan that fell from your lips. You cunt clenched around nothing, begging for something to squeeze.
Soon, you promised yourself, forcing your ass back down onto the bed -- when had you lifted it? You circled your clit, one way and then the other, pausing where it felt the best. Knots tightened and undid in your belly, your heart racing. It felt as good as an orgasm, and you weren't even close to finishing.
Everything fell away from your consciousness. All you could focus on was that feeling, that buzzing, clenching, gushing, convulsing between your legs.
--
Eddie had his back against the trailer, palming himself through his jeans. He'd tried to resist, to keep that one boundary uncrossed. But the second you shoved that toy in your mouth and moaned around it, he went from semi- to rock-hard in less than three seconds and had to relieve some of the pressure.
He bit down on his lip, forcing back a groan as he rolled his hips, grinding into his hand. You had your back arched, your chest heaving, perfect tits catching the slat of sunlight that peeked in.
"Oh my God," you exhaled, the pitch of your moans growing higher, higher. "Oh my God, ohmygod..."
Eddie tipped his head back, eyes shut now. He didn't have to watch anymore -- God help him if he was caught. All he needed were the sounds you were making. Your quick, gasping breaths. Your groans, your cusses, your panting. The buzz of the vibrator as it went up one setting.
"Fu-fuck!" you stammered. "God, yes."
Eddie wanted to burst in. To bust open the door and climb on top of you, to show you that if you thought that was good, his mouth could do even better. He licked his lips and squeezed his erection through his pants, aching for more friction.
"More," you gasped, begging yourself to push further. Eddie turned his head and opened his eyes.
--
You slid the vibrator between your folds, and with a little stinging that quickly turned from pain to pleasure, pushed it inch by delicious inch inside of you. You couldn't decide whether to spread your legs further or squeeze them together. Your knees buckled, your orgasm rapidly approaching.
Your toes curled, one hand clenching the sheets as you dipped the vibrator in and out, slowly, savouring the filthy, wet sounds.
You didn't mean to picture him. But being stretched like that, laying back in his bed, knowing that he knew just what you were doing at that moment, you couldn't help but imagine him leaning over you, grunting with every slow, hard thrust --
"Eddie," you whispered, turning back to muffle your cries in a pillow as white-hot pleasure exploded in your belly and rippled out from you, making your whole body go fuzzy. You slammed the button, forcing the vibrator to its highest setting as you rode out wave after wave as it crashed over you.
All at once, it was too much. Your whole body twitched, overstimulated. You turned the vibrator off and, slowly, pulled out. Wetness gushed between your legs and -- unbeknownst to you -- pooled on the bed.
--
Lick it. God, please lick it. Half of him was ashamed of the thought, but the other half chanted it like a prayer. Eddie covered his mouth, biting a knuckle as you lifted the vibrator to your lips once again, swallowing it.
"Fuck," he breathed.
You laid there for a few moments, and he could hear you catching your breath. He slipped a hand into his pants, fighting back a moan at the contact and readjusting himself so that he didn't have an obvious boner when you answered the door.
It felt like hours before you unlocked the door, and he was halfway through another cigarette, sitting on the step, when you did. He glanced over his shoulder. Cool, be cool.
"Was it everything they say it is?"
You nodded, and did that cute thing where you tucked your chin down to hide your smile.
"Thanks again," you said, but he barely heard you. You said your goodbyes, and your legs wobbled as you walked back to your car.
If it were up to him, you wouldn't be able to walk at all.
The second you drove off, he stamped out his cigarette and went inside. It was cooler in the trailer, but his skin was burning hot. His shirt was off before he even got to the bedroom. He went over to his records, ready to put one on to mute the sounds he'd make just in case Wayne came home.
Then he stopped. Eddie's gaze slid to his bed, a record in his hands. There was a wet spot on his bed.
Fuck. This was bad. Disgusting.
His pants and boxers pooled at his feet, one knee on the bed, one hand balancing him while he stroked his cock. His tip was bright red, swollen, and soaked. The bed was still warm in places, especially the wet spot. He ground into it, one hand gathering the sheets to rut into them.
Eddie shut his eyes, imagining you cumming around his cock. Soaking it. He let out a high-pitched moan, gnawing at his lower lip at the thought of you licking your juices off of his cock.
He had both knees on the bed now, holding the sheets around his erection, moving his hips as if he were slamming into you. He replayed your moans in his head, every oh God and more. Just minutes earlier, you were here, soaking his sheets.
That thought undid him. Eddie choked on his next moan, hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum shot out, ruining his sheets even more. He let the sheets fall, looking at the mess he'd made but not seeing it. All Eddie could see was you, laying underneath him, mouth open and tongue out.
Let me lick it. God, please, let me lick it.
13K notes · View notes
mysticmunson · 1 year
Text
between four walls (e.m.)
a/o/b: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader
summary: when you disappear from school for a few days, eddie is a bit bewildered, until he has a sneaking suspicion.
warning: a/o/b, smut, language
an: hi friends, thank you so much for another follower milestone! i asked what you would like next and this won! i've been working on a/o/b fics off and on for a few months, i think its very fun so feel free to message me ideas about them for blurbs! all my love. xx elora.
Tumblr media
The sticky air of Hawkins, Indiana made Eddie’s slovenly curls cling to his neck, likely getting tangled in his beaded, silver chain as his sneakers padded across the rubble. The last place he wanted to be was in Hawkins High, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the cream walls too poignantly and banners announcing peer events. 
He had always had a distaste for conformity, but after presenting as an Alpha, he clandestinely craved a sense of ordinariness. His toes pressed against the tip of his sneakers, his favorite leather jacket felt tighter, and his skin felt like the fizz on a freshly opened Coca-Cola. Sensations fluctuate depending on the day with his body attempting to steady itself as his mind tries to comprehend his new demeanor. 
While every day had been weird since that fateful day last month, his friends tried to maintain normality by focusing on Hellfire or acknowledging how his buff physique made him look menacing, but things had been slightly off with you. 
Every day you sat beside Eddie, even if he assured he wouldn’t be upset if you decided to relocate to avoid the relentless teasing he faced, but you stayed. After years of friendship, you chose to ignore any conflicted gazes, opting to enjoy your company. With satin ribbons in your hair, flowy, floral dresses that rest just above your knees, and your soft skin that always smelled like vanilla from your tube of hand lotion, he felt protective over you.
So when you moved from his left to the very end of the table, each inch felt like miles, cursing himself for feeling so intensely. Always admiring your beauty from a respectful distance, he adamantly maintained the friendship boundary, learning the line and fighting to take a step over.
As he sat in his math class, he awaited your arrival to your assigned seat at the second row of wooden desks, but the bell rang and it remained empty. This was the third day in a row, the first time you had even missed a full day, always finding some hidden strength to persevere through most of the school day. Hell, you often grilled Eddie on his lack of punctuality when it came to his education. 
The hairs on his arms stood up, his foot tapping relentlessly against the freshly waxed tile below, trying to rationalize your behavior and disappearance. Plucking the loose threads on his ripped jeans, he couldn’t bother to even think of equations. 
Your lack of communication had him on high alert, resisting the urge to confront you in fear of scaring you. He didn’t feel a need to worry about it until he presented, his voice dropped a tad lower, his facial hair growing faster which left him with consistent stubble, and his eyes felt sharper despite their baby-like softness. 
As class ended with Eddie not retaining a word of information, he looked at the double doors sending sunlight through, thinking how easy it would be to drive to your house and find out what was wrong. Why you hadn’t been answering his calls, why you weren’t at school, and why you even missed Hellfire. Granted, you didn’t know much about Dungeons and Dragons and usually just sat and watched, it felt peculiar to see your chair empty. 
Meanwhile in a quiet house at the curve of a cul de sac, you laid in bed wearing a shirt a size too big and underwear, leaving your mouth open to breathe. The fever encompassing your body added to your discomfort, tears selvage as your tired eyes stare at the wall, hoping that you would be back to normal soon.
Initially convinced it was a stomach ache, an awful flu that had you withering away in your bed, flustered as could be with clammy hands. But your gut wasn’t repulsed, it was the opposite, despite your body feeling like it was on fire as you laid in your bed, alone. 
It had been two miserable days since you presented as an omega, leaving you stranded with nothing to assist yourself. The clock only seemed to be moving slower as you could barely sleep without finding yourself in the depths of another dream, a dream of him.
“I’m glad we checked on you, you look like hell.” Robin joked, walking through your bedroom door with Nancy right behind. Even in your delirious state, you knew they typically didn’t hang out together, furrowing your brows. 
“Steve’s in the car waiting,” Nancy responded to your voiceless query, reaching her hand up to your forehead with a frown. “Shit, you’re burning up, have you gone to a doctor?” 
You shook your head, burrowing half of your face into your pillow with a deflated sigh, “I feel like shit and my stomach hurts, but not in a bad way, but so much that it is painful?” You stuttered in confusion, eyes hazy and unfocused. 
Robin fiddled with the various knick knacks in your room, lifting a pair of earrings to her in the mirror. Nancy stood back, looking at you with a thoughtful expression, rubbing her chin almost comically. 
“I also just want to call Eddie, but I keep feeling like I’m going to cry if I do. I talk to him everyday! It’s not my period either, I don’t know what's happening!” You exasperated, clenching your sheets closer to your chest as Nancy’s features clenched, sitting on the corner of your bed. 
Eddie had been your best friend for years and your longing crush for most of them. Conversations on the phone were routine for you, usually playfully arguing about something meaningless or watching a tv show while giving commentary. 
“Sounds like you're presenting, dude.” Robin laughed, turning around, only to be met with your fear filled face and Nancy’s “Did you seriously just say that?” expression that Robin had experienced frequently. 
With your parents being an alpha and omega duo, the chances they gave birth to one was highly likely, it was something you had expected. The days prior had left you anxious and exhausted, believing it just to be school related and nothing to note. 
“What?” You mumbled, sitting up, breath picking up as tears welled up, “Eddie’s an alpha, right? Oh my God!”
“Hey, hey! Calm down, you’re fine.” Nancy assured, pushing your shoulder gently back, looking at Robin for some form of support.
“I just want Eddie, but I-” You whimpered, hands coming up to your face before a random flannel was thrown at you from Robin. 
His flannel. 
His fucking red and black flannel he had accidentally left last weekend, you could’ve cried when you smelt it, the pain intensifying, but also blooming peace. 
“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.” Nancy stroked your hair, even her heart breaking a bit at your muffled sadness. “Just try to relax, drink some water, and distract yourself. Okay?” You nodded, thanking them through the fabric in front of your face. 
As the girls trudged down the stairs, Robin looked at Nancy with a bewildered face, the front door closing behind them.
“We should tell Eddie! Apparently it’s fucking brutal the first time around!” She kept her tone hushed, Nancy sighing as she looked at the grass beneath our feet.
“She’s had a crush on him for years, Rob. What if something happens and it ruins their friendship? We have to let nature run its course. If she calls him, so be it, but we can’t be the ones to make that call.” Nancy sighed, opening Steve’s back seat door and piling in, Robin filing in the front.
The days for you were fairly torturous, only comforted by the smokey scent of the old flannel and the fantasies you entertained. Your mind began to run as you envisioned Eddie in all his alpha glory, which you hadn’t had the honor of seeing since he immediately goes into hiding when his rut hits.
His broad shoulders, firm grip that is free of rings since his hands swell, his plush lips cascading down your frame. The thought alone made you whimper, opening your eyes to glance at your pink phone, your shaking hands not even able to spin the dial. Your wooden bedside table felt miles away as you stared at it, tears pooling in your eyes at your helplessness. 
Part of you hoped he noticed your exodus while the other hoped things would go completely back to normal when you returned. The concept was naive, knowing there was no way you would be able to go back to a regular friendship with him, a thought that plagued you as soon as he returned to school after his first rut.
The front doors of the school couldn’t open quick enough, having not spent a week apart throughout your whole friendship. Even when your family would go out of town, you would call and talk on the phone as if he were right in front of you. 
His shoes squeaked against the freshly waxed tile of Ms. Green’s history class, Eddie strolling to his assigned seat towards the front. His chest was broader, thighs a bit thicker, and his face had a certain maturity that you didn’t recall. He turned over his shoulder, ignoring the stares from everyone else and locking eye contact with you, giving you a grin that you exchanged. 
When you walked out of class, he yanked you into a hug playfully, laughing in a huskier tone. For a moment you felt dizzy, shaking your head and pushing the unwarranted anxiety to the side. He was your best friend who you had seen shitfaced, crying at romcoms, and shared his bed when you didn’t want to go home. 
Things felt different though, never having been friends with an Alpha made everything novice. Each interaction with him made you shiver, feeling light headed with a subtle pain in your abdomen. So you forced space between you, keeping conversation to a minimum and avoiding him if possible. You assumed the pain would subside after a few days, but every time you tried to inch closer, it came crawling back.
In the solitude of your bedroom, your mind drifted to Eddie, starting with the curiosity of where he was or who he was with. Then the thought of him with someone to help him through his rut crept in, bringing a wave of sadness with it. Your feelings for Eddie were prominent for a long time, but you feared losing your best friend, choosing to have him as a pal than not at all.
You thought of him buffing up even more than when he was at school, remembering when you felt his crotch pressed against you when he scooted past, the prominent bulge gathering your attention. Envisioning the chance to touch him made your mouth water, trembling in your pajamas at the thought of his arms holding you and pressing his chest against yours. The way his dick wouldn’t fit your hand, having to use both to fully wrap around it and pleasing him. 
The idea anyone else did it made you feel sick, grabbing his sweatshirt he left over once and inhaling the scent. The seemingly innocent action made you feel like a pervert as his perfume lingered faintly on the cotton. 
Those thoughts felt like pure cotton candy to the ones you had now, of how he could walk in and do whatever he wanted and you’d love it. No matter what action he was committing, you would cry and beg for more. Even the idea of him being in the same room as you had you whimpering, twisting and turning with huffs of built frustration. 
Nancy and Robin stopped by a few times to check in on you, knowing you were too overwhelmed to make yourself food or get water. The school hours they had would usually sync with your nap time as you always woke at random moments in the night. Eddie had mentioned you to Robin that morning, wondering if she had seen you, which she attempted to deflect. 
“Why don’t you and Wheeler sit with my boys today?” 
Nancy almost killed Robin for saying yes, not because of Eddie’s reputation, but because she knew Robin was close to breaking. Always going soft after seeing you, saying how they need to just get you help and speed up this process.
So with sandwiches in hand, they sat quietly as the members of Corroded Coffin conversed about the latest Hellfire meeting. The younger boys were on a freshman field trip, conveniently leaving room for the girls to sit. Eddie snacked on the cold cafeteria food with lingering eyes on them, their skin crawling at the information they knew. 
Thankfully, the talkative nature of Gareth and Jeff derailed everyone’s attention, only noticing the 5 minutes left when Nancy took a glance at her watch as they went to throw away their trash. With freedom at their fingertips, it only seemed pleasantly ironic for it all to come tumbling down when Jason Carver appeared.
The potent bags under his eyes made him resemble a tortured Greek God, bronzed skin under the sun kissed hairs on his head. Eddie opened his mouth to begin his tangent, feeling his legs twitching to hop upon the tabletops, even though his recent development made him a bit calmer.
“Where is she?” Jason asked, not even glancing at the man beside him, locking on the girl's enlarged eyes. 
“Who?” Robin questioned, providing an awkward smile that made Jason scoff, wishing his skills developed enough to find you himself.
Jason was one of the other alpha’s at school, his rut helping him with sports and wearing it proudly on his sleeve. His progression made sense, fulfilling the family history of powerful alphas, but he had yet to find an omega to care for. Or even just to hold him over as most went into seclusion during their heats.
He wouldn’t have even known if a fellow member of the basketball team overheard the girls talking in hushed tones in the hallway, presuming no one could hear them over the sounds of chatter and clashing lockers. 
As if intended, the bell rang loudly, everyone standing to return to class. Jason kept his intense gaze until his friends yanked him away, pestering him for information about that night's practice. Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at the both of them, smelling a tinge of anxiety on them, a convenient sense he inhabited. 
“You guys have 10 seconds to say why Jason Carver just said her name.” He responded with fraudulent tranquility, his black lunch pail secured tightly in his palm, holding his ground despite the varying rushing bodies beside them. 
After a moment of silence, Nancy found herself surprised at her lack of a quick rebuttal, something about the look Eddie was giving her making her freeze. It wasn’t one of infatuation, more akin to fear as his tensity remained.
“She presented!” Robin sighed, shoulders relaxing as if pounds had been removed from her chest. Her friend smacked her arm, watching as the man across from them went stagnant. Despite the fleeting deliberations, all the girls across from him saw was his clenched jaw and his eyes diverting to the spot you typically sat.
“As what? And why the fuck does Jason Carver know before me?” He gritted out, clenched fists glued at the side of his thighs.
The bell signaling class started went off, jolting Nancy and Robin from their subtle haze, trying to think of anything to divert his attention. However, Robin couldn’t stop thinking about how you were crying for him, that you would feel infinitely better if she just mentioned the slight detail.
“I don’t know how he found out Eddie-” Nancy snapped, becoming irritated with the theatrics, wishing she was just in algebra class for the first time ever. 
“As an omega!” Robin blurted, Eddie’s eyes widening as his fists loosened, “She presented and has been a mess! She’s too emotional to do anything, just wallowing away and whining for you.” The last part trailed off, but Eddie understood it clearly, his instincts that just were beginning to sprout commencing to full bloom.
With tunnel vision, he found his way out of the school, not caring if any teacher saw him. His mind was on you. You, who had been crying in pain for him for days and no one cared to mention it. 
The way to your home went by in a blur, glad he knew the route well enough to not maintain complete fixation on the journey. His respiring didn’t cease as he sped down the old roads, trying his best to avoid the potholes or random piles of trash. 
He barely put the car into park before he was racing up your driveway, putting his hand behind the potted plant at the right side of the maroon door. With the key in hand, he was soon in, putting it in the nearby bowl at the entryway table. The house was quiet, everything in a perfect state, making him remember your parents were out of town for the week. 
The aroma reached his nose like a tidal wave, unfamiliar yet agrestal as he saw the light glowing from under the door at the end of the hall. His socks hit the carpet as he yanked his shoes off, promenading down the beige carpet with small floral detailing. 
The door opened when his hand gripped the bronze handle, finding you asleep in an oversized shirt, curled in on yourself with his lapsed flannel. A warm spread across his chest and his groin, stifling the animalistic noise fighting through. Approaching you, he pushed the hair from your face, feeling the intensity of your fever on his shaking palms.
His scent made you stir, squeaking as your body searched for the touch with the twist of your neck. He trailed his finger down the bridge of your nose, noting the small pores he had never been able to see before, trailing to your cupid's bow. 
Your eyes fluttered open as he knelt beside you, cupping your cheek gently as if you were fine china. Your pupils were dilated, practically encompassing your whole iris, and he could feel your internal heat increasing with his proximity. 
“Eddie.” You mumbled, confused if this was a cruel dream that your hormonal mind was conjuring, but he smiled, his thumb brushing past your bottom lashes. Lunging forward without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him on the bed, legs squirming with the growing discomfort between them.
As his body enveloped yours, he clenched his eyes tight, feeling the profound burst of testosterone. His stupor was interrupted when he felt a surge of wetness on his jeans, pulling away to see the slick that seeped through your thin cotton panties and to your mattress.
Wanting to avoid any embarrassment on your part, he smashed his lips to yours, keeping a steady hand on your jaw to maintain the pacing. There was no time to think about what you were doing or what your friendship would be after this, just the need to be close.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you, my omega.” He puffed as you whimpered, sitting up on his knees to pull off his shirt, initially going to throw it on the floor until you snatched it to bring to your nose. He plucked it out of your grasp with a teasing smile, putting it above your head beside your white pillows.
His hands found the hem of your shirt, inching it slowly up your body, revealing the skin he had been dreaming of. Discarding the old cloth, he stared in hunger at your chest as his hands grasped the mounds of flesh upon them. Wincing at your cry from the abrupt touch, simultaneously becoming harder beneath his constricting jeans.
Managing a way to strip them, he was left in boxers that did little to conceal his arousal, yet all his attention was on the sea between your legs. The fabric was so wet, the baby pink went to a darkened tone, making him rip them off.
“Oh, this cunt is just drooling for me, isn’t it?” He chuckled, running a finger through your folds before slotting it between his lips. Gasping, you reached to grab him, which he obliged. His lips met yours like slotted puzzle pieces, shimmying off his last article of clothing.
“Alpha, please.” You mewled, eyes wide as your lips hung open as he grabbed his length. The growl that escaped was impetuous, your nipples skimming across his milky chest, his hand stopping your jaw from when you tried to look downward.
“You’re okay, omega- Shh, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” He says softly, thumb stroking across your scorching skin, applying slight pressure.
He had always been well endowed, but after his presentation, things became more intense, especially when he was aroused. Eddie thought the idea that alpha’s couldn’t be with beta’s because it was dangerous was just dramatics, but when he came to full hardness with his knot in place, it made sense.
The last thing he wanted was for you to see him below right now, knowing your brain was already scattered and that he didn’t want to scare you. As an omega, your body was made for this, it was begging for it. It just took a little getting used to. 
His tip had barely probed your walls before you winced, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline. Though he knew you were in slight discomfort, something brought him amenity knowing he was going to help you feel much better.
Protruding further in, he slowly rocked his hips back and forth, pressing wet kisses to your skin and savoring the essence coming from it. He thought he could become high on you alone as you basked in his own scent, feeling as if it coated you from head to toe. 
“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie mustered, jolting his head back slightly when you started nodding profusely, making him chuckle and go deeper.
“You f-feel so good, so so good. Y-your cock,” You cried out, the tears tumbling down with mixed moans, “You’re so pretty and so n-nice to me, s-so nice even when you don’t-t have to be, which is so nice of y-you.” 
“Baby,” Eddie’s chest constricts and he smiles down to continue, only realizing he had inched his way fully inside when his balls bounced against the swell of your ass. A loud moan that vibrates within his chest comes out, making you grip to him more securely. 
“S-so big and full, so full, I don’t want you to leave, please.” You whimpered, hand reaching to feel his hair, “You m-mean so much to me a-and I l-love you. Thank you, thank you.”
“Sweetheart, shh, it’s okay.” He coos with a huge grin, almost laughing with how precious you are to him right now, “I love you too, I’m not going anywhere.” 
The first orgasm you experience hits you like a sucker punch, his words of affirmation being the final straw, shaking like a leaf against his firm chest. Your mind goes blank as you let out a string of noises, feeling the way he feels inside you in such intense detail. Your eyes reopened as you whined at the pain still persisting, which Eddie was mere moments away from solving.
He never thought he’d be able to see you like this, not even as an omega, just in general. Your iris’ so wide, he could see his reflection down to the small lines next to his lips. It felt so natural to be inside you, to be protecting you and fulfilling your needs. The thought that Jason Carver almost made it here made his blood boil, thrusting sharply out of instinct, before focusing on you.
“Want you cum, Eddie, want your cum, alpha. Please, please, please! I’ll be good and do whatever you say, you can do whatever you want to me, just, please!” You cried out, sending Eddie to his final straw, his knot snapping loose with a potent moan. 
Sublime existed within you, he thought, his mind going completely blank as he pumped you full of his release. Your sobs had turned into subdued mewls as your body felt relaxed for the first time in days, clutching to Eddie with your face in his neck.
Groaning like an old man, he managed to roll onto his back with you still attached and startled by the movement. “It’s okay, just get comfortable, sweetheart.” He murmured, yanking your blue quilted blanket over the both of you despite the sweat, already expecting your come down to be reasonably harsh.
To say Eddie wasn’t the best student was valid, but he did pay attention in health class, learning the dynamics of alphas, omegas, and betas. There was something so intriguing about it to him, thinking it was intricate enough to be a part of Dungeons and Dragons, when a brave warrior saves a helpless civilian. 
Even back in the freezing classroom, he felt his heart clench at the explanation of omegas while some tried to joke about it and laugh. Describing the genuine distraught they endure if they’re without a caretaker, a toy being a last resort because of how much emotional support they would need afterwards. 
Alpha’s could get away with going solo, a bit pent up and lonely, but nothing like omega’s who became practically helpless. For an auxiliary learning experience, they played a video of a female omega in heat for the room for pre-presenting 18 year old boys. There wasn’t any sex, but it was how emotional she became after just a few minutes, only finding peace when a man came in and picked her up, her alpha. They played one of an alpha, but the pretense didn’t last nearly as long as he could smell out his omega in the room from the start.
The worry that you had been in here for two days plagued him as you took deep breaths on his chest, his knot gradually diminishing. He squeezed you tighter unintentionally, angry that he didn’t know sooner, that he didn’t realize it or that no one told him. 
“Look at me.” He stated, a bit too sharp than intended, your obedience falling into place as your chin rested against his chest. Your cheeks were still wet, sniffling as the aftermath endured, looking with distressed eyes.
“Don’t wait to call me, okay? It doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed. You could’ve hurt yourself.” He exaggerated, regretting his tone as soon as your lip began to wobble, “Hey, sweetheart, hey. It’s okay, I’m not mad, I just don’t want you to be in pain, okay?”
You nodded as he rearranged you both, his length slipping out, much to your dismay. But the need to nest festered within seconds as he went to go get you both drinks and snacks, grabbing his shirt and flannel. Even his jeans joined the pile as it surrounded you, nuzzling into the cotton of his top, toes flexing in delight. 
He entered with some water, granola bars and bananas, somehow remembering they were a positive supplement for after a heat even though he forgets his own house number sometimes. Chuckling at the sight, he sat against the headboard as you shuffled into his side, curling up. Holding the cup to your lips, he swiped the spare stream that dripped down your tongue before drinking some himself.
Handing you a piece of the fruit, he opened his snack, but kept his attention on you as you looked downward. His fingers found the loose strands of hair by your ear, stroking them rhythmically as you finished and handed him the peel. You both sat contently as the wrapper and peel were thrown into the bin, but he could feel the slump of your frame, assuming you hadn’t got much rest the past few days. 
“Go to sleep, omega, I’ll be here. You’re safe.” He assured, scooting farther down so you were both lying on your backs, wrapping his arms around you. 
The sleep was like no other before, instantly submerged into tranquility of varying levels, Eddie being exhausted and waiting till you were out to fall. While you slept, your body still buzzed with nerves, still coming to terms with the new elements surfacing. 
Stirring awake in the dark room, you rubbed your eyes and smelled the pheromones exuding from Eddie’s sleeping body that you could now process. The discomfort between your legs surged with wetness, worried you would wake him and he would be displeased at how early it was. The red clock blinked at 5:43am, the sun wasn’t even beginning to show.
Mistakenly peering down at his boxers, your mouth watered at his bulge, feeling an encompassing need to see it. You wanted to press kisses all over him, around the coarse hairs below his belly and sucking on his tip to taste his arousal.
Eddie woke up to quiet fussing, feeling you twist against his chest and look up at him, shocked to see his eyes opened. He could see the guilt right on your face, to which he silently shook his head with a smile, stroking your head. 
“Alpha, ‘m sorry, I need your c-cock, please.” You begged, wiggling down to his waistband, pulling out his half hardened length, “S-so big.”
He knew he only had a few minutes before you wouldn’t be able to have him in your mouth anymore, becoming too thick for your throat, so he let you indulge in this. You wanted this, he could see the drool dripping down his shaft as you sucked him, but he also knew this wasn’t going to do anything for you emotionally.
“My pretty, sweet, omega.” His voice coaxed in a morning gruff, “Can have this for just a minute, okay? Did so good yesterday, so proud of you.” 
He saw your eyes haze over, eyelids drooping as you hummed around him, his hips resisting the instinct to snap forward. Your repeated suckle made him thicker, unbeknownst to you as the action only soothed you, ignoring the growing pain between your legs.
His hand intertwined with yours as he looked out the slit of the curtains of the window, the orange rays of the sun just cresting the Earth. Something about waking up before sunrise felt forbidden, like the world wasn’t awake yet, that this was stolen time. Time where only you and him existed.
The ache of his knot began to form as he reached down to pull you up, only to hear a yelp. He flinched, looking down to see your wide eyes with his dick between your lips. He forced his growl down to not give you mixed messages, only raising his brows and curling his finger up to him. 
When you failed to do so, he lifted you despite your begs, laying you down and hovering over. He hushed you, feeling himself throb against your pretty thighs, ones he definitely wanted to explore more when you weren’t as sensitive. If he were to love on them now, he thinks it’d feel more cruel to you than anything.
You wiggled beneath him, faint pleads escaping your lips as his scent covered you, not being able to comprehend all the feelings that swarmed you. Eddie managed to throw off his boxers, caging you in beneath him as his necklace trickled on your sternum. One of his arms went downward, grabbing the base of himself and giving a few tugs.
“I know what you need, omega.” He gritted, his tip sliding between your silk-like folds with ease, making him shudder. Somehow this managed to calm you down slightly, knowing he knew what to do, even just based on pure instincts.
Slotting inside you, he shut his eyes and moaned, your wetness helping to aid the size of himself. Your moans may have been considered singing if anyone heard the way they flowed together and he wondered if it just sounded that way as your alpha. 
“Alpha, please, need your knot. Need so many.” You begged, breaths shallow as your body began to shake, already succumbing to your first orgasm. He couldn’t help, but chuckle at you, nuzzled into the crevice of your neck as he kissed the skin softly.
“My sensitive girl.” He mused, pressing himself further to rub at your clit, making you jolt. His speed increased as he felt himself growing impatient. He could last longer than this, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to try and prolong it, especially when it helped make you feel safe.
“I’ve got a rule, omega,” Eddie began, your eyes wide like saucers as you looked up, “You have to come twice every time I knot, okay?”
Your petulant whine sounded through the room before he hushed you with his own lips, his hand going between your legs to rub at the bud of nerves. Your legs shook profusely against his hips, not expecting the added pleasure that left you speechless. 
“Come with me, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you my knot.” He growled, gripping onto the headboard to thrust faster than before, “Fuck, need to fill you up. My omega.” He watched as your tits bounced in rhythm, your orgasm sneaking up on you.
His knot shot into you with velocity, covering your walls completely as you mewled, coming for a second time as your back arched. Eddie thought he almost dented the metal headboard, his hands a mix of red and white as he let go, twitching from the intensity his body was encountering.
Peering down, he saw your eyes shut, mouth opened as you caught your breath with just the tip of your tongue poking out down the middle. He smiled, pushing the hair from your face and kissing you. His knot was still throbbing as it deposited completely within you, hoping he’d be able to keep doing this. Now more prepared for when he rolled onto his back, you just adjusted to be comfortable, hoping he wouldn’t get soft too fast and you could continue this close.
The first presentation was usually a false heat, it has all the same symptoms, but there is little chance of pregnancy. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t too paranoid about giving you his knot, since that is what sedates omegas, but he didn’t want to be too risky. His heart bursted as you settled in his arms, wondering what would happen after your heat was over, trying to assure himself you wanted him. You whined for him and he wasn’t going to let that go.
Tumblr media
The next few days consisted of waking up, having sex, Eddie cooking for you, and naps. It was like a slice of heaven in four walls, embracing the affection you were both giving each other. 
He had gone back home once to grab clothes, cigarettes, and some notebooks to work on his campaign and music. He had given Wayne a call the first day, saying he was out for the night, but would be back home soon. He hung up before he could hear the response, but knew he’d have to face his uncle eventually. They were close, practically father and son, but they weren’t open in that nature.
He pulled up to the trailer, seeing the familiar truck in the dirt in front, taking a deep breath before stepping on the damp ground. Opening the door gently, he spotted his uncle asleep on the recliner as the news played softly on the TV. Going straight for his bedroom, he shoved as much as he could in his duffle bag.
Truthfully, he was missing you more than he wanted to admit. It was only minutes, yet, he felt a pain in his chest that you were alone. He did wait for you to fall asleep as you tried to act okay with him departing for an hour, untangling your arms and legs from one another. 
How he managed to quickly pack his bag with minimal noise was a mystery, but he was grateful, hoping to utilize whatever freetime he had with writing or planning. He even brought some extra shirts for your nest as those were your favorite and his jeans kept rubbing weirdly against your cheeks. Racing to the front door, he had almost escaped as his grasp reached the handle.
“Where were you at and why aren’t you in school, boy?” Wayne grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes as he laid back. Something about his demeanor could make him seem laid back, but he meant business when it came to Eddie’s future and he didn’t want to add another senior year.
“It’s excused.” Eddie responded cooly, mentioning quickly that he stayed at your home, leaning against the door and rocking on his heels. His nonchalant attitude made the older Munson open his eyes, looking with a squint as he adjusted to the light and to whatever game he thought his nephew was playing at.
Awaiting the explanation, Eddie imagined the ground swallowing him whole, teleporting him back to your cute bedroom with frills and stuffed animals. But no, he was standing in front of his uncle, who was in no mood for shenanigans after an exhausting shift. 
“She presented. The school excuses both, uh, parties.” Eddie mumbled, the rubber of his shoes touching as he looked down at them, not seeing the way the man in front of him straightened up. 
Humming in response, Wayne sat in thought as the boy refused to make eye contact, unsure as to what his reaction would be. How does one react to something like this?
“Takin’ care of her? She’s a sweet girl, always liked her.” Wayne mused, making their eyes finally meet. While the question could’ve been interpreted in a more vulgar way, he knew what he meant. Meant that he was actually taking care of you as an alpha should, not just to get laid.
“She is and yeah. Feeling better now, didn’t get help till two days after. She asked for me.” He trails his words with pink cheeks, kicking himself for saying too much, but Wayne gives a small chuckle. Not at what he said, but at how much Eddie’s demeanor reminded him of when he was young.
“Alright, alright. Standin’ here looking like a prisoner, go.” He laughed, not really needing any other information as Eddie left within a blink. 
The drive back to your house was tortuous, practically smelling you on his clothes in a way that became addicting. With little shame, he inhaled in his shirt deeply while at a red light, the car behind him eventually honking to send him forward.
It was crazy to him that yesterday morning felt so long ago now, that the conversation with Nancy and Robin wasn’t even 24 hours ago. He knows news is never expected fully, but this took him by surprise and made him feel less guilty about getting off to the thought of you during his rut. 
He wondered if that’s why you popped in his head no matter how many times he tried to distract himself, your pretty face dewy as he fucked into you at a, seemingly, unforgiving pace. His hands all over your body and you reacted instinctively to them before he filled you to the brim with his knot.
The thoughts ran through his brain until he pulled in your driveway, grabbing his bag and the spare set of keys that used to reside behind the large flower pot. The muffled sounds of music could be heard from your boombox as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. Jumping over steps until slipping on the edge, he caught himself by the rail, puffing with annoyance.
A whine rang through his ear like church bells, adding to the ache between his legs that he hadn’t noticed before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you immediately lit up at his presence, holding open your arms. Plopping down the bag, he dramatically raced towards you while crouching and swooped you into his arms with a laugh.
Litters of kisses were left on both sets of skin, feeling an overcast of warmth as you returned to each other. He only pulled away to drag his bag closer, rummaging through it before lifting up an old Hawkins crewneck sweater, slipping it on you over your large shirt. You practically melted at the way his scent took you, shrinking your head, arms and legs until you were in a tight ball within it. 
“Glad you like it, baby.” He chuckled, kissing the patch of your hair that peeked through as he unloaded some of his clothes. It was almost comical how little articles he brought, knowing that most of their days would not involve clothing at all or would only be on long enough to be taken off. 
Putting it in a neat pile by your dresser, he dug in his bag to see the condoms made specifically for alpha’s, dreading the fact he would need to wear them soon. He decided to keep it hidden, not wanting to upset you when you weren’t using them yet. He could hear the soft snoring from the tucked away ball on its side, biting back a large grin.
Shimmying off his clothing besides his royal blue briefs, he molded himself around your frame and lifted the blankets over top. He felt your arms wiggling before a practically inaudible whimper as it dawned on him that you couldn’t feel the arm holes in your slumber.
“Goofball.” He mutters to himself, unable to help the smile and pink cheeks as he uncurls you to bring to his chest. Your lips puckered briefly against his peck, the subconscious kiss making him want to squeeze you in joy. He liked existing inside these four walls with you.
Tumblr media
taglist plus friends :) : @steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession  @imagine-all-the-imagines @fangirl-hoe @deementedforeverr @hellfire-in-hawkins @indouloureux @andvys @lilacletter @prettyboyeddiemunson
4K notes · View notes