#its a fun game until i have to look at any girls in it at all

[celiastjamesoscar]

Exile

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: you and Wednesday were best friends when you were kids, but after Nero’s death, she became cold and distant, and your former friendship turned into a rivalry. Ten years after your friendship ended, unusual circumstances force you two back together.

Trope: childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Warnings: small violent at beginning, angst, death of Nero. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 12.3K (what’s a word count?)

The sound of children laughing rang throughout the woods on a crisp fall morning. The trees were beautiful vibrant colors that painted the landscape with shades of fiery red, golden yellow, and earthly orange. The crisp air that one could taste in their lungs carried a gentle rustling of fallen leaves while the scent of decaying foliage filled the atmosphere. The ground was adorned with a carpet of fallen leaves that created a soft crunch when the two children ran through the serene woodland.

Even though one child chased the other with a small ax, the two had the same fun. The one with the ax was a taller girl with jet-black twin braids who wore all-black clothing, expert for her white collar shirt. She wore a giant smile on her face as she chased her best friend, Y/N.

You were shorter than Wednesday but had just as much fire in you as Wednesday did. Where Wednesday’s eyes were as black as night, you had a gray and green eye that you used to hide behind sunglasses until Wednesday told you they were the most beautiful things in the world, “You shouldn’t hide what separates you from others, Y/N. Especially if it makes you all the more beautiful.”

You wore brighter colors than Wednesday, but you both shared a love for darkness. You were nothing without Wednesday, just as Wednesday was nothing without you.

The two made an odd pair, but one was never seen without the other. There were times when Morticia had to pry her daughter away from you to find that you had snuck back over sometime in the moonlight. Whenever Wednesday would practice her cello, she would invite you to play the piano, and together you two would create the most heavenly sound that would make angels cry. The contrast was there, but they fit together like puzzle pieces.

As they ran through the woods, you tripped on a small branch and fell to the ground, causing worry to overtake Wednesday as she sprinted to the fallen girl. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Wednesday asked as she knelt beside her friend, but her worry quickly disappeared when you sprang up and tackled her to the ground. You removed the ax from the taller girl’s grasp and held it to her neck. “I appear to be the victor,” you said with a giant smile contrasting Wednesday’s grim expression.

Wednesday leaned up and shoved you off her as she stood up and brushed herself off. “That’s hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday replied dryly as she helped you off the ground.

“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you shot back while standing up. You lived for the playful banter with Wednesday and would rather lose your tongue than go without annoying Wednesday for a day. You handed Wednesday the ax back so she could be the Hunter again, and she placed it in its holster on her hip.

As you two were getting ready to start a new game, a voice rattled the trees around you, “Wednesday! Y/N! Time to come home!” The two shared a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously; they both hated it when Morticia ruined their fun, but they started their walk back to the house nonetheless.

As they walked, Wednesday felt bold and pulled you into a headlock and brought the smaller girl’s head against her ribcage. You didn’t even have time to protest before you felt Wednesday’s knuckles dig into your scalp. You squirmed against Wednesday’s hold, but it was useless; the taller girl was stronger than you. So, you did what any sane person would do; you bit down on Wednesday’s forearm that was keeping you in place. Not enough to hurt the assailant, but just enough to let go of you. And just as you predicted, Wednesday let go of you and grabbed the area that the smaller girl just bit. “Why did you do that?” Wednesday questioned as she rubbed her arm back and forth.

“Uh, because I can?” You retorted as you motioned with her hand, giving Wednesday an attitude that the other girl scoffed at. “Let us go, my compact companion; we have tasks at hand,” Wednesday said as she grabbed your hand, and the two ran back to the Addams’ residence together.

“You have to stop calling me that,” you whined. Wednesday had her collection of names to call you, and the shorter girl hated them.

“It’s not my fault you’re shorter than me; blame your genetics,” Wednesday replied with a dry tone but a slight smile that caused you to smile once you saw it. Wednesday never smiled at anyone except you; Wednesday made a lot of exceptions for the more petite girl, even though she would never admit it.

When they arrived at the mansion, both girls were out of breath as Morticia came outside to greet them. “Hello, my little doves. Did you two enjoy the hunt?” Wednesday’s mother asked them as they went inside and took off their shoes.

“Yes, Mrs. Addams, I always have fun with Wens. She’s the best,” you breathlessly replied as you followed Wednesday up to her room.

Morticia was always fond of you; she loved how her morbid daughter seemed to light up when she was around you, and she knew that her daughter could always rely on and trust you. But all great things must come to an end.

Wednesday held her bedroom door open for you as they entered. The room was dark and cold, but it had character, like Wednesday. There were two giant windows that Wednesday always kept covered on the opposite wall of the door. There were collections of knives hung up on the walls, and the shelves were littered with bookshelves, and in the corner of the room was a cello right next to Y/N’s piano. A small fireplace was built into the wall and had a black, round table in front of it that sat only two. A black bed was in the center of the room with its headboard against the wall, and at the end of the bed was a small bed bench that was purple, Y/N’s favorite color. Above Wednesday’s bed were two swords mounted onto the ceiling; one had a black handle with the purple initials of W.A. etched into the ricasso, while the other had a purple handle with your initials engraved in black. You found the swords a bit odd, but according to Wednesday, it made her feel like Damocles.

You messed with the record player beside the fireplace and put on your favorite record. Soon, the upbeat saxophone of ‘Bop’ by Dan Seals filled the room. Wednesday rolled her eyes when she saw you recreate John Travolta’s ‘Twist’ dance from Pulp Fiction.

I want to bop with you, baby, all night long

I want to be-bop with you, baby, till the break of dawn

I want to bop with you, baby, all night long

“Come on, Wens. You know you wanna dance with me,” You said as you started making the swimming motion from the dance. Finding that she could never say no to Y/N, Wednesday rolled her eyes again before copying Uma Thurman’s dance to match you. When Wednesday did the snorkel dance move, you laughed at the taller girl’s awkwardness, and Wednesday smiled at the thought of making you laugh.

Out of breath, the two finished the dance, and they both had giant smiles as their eyes copied their lips. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked as she stuck out your hand and slightly bowed.

“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday stated but took your hand and allowed the girl to spin her.

Twenty minutes had passed when the clock on the fireplace dinged, telling Wednesday it was time to walk Nero. “It’s time for me to walk Nero, but I will see you when I get back,” Wednesday stated as she moved toward the area that was reserved for Nero and got him out of his cage, and put him on his leash.

The three walked down the front door together and left the house together. “See you in a minute,” you said as you walked away from Wednesday. The taller girl sent you a small wave as she walked toward town with Nero.

You arrived home and did what you usually did when Wednesday was away; you waited. You knew Wednesday’s schedule to the tee: wake up at six, morning torture with Pugsley at six-thirty, breakfast at seven-thirty, play with Y/N at eight until her walk with Nero at ten-thirty, come back at eleven and practice her cello with Y/N until twelve-thirty and have lunch at twelve-thirty five. The hours between one and three were filled with any ‘spontaneous activities’ Wednesday might want to do, and at four, she read until five, had dinner at six, and did nightly torturing with Pugsley (or Y/N if you consented) at six-thirty until bedtime at eight-thirty.

So when you checked the clock and saw it was ten-thirty-five, you left her house and skipped to Wednesday’s. As you approached the house, there was a sudden shift in the air, and you could taste it on your lips: death had arrived. You cautiously walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, something you never did. You were always around Wednesday so much that Morticia told you that you didn’t need to knock anymore as she could ‘sense’ the girl’s presence.

When the door opened, you knew that something had happened; you just hoped that Wednesday was okay. Gomez was standing before you with a grim expression as he ushered you in. Your eyes landed on a weeping Wednesday, and your heart broke. You moved to sit next to the goth girl and opened your arms, and Wednesday immediately hugged you and buried her face in the crook of your neck. You rubbed her best friend’s back as she continued crying; you didn’t know what to do, but you only knew that you wanted to be with Wednesday.

The following day, Wednesday had a funeral for Nero, and no one but Y/N could attend. The two girls shed a tear as they both placed a flower on his grave, and you comforted Wednesday once more. Later that night, in Wednesday’s room, Wednesday had allowed you to sleep in bed with her. The two girls were cuddled together, staring at the swords above them, when Wednesday broke the silence, “You are far too dear to me, Y/N. The pain I have felt the past two days is something I never want to experience again, and I certainly do not wish to experience it all over again because of you.”

“Don’t worry, Wednesday. You’re stuck with me till life do us part,” you replied as you hugged your best friend, never wanting to lose the girl.

At just six years old, Wednesday had lost her beloved pet and experienced grief for the first time, and she knew that she would have to grieve every single person in her life at some point. So that night, she made a vow; never to be close enough to someone where she would shed a tear because of their death, and that meant letting go of who she loved most: Y/N.

At first, it was very subtle: Wednesday would smile less around you, and she would spend less time working with you on your music. It was so subtle that no one but you noticed, and it hurt you. Then, more significant things began to happen; Wednesday would purposely fill her schedule with things to do that didn’t involve you, and when you two did hang out, she made sure to try and distance herself from you. And then it all came crashing down on Wednesday’s seventh birthday.

You had a small box in your hand as you walked up the steps to the front door of the Addams mansion and knocked, patiently waiting for someone to open the door. Only a few seconds had passed before Morticia opened the door and towered over the small child. “Hello, my darling. Wednesday is in the greenhouse,” Morticia said as she stood aside and let you into the house before shutting the door.

“Thank you, Mrs. Addams. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days, so I hope she won’t be angry,” you innocently said as you ignored the pain in her heart that Morticia seemed to pick up on.

Eager to change the subject in fear of you becoming sad, Morticia asked as she led you to the greenhouse, “I’ve already told you that you can stop calling me ‘Mrs. Addams,’ My child, so why do you continue?”

You shrugged your shoulders at the comment. You didn’t know why you still spoke to the woman in a formal tone, but it felt weird on your tongue to call her anything else. “I don’t know, I think it’s a respect thing for me,” you replied as you opened the door to the greenhouse. Morticia nodded at the child’s words before whispering, “Have fun with my little death trap.”

You smiled at Morticia’s words as you entered the greenhouse. You knew precisely where Wednesday would be and didn’t pretend to look for the goth girl.

Wednesday was cutting black roses from their stem when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She didn’t bother turning around; she could recognize those footsteps in the crowd of a thousand people. “What are you doing here, YN?” Wednesday asked in a dry tone that caused you to stiffen.

“It’s your birthday, and I wanted to give you something,” you said as you approached Wednesday and set the box next to her. “I know you love your birthday, as it is one more year closer to your death, so here’s your present to celebrate.”

Wednesday gave the more petite girl a suspicious look before putting down the rose and scissors and picking up the box. It was unnaturally light, so she doubted it was a weapon or bomb. She slowly took the lid off the box, and any words died on the tip of her tongue once she realized what it was.

It was a small, black, crocheted scorpion that took you hours to make. She also saw a small note underneath the scorpion, but she didn’t pick it up as her vision became red.

She didn’t know why she was angry. All Wednesday knew was that she wanted you gone. “Get out,” Wednesday hissed as she set the box down and grabbed a knife from her boot.

“What? Why?” You asked as you slowly backed up from Wednesday as your eyes fell on the knife. Of course, Wednesday would make the occasional threats, but you had never believed them; until now.

“Friends are nothing but liabilities, and they only hold me back. So. Get. Out.” Wednesday repeated as she backed you against a small flower pot. She no longer had control over her emotions, and every second she spent with you only seemed to anger her more.

“Wednesday, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you would have liked the gift. Please, I’m your best friend, and I-” Any words you were about to say got caught in your throat as Wednesday brought the knife up, cutting a straight line on your left eye. The cut was three inches below your eye and an inch above it.

The two stood there in disbelief as neither could believe what happened. Only when blood started pouring out of your cut, and you collapsed onto the floor did Wednesday do something; she called out for her mother’s help for the first and only time as she held you in her eyes, trying her best to fight back tears.

Morticia ran out to the greenhouse and instantly scooped you into her arms as she yelled for Gomez. The man came burling down the stairs and could not contain his tears as she saw your blood-covered state.

The couple quickly rushed you to the hospital, and once you were checked into the ER, the couple notified your parents. They arrived within ten minutes of the phone call, and they were everything but calm, from questioning how Morticia and Gomez allowed this to happen to demanding that Wednesday be punished.

The two sets of parents seemed to be at each other’s throats while Wednesday tried her best to disappear. She felt nothing but guilt for hurting her Y/N, and she wanted to do everything possible to make it up to the girl. So when Wednesday got her chance to see you, she practically sprinted into your room.

You were lying in a hospital with the entire left side of your face bandaged up, and Wednesday could see some blood seeping through. Wednesday slowly approached the bed and gently grabbed your hand. As if repulsed by the touch, you quickly pulled your hand away from Wednesday’s and brought it to your chest. You glared at Wednesday with your right eye before hissing, “Get out.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t understand-” Wednesday started but was quickly cut off by Y/N.

“I’m nothing but a liability to you, Wednesday, so leave,” you said as you crossed your arms and looked away from Wednesday, refusing to cry in front of the taller girl. ‘I think I’ll miss you forever; like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies,’ you thought as you watched your best friend leave.

Wednesday nodded her head and slowly walked to the door, and turned to face you one last time. “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.”

You were once her crown, and now she was in exile seeing you out. She gave you so many warning signs, but you never learned to read her mind.

When she left the hospital, she felt nothing but shame and guilt that filled her body the entire car ride back home. She cleaned the blood off the floor before going to her room, where she sobbed for the second and last time.

School was different after that happened; the former best friends refused to meet each other’s gaze and soon found that their previous partnership turned into rivalry, constantly competing to be number one. It was an unfair competition, as Wednesday was more naturally gifted than you, and she seemed to beat you at everything, but you refused to give you. You would spend hours perfecting your craft, and when it came time for the archery competition, you beat Wednesday by a single point. Any chance for friendship was ruined when you accepted the first-place trophy and sent Wednesday an evil glare when she was awarded her second-place trophy.

Their rivalry continued like this for numerous years, always for captain for a particular activity or number one in their grade, but just as before, you always seemed to fall short. It continued for three years until you suddenly stopped showing up for school.

Wednesday believed that she had beaten you so far into the ground that you decided to stop coming to school. But after two weeks had passed and Wednesday had not seen her former best friend, she became curious and decided to stop by your house.

Only when Wednesday saw the ‘for sale’ sign in your yard, she allowed herself to be swallowed by guilt. She had pushed you too far in their competition for first and had made you move. Wednesday realized that she might never see her Y/N again, and regret flooded her mind as she slept on the purple bed bench with your sword in her arms.

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“I think we are getting a new student today, and I'm totes excited!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped to Wednesday’s side of the room. The last person to arrive at Nevermore Academy was Wednesday herself, so naturally, Enid was ecstatic to meet someone new.

“You know I do not care for new faces who share the same boring personalities as everyone else here,” Wednesday mumbled while she typed on her type-writer.

Enid huffed at Wednesday’s remark before glancing at her roommate’s work. Wednesday noticed the action and quickly sent an elbow into Enid’s side, causing the girl to groan in pain. “You also know I hate it when you try to read my work. I have no idea why you keep trying to read anything; you know the result,” Wednesday stated as she continued typing.

“Whatever. Just humor me for a moment,” Enid said as she put some space between her and Wednesday, avoiding any elbows that might be sent her way. “I will not humor you but continue.”

“So, from what my sources tell me, she’s from Italy, not like the normal part of Italy, but the mob part!” Enid informed while using her hands to talk.

“Enid, just because someone is from Sicily doesn’t mean they are in the mob. And if she is, I would like to interrogate her about it; it could add a new element to my novel,” Wednesday said.

The brighter girl walked to her side of the room and grabbed her phone. When she picked it up, she made an obnoxious sound before sprinting to Wednesday. “She’s here Wednesday. You have to come and meet her!” Enid exclaimed as she lightly pulled on Wednesday’s arm, causing her to receive a death glare, but she allowed herself to be drawn from her seat.

The two quickly walked down the stairs and arrived at Weems’ office. “Why are we standing creepily outside Weems’ office?” Wednesday questioned as she glanced over her shoulder at her roommate.

“Because, silly, she’s in there talking to Weems right now, and when she comes out, I want to be the first to greet her. And I’ve already volunteered to give her a tour of the grounds,” Enid exclaimed in a hushed tone as if the stranger and Weems were pressed against the door, spying on their conversion.

“And what will I do? I am certainly not talking to another half-brain student,” Wednesday said dryly as she stared at the door.

Enid rolled her eyes at the goth girl’s statement; she had made Wednesday talk to someone new only once to find out that the person only talked about horses and the patriarchy. “You can glare uncomfortably on the sidelines then,” Enid replied.

Wednesday was getting ready to retort when she heard shuffling from behind the door and soft-spoken words that she could not make out.

“Howdie, friend! I’m Enid, and I’ll be giving you the tour!” Enid enthusiastically said as she attacked the girl with a hug.

All the air from Wednesday’s lungs had been sucked out as she stared at the stranger before her. She prayed to the old gods and new that this wasn’t some evil joke, her punishment for raising the dead. But when she saw the stranger smile, she knew this was her Y/N.

You stood before Wednesday with a human highlighter wrapped around your waist. You were wearing black slacks with a black button-up, and Wednesday felt a heart pick up as she admired you in her color. Where you once had chubby cheeks, they were now thinned out, and you had a jawline that could cut glass. You were once a short and stocky kid, but now you towered over Enid, and your muscular arms wrapped around the rainbow girl. It seemed like everything about you had changed, but nothing at all as well. You still had that bright smile and charming personality, as always, but Wednesday’s heart sank when she saw the scar on your eye. It took her a moment to notice it as you wore black sunglasses hiding your beautiful heterochromia.

“Ah, good, you’re already here, Enid, to give Miss Y/L/N a tour, and you’ve brought Miss Addams as well,” Weems said as she stepped out of her room and stood next to Enid and you. Wednesday nearly melted onto the floor when she saw you pull back from Enid and stand up straight, just a few inches shorter than Weems. She noticed how your smile faltered at the mention of ‘Addams’ before you played it off and plastered a fake smile on your lips. The air that was once filled with playful curiosity was one of tension, anger, betrayal, and longing.

“Addams,” you said with no emotion in a thick Italian accent as you extended your large and callused hand toward Wednesday that engulfed the goth girl’s small and cold hand. When your hands touched for the first time in ten years since the hospital, you both felt an electric charge pass between you two, and time seemed to stand still for a moment while the rest of the world disappeared around them.

Your covered eyes locked with Wednesday’s, and you both knew you felt an undeniable spark that sent shivers down your spines. Unspoken words seemed to flow between their fingertips as if their souls were communicating through the simple touch. They both felt the unexplainable and undeniable chemistry rushing back and flooding their minds as they looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

“Y/L/N,” Wednesday replied as she eagerly dropped your hand and wiped her palm on her pants as if it would erase the spark she felt.

Enid and Weems both shared a look as they watched the awkward encounter between the two girls, clearly displaying that they have a history between them. Enid cleared her throat as she stepped between you and Wednesday, “alrighty then, shall we get started with our tour?”

Your mood switched on a dime, and you instantly beamed at Enid’s words. You smiled down at the girl and locked your elbow with hers, and rested your hand gently on her arm, “Of course, my dear, let us begin our journey.” Wednesday pulled her eyes at your remark but walked a few paces behind you and her roommate; she knew this would be the start of a very unfortunate friendship.

“Welcome to the quad,” Enid said as she unlocked your arms and motioned around with her hands. “It’s a pentagon,” you replied as you looked at your surroundings.

Enid rolled her eyes at your comment; great, now she’d have to deal with two Wednesdays as if one wasn’t enough. “You know, Wednesday said the same thing when she first arrived too. I have a feeling you two will be the best of friends!” Enid stated in a cheerful tone after releasing that her roommate can have more than one friend.

“No,” the formal best friends said simultaneously and sent each other a glare, and if Enid picked up on it, you were glad she didn’t say anything.

“Allow me to give you a rundown on the social scene here at Nevermore,” Enid said as she walked around the ‘quad.’ “There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners, and Scales,” the brighter girl stated while counting her fingers.

As Enid gave you the tour, you half paid attention out of respect for the girl trying to sell Nevermore to you, but all you could think about was the more petite girl standing a few feet behind you. You could feel her eyes burning holes into your back, but you couldn’t face her again, not after everything you’ve been through. There was once a time when you would have laid down your life for Wednesday; now, you could barely breathe the same air as her without getting angry. You knew it was stupid to hold a grudge for this long, but Wednesday was your first and only love, and you would be damned if you let her see you weak again.

When you finished the tour, Enid took you to your room, which was, unfortunately, in Ophelia Hall. “O-M-G! You’re rooming with Yoko! She is my best friend,” Enid announced before looking over at Wednesday, “well, besides Wens, obviously.”

Your heart sank at the nickname for Wednesday. Only you were allowed to call her Wens when you were children, and she barely let you do that. And now, here she was, allowing someone dressed like unicorn vomit to call her that without so much as an idle threat.

“‘Wens?’” You questioned with an eyebrow raised as you looked between the two roommates. You were glad you started to wear your sunglasses again so that neither girl could see the sadness in your eyes. But Wednesday knew you all too well, and she saw how your posture faltered when Enid called her that, and she saw the barely noticeable frown that tugged at your lips. ‘My name should only ever leave your lips,’ Wednesday wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

“Oh, yeah. That’s my nickname for Wednesday. She told me that no one has ever given her one before, so I decided to give her one,” Enid said as she ushered the two girls back to her room, “Come on, I wanna show you mine and Wednesday’s room.”

At the mention of Wednesday never having a nickname, you dropped your fake smile and looked at Wednesday, who was refusing to meet your gaze. ‘Do I mean that little to you where you would erase even our happiest memories?’ You thought when Wednesday finally looked up at you, and for the first time today, you saw emotion in her dark eyes: regret.

“I love the window,” you said as you entered Enid and Wednesday’s room. You loved the contrast between the two girls and how they seemed to get along perfectly; it reminded you of when you were young and Wednesday’s favorite person. Now, the girl barely looked at you.

“Thanks; the first day here, Wednesday took off her side of color and then put tape down to divide our room. And now look at how far we’ve come! I’m like the only one here who Wens actually cares about!”Enid exclaimed as she spun in her circle with her arms outstretched, clearly happy to be buddy-buddy with Wednesday. You nodded your head, trying to push back the tears that weld in your eyes at the mention of Wednesday caring for someone else before your eyes snapped to something on Wednesday’s wall.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you moved to get a closer look at the object that had caught your attention, causing both of the roommates to follow you.

“Oh, that’s one of Wednesday’s favorite weapons. She doesn’t let anyone touch it, not even me,” Enid said as her eyes fell on the sword mounted to the wall above Wednesday’s writing desk. Your eyes scanned over the sheathed sword and fell to the purple handle before you turned and looked at Wednesday. “May I?” You asked in a barely audible voice.

You expected Wednesday to shoot you down before you even finished speaking, but the girl gave you a curt nod, not trusting her voice at this moment. Your hands reached up and took the sword off its mantle, and you slowly took it out of its sheath and set it down on Wednesday’s desk. You turned the sword over and admired the sharp edge as you carefully ran your pointer finger along the blade’s edge; you could easily tell that Wednesday had been sharpening it routinely. Your finger finally made its way to the helm of the sword, and you turned it over and sucked in air as you let out a small chuckle.

You read your initials that were still engraved in the sword before your saddened eyes finally looked up at Wednesday’s guilt-ridden ones. Wednesday thanks the gods that you had your eyes covered, as she knew her heart would have broken ten times over if she saw the sadness in them.

“Well, then,” you said with a shaky breath as you sheathed the sword and placed it back on its mantle, “it’s a beautiful blade, Wednesday.” Your eyes caught something in the corner of Wednesday’s desk, and you felt every single emotion wash over you like waves crashing onto the shore: a small, black crocheted scorpion sat on top of an unopened note. Before you could comment on it, Wednesday’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I know it is,” Wednesday spoke honestly as her eyes danced across your face while you picked up on the double meaning behind her words.

After several seconds of awkward tension, you cleared your throat and walked to the door, “Alright then, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it.”

Wait!” Enid shouted as she skipped over to you with her phone in hand. “Let me get your Snapchat so we can talk some more,” she said as she pulled up Snapchat. You smiled politely as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and opened up Snapchat, and allowed the werewolf to add you, and you accepted her friend request when it popped up.

“I’ll see you later, Enid,” you said as you opened up the door to walk out, but you stopped and turned around to face Wednesday, “see you around sometime, Addams.” As you left, only one thought ran across both of your minds: ‘I can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye.’

When you left the room, Enid immediately turned to face her roommate. “What was that about?” She questioned while staring down at the goth girl.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Wednesday replied as she walked over to her desk and began working on her novel. She had emotions come back that she had not felt in nearly ten years, and she needed to get them off her chest, writing out different scenarios of her killing Y/N.

Enid stomped to Wednesday’s desk and turned the small girl around in her chair. She grasped Wednesday’s shoulders and tightly gripped them as she spoke, “Yes, you do. Do not lie to me, Wednesday, or I will paint the side of your hot pink.”

The more petite girl rolled her eyes at her roommate’s comment before prying the hands off her shoulders and returning to her typewriter. “We used to be friends, and now we aren’t; end of story,” Wednesday flatly replied.

“I don’t believe you, I know there’s more to the story, but I won’t pressure you,” Enid defeatedly said as she walked over to her bed and lay down. Of course, she was dying to know the history between you and Wednesday. Still, she would never force Wednesday to talk about something uncomfortable, so she decided to wait it out and see if she could get an answer from either you or Wednesday first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two roommates walked into fencing class and heard the ringing of metal crashing together, and saw that Bianca was in a match with you. The two watched as you blocked Bianca’s advances and matched each of her assaults with double the force, causing the siren to walk backward toward the end of the mat. With one final blow against Bianca’s foil, you cause her to step backward off of the mat and ultimately lose the match.

Bianca let out an angry huff at the loss but shook your hand afterward. “You gave me a nice challenge, and I respect that. I hope to go up against you again soon,” the siren said as she walked off the mat.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky next time and beat me,” you joked as you started to take off your gear when your eyes landed on Wednesday. Before you had moved, you and Wednesday were always in fencing competitions, and it seemed that the two of you were always paired to go against one another. Naturally, you lost every time you went against her, but that was seven years ago, and you spent the past seven years perfecting every little thing that Wednesday was better at.

“Coach Vlad, I was wondering if I could go against someone else before class ends?” You questioned as you stood up. You knew that if you publicly challenged Wednesday that she couldn’t turn it down, and you also knew that she believed she was still the better fencer, so both of those gave you an advantage.

Coach Vlad studied your expression and determined that you only asked to prove a point, so he let you. “Who will you be challenging, miss Y/LN?”

“Addams,” was all you said as you stared at the girl dressed in an all-black fencing attire. Wednesday’s ears perked up at you challenging her, and she knew she would clear you.

“Very well, Wednesday, if you accept the challenge, stand the opposite of Y/N,” Coach Vlad stated with a hint of excitement. He loved watching the way the Addams sparred with his students; she was graceful yet coarse, which reminded him of when he was a student here at Nevermore.

Wednesday walked over to the mat you were standing on, her eyes locked with your covered ones. She wondered what made you wear those sunglasses again, and she missed those eyes she once called home.

“En garde,” Coach Vlad yelled as the atmosphere crackled with tension. The room falls into a reverent silence as the match begins. With grace and precision, you and Wednesday engage in a mesmerizing dance of footwork and technique, each exchange showcasing your guys' skill and determination.

Their moves were swift and calculated, their attacks and defenses fluid, each striving to gain the upper hand. The crowd of students watched in awe as they witnessed a display of finesse and competitive spirit.

Wednesday made the first aggressive move, launching a series of rapid lunges, attempting to catch you off guard. But you proved your prowess with deft parries, countering with swift ripostes that keep Wednesday on her toes.

As the match progressed, the intensity escalated, and their footwork became even more intricate, seeking to exploit any opening in their opponent's defense. The clang of metal echoed through the hall as their foils met in a series of fierce clashes.

Neither competitor gave an inch, their faces showing steely determination. You and Wednesday are evenly matched, your skills complementing each other, creating a mesmerizing spectacle for the crowd.

With each point you and Wednesday scored, your fellow students held their breaths, afraid that if they cheered, it would mess you two up. Yours and Wednesday’s adrenaline surged, and your focus sharpened, all distractions fading away as you two immersed yourselves entirely in the moment.

Time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity as the match neared its climax. With one final burst of energy, you executed a daring feint, catching Wednesday off balance. In that split second, you placed your foot on top of Wednesday’s and advanced, causing the more petite girl to fall backward onto the mat. You stood over her and shoved the tip of the foil into her chest armor.

“I appear to be the victor,” you said as you towered over Wednesday before she quickly jumped up from the ground and stormed out of the hall, with you right on her heels.

“That was hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday stated as she stomped toward Ophelia hall. “And stop following me.”

“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you retorted as you quickened your step to walk beside Wednesday. “And I’m not following you; we live in the same hall.”

Wednesday said nothing; she couldn’t argue with the fact you two shared a hallway, but she still didn’t like it. You watched as Wednesday threw her door open and slammed it shut with a smile on your face; it felt good to have that playful banter back.

Naturally, your rivalry with Wednesday continued as if it had never left; you two constantly competed for the correct answers in your classes, and you two refused to fence with anyone else. It became so toxic that teachers started putting you two out in the hallway during class, like little toddlers who were being disruptive.

“I had a marvelous time ruinin’ everything,” you joked with Wednesday as it seemed you two were sitting outside your potions class once more. You had your back pressed against the stone wall next to the door, and Wednesday opted to sit next to you but kept a few feet between you.

“I do suppose ruining the activities of others is tolerable with you,” Wednesday said as she looked over at your beautiful smile that she once loved and felt her own lips twitch upward.

“I know my antics should be celebrated, but I’m glad you tolerate it,” you said once you saw her scary attempt at a smile.

At the week's end, Enid invited you to her room for some “girl talk.” You had no idea what girl talk would involve, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to piss Wednesday off.

“Welcome to my dreamhouse!” Enid exclaimed as she opened the door and ushered you into her room. You knew it might be ill-tempered to say this, but you were jealous of Enid’s room. You loved the giant window in the center that emitted different colors throughout the room, highlighting and contrasting the two drastically different sides.

You followed Enid to her side and sat down on her bed with her. You allowed the werewolf to paint your nails a dark purple. She asked you questions about your past and what you wanted to do in the future. You told her that Criminal Justice intrigued you and you thought about becoming a detective at some point. In turn, you asked her what her future plans were, and she told you that if her parents allowed her, she would want to explore the world and see all the beauties she offered.

After you two had fallen into a peaceful conversation, she finally asked the question plaguing her mind since you first arrived, “So, how did you get that scar? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You swore you could hear a hairpin drop right when you felt the moment stop. It was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room and replaced it with tension. Your eyes shot to Wednesday, who was previously typing on her typewriter but stopped when Enid asked the question. You quietly cleared your throat before speaking, “I, uh… it was my fault. I did something stupid without asking for permission, and I paid the consequences. That’s all.”

Wednesday felt her heart shatter into a million pieces when she heard you blame yourself for what happened. She wanted to run to Enid’s side of the room and tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she would do anything she could to take it back, to have you back. She felt a single tear run down her cheek as she returned to her novel.

Not believing your story, Enid didn’t say anything else. She knew there was something more to the story, but she didn’t want to pressure you into telling her. “Well, I think it makes you look ten times hotter,” Enid confessed with a sly smile and a wink. She ignored how her hearing picked up on Wednesday’s heartbeat increased with jealousy at the comment.

You slightly chuckled at Enid’s comment before looking at Enid’s own scars that she sometimes tried to cover up. They were out of place on the brightly dressed girl, but it added a hint of toughness and bravery to her look that almost made you laugh. “What about your scars?” You politely asked, but Enid tensed up at your question.

“Oh. I got them from saving Wednesday last year,” she responded quietly as she continued painting your nails. She refused to meet your gaze, and you felt bad for asking about them, but you wanted to know more. “Why do you cover them up then? You shouldn’t be ashamed of your scars; they prove your loyalty to Wednesday.”

A slight grin tugged at Enid’s lips; she had never had anyone, but Wednesday tell her she was brave. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s just,” she paused as she glanced up at you before continuing her work on your hand, “my mother hates them and says I should be ashamed of myself for ruining any chance I have at finding someone.”

“You shouldn’t listen to your mother, Enid. I think those scars are beautiful, and they display your bravery,” you said as you reached up with your hand and gently traced the scar above Enid’s eyebrow. When a small tear fell down Enid’s cheek, you wiped it away and gave her a soft smile, and Enid knew right then that you were the most authentic person she had ever met. No one has ever been this honest with her, and she cherished your friendship.

Enid let a few quiet minutes pass by before she asked you about your first week at Nevermore, and you told her your honest thoughts. You enjoyed the classes but felt that some students cared too much about their social status and that you loved walking in the woods at night, causing the girl to stop painting your left ring finger.

“You do what at night?” Enid questioned harshly as her bright blue eyes stared into your soul.

“I go for midnight strolls by myself. Weems never told me not to.”

Enid scoffed at your words before glaring at Wednesday, who was working on her novel. “Wednesday is actually the reason we can’t walk around at night.”

At the mention of her name, Wednesday straightened her poster and turned around to face you two.

“Do not blame me for the shortcomings of the town sheriff for being unable to keep the people safe from his own son,” the goth girl stated in a threatening manner with an undertone of regret that you picked up on. You noticed the way Wednesday’s eyes seemed to gloss over with anger when she mentioned the sheriff’s son, and you could only assume something happened between them, which caused your heart to stink at the thought.

“I’m not blaming you, Wens. I’m just stating that you and your boy toy did play a part in ruining our time outside at night,” Enid said innocently as she went back to pairing your nails; she didn’t notice how you tensed up, and you're surprised that she didn’t hear your heart break in two. Your heartbroken eyes shoot to Wednesday’s pained ones, and you can practically read the thoughts behind her eyes, ‘I lost myself when I lost you.’

Even though you still had your eyes covered, Wednesday knew what you were thinking, ‘how could you betray me like this?’ You two were children when you last saw each other, but now as almost adults, you knew that all those feelings you felt for each other were more than platonic; it just took you two a lifetime and a half to realize it. As you two stared at each other, you felt all the love you once felt for each other return in an instant; feelings that come back are feelings that never left.

“‘Boy toy?’” You questioned as your eyes refused to leave Wednesday’s. You knew you would only get hurt by asking, but you had to know.

“It was a moment of weakness, Y/N. Nothing more,” Wednesday spoke with emotion for the first time as her voice broke off towards the end. She quickly cleared her throat and excused herself to the balcony with her cello before you had time to respond to her.

When Enid finished up your nails, you two were getting ready to do a face mask when she got a text. “Yes! Ajax just texted me to hang out with him! Is it alright if I leave you here? Or you can go back to your room if you want?” Enid asked as she stood up from her bed; you ignored the name at the top of her screen that read ‘Yoko.’

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while and hang out with Thing but go have fun,” you said with a faint smile as you watched Enid leave. Honestly, you missed Thing almost as much as you missed Wednesday. Anytime Wednesday would be away, and you were over, you would always hang out with Thing, and right now, he was definitely your favorite Addams.

You chatted with Thing over the sound of Wednesday’s cello for nearly twenty minutes as you did his nails and filled him in on what has happened to you in the past seven years. You told him stuff that you would be too afraid to share with Wednesday, not out of trust, but in fear of what she might do to the people that hurt you.

Only when Wednesday’s cello started to pick up and play a heavy melody did you stop talking. You listened to the way the smaller girl seemed to pour all of her emotions into her song, a song that was full of yearning, hurt, and regret. You listened as there was a slight shift in the music that resembled anger and frustration before turning into a declaration of love. And when the song finally ended on a note that sounded like longing, you got up and walked out to the balcony.

“That was a lovely song,” you said as you walked past Wednesday and rested your elbows against the balcony edge.

Wednesday gave you a quiet ‘mhm’ as a response as she set her cello to the side and joined you at the stone railing, making sure to keep five feet between you for homosexual purposes.

The two of you quietly enjoyed the starry night with a crescent moon above you.

“The sky is so beautiful tonight,” you said, gazing at the stars and moon with your sunglasses still on.

“It is,” Wednesday agreed, but she wasn’t looking up at the sky at all.

When you looked down at Wednesday, she was already staring at you with a tiny glint in her eyes. She subconsciously moved closer to you til she was standing a few inches away from you, and she slowly reached her hands up to take your glasses off. You turned to face her, quickly backing away, and put a foot between you two, “the fuck are you doing?”

“Take it off,” Wednesday stated in a dry tone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because this ‘nerdy girl takes off her glasses and everyone finds out she’s actually really hot’ will not work on you,” you replied with sass in your voice.

“No, it won’t because you are not attractive in the slightest way,” Wednesday retorted while still staring into your soul.

“Thank you, Addams.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know,” you said with a smile as you turned and leaned your elbows on the railing once more and continued staring at the stars. “You are my compact companion, after all,” you teased.

Wednesday rolled her eyes at comment; it felt like it was a lifetime again when she would call you that, and now you turned it against her. She had to agree with you, it was an awful nickname.

“All the pretty stars shine for you, my love,” you said after a couple of minutes had passed. “it’s from a song,” you added to clear up any confusion that might have been stirred.

Wednesday looked over at you, but you still had your eyes fixed on the sky, but she noticed how your hand slowly inched toward her own, and she picked up on the double meaning as she placed her palm over the back of your hand. She gave your hand three gentle squeezes before returning inside with her cello.

After that night, you two continued with your rivalry, of course, but something had changed that worried Wednesday. She didn’t know what that change was, but she felt it like a gentle shift in the air before a big storm; she knew something had changed between you two, but she didn’t know what.

On Tuesday of the following week, Nevermore was hosting an archery tournament that lasted all day that you and Wednesday were competing in. As the day dragged out, numerous Nevermore students were booted from the competition, and when it came down to the final two competitors, no one was surprised when they saw you line up next to Wednesday.

“I think I’ve seen this film before,” you said as you grabbed an arrow and notched it before slightly pulling back on the string. The memories of your last archery competition came flooding back as you watched the beautiful girl to the left of you grab an arrow.

“And I didn’t like the ending,” Wednesday finished as she notched her arrow, drew, and let it loose, nailing the target's bullseye. You scoffed at her words before drawing back your arrow and firing, hitting the bullseye a few centimeters away from Wednesday’s.

As the contest continued, you and Wednesday engaged in a back-and-forth display of remarkable archery skills. Each shot was precise, and the competition grew fiercer with every arrow released. The crowd of students that had formed around you two was captivated, witnessing a display of talent that would mold the archery competitions of Nevermore for ages.

As the final round approached, you and Wednesday were neck and neck. The tension was palpable, and the spectators held their breath in anticipation. You looked over your left shoulder at Wednesday as you notched and drew your arrow. The smaller girl’s eyes stared into your covered ones, and you saw the way her eyes danced across your face as if she was trying to place a curse on you.

With a shaky breath, you turned away from Wednesday and looked at your target before you slightly lowered the tip of your bow; it was so unnoticeable that no one picked up on it besides the girl who was soul bound to you.

You let the arrow loose and smiled slightly when you saw it hit the outer ring. Wednesday sent you a slight glance before drawing back on her arrow and letting it fly, nailing it right in the center of the bullseye.

The crowd around them let out a few cheers and applause as Weems got the trophies ready. “I knew you could do it, roomie!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped over to Wednesday and gently shook the girl’s shoulders. Wednesday nodded her head at Enid before she walked onto the makeshift sports pedestal podium for first and second. She stepped onto the stage for first and watched as you stood on the one for second, and you sent her a smile that confirmed everything she needed: you threw the match for her.

When Weems handed you two your trophies, you had a giant smile as people took your picture, while Wednesday bore an uncomfortable expression.

“I appear to be the victor,” Wednesday said as you two walked back to Ophelia Hall together. The sun was just setting, and the light seeped into the hallway, creating a romantic lighting that seemed a bit on the nose for you.

“It appears so,” you replied with a gentle smile as you flipped your trophy around and read the words “2nd place winner” underneath your name.

Wednesday scoffed at your comment before glaring up at your towering figure. “You aren’t going to finish the saying?”

You tapped your pointer finger on your chin, acting as if you were thinking profoundly. “Why would I? You didn’t cheat,” you said honestly and dropped your hand back down to your side.

“No, but you threw the match,” Wednesday said as she approached her door with you a few paces behind her. She wanted nothing more than to bring you inside and cherish you, but she would never stoop to her mother’s way of life.

“If I am capable of such an outlandish thing, I’m sure I would not do that just so you-of all people-could win,” you said with a serious tone but your smile told Wednesday you were joking and it made her cold, black heart ache for something for had felt once and only with you.

Deciding against her better judgment, Wednesday set her trophy on the ground, and before you had time to ask her what she was doing, her left hand gently grabbed your neck and pulled down as she stood on her tippy-toes to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. Your entire body heated up at the contact, and a smile overtook your face. The kiss lasted longer than it should have, as Wednesday’s lips lingered on your cheek as if she was making you a promise that she would one day taste your lips.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Wednesday said as she picked up her trophy and entered her room, closing the door on your shell-shocked expression. You had butterflies dancing in your stomach as you walked back to your room with a gentle smile on your face and went to sleep with the thought of Wednesday’s lips against your skin. As you drifted off to sleep, Wednesday stayed up all night writing out the way you made her stomach feel like a thousand spiders lived there and the way your hair warmed her black heart. She once vowed to push you away to avoid the pain of losing you, but every waking moment she spent without you had caused her to feel that pain tenfold. Even if she would lose you at the end of your lives, at least she would have had the honor of calling you hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The eerie gothic ballroom was cloaked in darkness, dimly lit by flickering candlelight that cast haunting shadows upon the ancient stone walls. Heavy velvet drapes, tinged with a rich deep crimson, adorned the tall arched windows, adding a sense of mystery and opulence. Gothic-style chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, their twisted metal work resembling gnarled branches, and their candelabras emitting a spectral glow. The air is filled with a subtle scent of incense, adding to the mysterious ambiance of the room as Wednesday prepared to entire the ballroom.

It was the Grimoire Soiree, Nevermore’s official gothic ball, that was hosted at the end of the Fall semester every year. Wednesday was naturally intrigued when she heard of a gothic ball and believed attending one might add a new element to her novel, including murder. Still, now, as she watched her peers walk into the ballroom, she felt out of place. Her heart yearned for the one who wouldn’t be attending.

It had been several months since the archery contest, and you and Wednesday had not talked to each other. Neither of you knew what to say, but you both wanted to say everything. You two continued with your rivalry, but there was a shift in the air when you two competed against each other, like you two were silently rooting for the other, and it gnawed at both of your hearts.

Deciding to face the music and the calling of her heart, Wednesday walked down the stairs and entered the room.

The polished black marble floors, etched with intricate patterns, mirror the gloomy setting as if reflecting the dark secrets concealed within the ballroom's history that enticed Wednesday. Elaborate gargoyles and stone statues of long-forgotten figures stood sentinel in the corners, their solemn expressions lending an air of solemnity to the space. Crimson roses, tinged with black, were carefully arranged in vases throughout the room, their haunting beauty contrasting with the darkness surrounding them.

As the haunting melody of a haunting organ filled the air, the students of Nevermore were clad in elaborate gothic attire and moved with an aura of elegance and enigma. The atmosphere was both haunting and enchanting, transporting the attendees to a realm of forgotten tales and otherworldly delights that overwhelmed Wednesday. Just as she was about to leave, an overly happy voice exclaimed, “Wednesday! You look amazing!”

The smaller girl wore a mesmerizing black gothic ball gown that is a sight of dark enchantment, featuring a flowing skirt that gracefully grazes the ground. Small black accents on the skirt add a touch of intricate detailing, enhancing its allure. The black corset, elegantly laced in the front, complements the gown's bewitching aesthetic and leads to long, puffy sleeves that exude an air of Victorian charm.

A small cutout on the chest, just above the corset, added a daring yet sophisticated touch, leaving a hint of mystery while maintaining an elegant appeal. The gown encapsulated a perfect blend of gothic elegance and captivating allure, making it an ideal choice for Wednesday's hauntingly beautiful ballroom event.

Wednesday turned around, and she noticed that her flamboyant roommate, who usually wore bright, borderline blinding colors, was in a darker-colored ball gown. The ball gown itself was a mesmerizing creation, enveloped in an enchanting dark purple hue that exudes an air of mystery and sophistication. It had a black corset adorned with dark purple accents that added an element of striking contrast, enhancing its captivating allure. Its intricate lacework and velvet accents add an extra layer of elegance. At the same time, its flowing silhouette gracefully captures the essence of gothic charm, something that Wednesday had never seen on Enid before.

The gown caught Wednesday off guard, and she believed that Enid somehow pulled it off, highlighting her piercing blue eyes that would blind anyone. Wednesday might have even given Enid some form of a compliment, but she knew that Enid didn’t need that kind of ego inflation.

“I appreciate your words, Enid. And you,” Wednesday wanted to be nice tonight but struggled with the words, “Do not look ridiculous.”

The werewolf beamed at her roommate's words, and a smile formed from cheek to cheek. “Awww! Thank you, Wens!” Enid said as she turned to walk toward Ajax but then suddenly turned back to Wednesday as if she had forgotten something. “Oh, and your lover was looking for you earlier; she said she has something to tell you.” And with that, Enid disappeared into the crowd of dancing students with Ajax. Wednesday’s cold heart picked up at the mention of you wanting to talk to her and beat rapidly against her chest. Her eyes scanned the room for you as an all too familiar saxophone interrupted the organ.

As if it was magic, Wednesday’s dark eyes immediately found your heterochromia ones in the vast sea of swirling gowns and powdered faces. You were standing on the opposite side of the room, wearing a gothic suit that consisted of a slightly ruffled white shirt, adding a touch of romanticism to the ensemble. Over the shirt, there was a black cavalier vest adorned with mesmerizing purple tapestry, creating a captivating contrast of colors and textures. Completing the look was a sleek black jacket, lending an air of sophistication and dark allure. The suit is further enhanced by a small yet elegant collar chain featuring a black scorpion on both collars, adding a subtle yet distinctive element of gothic charm to the overall attire.

Put on your Bobbi-sox baby

Pull up your old blue jeans

There’s a band playin’ down at the armory

Know’s what rock and roll really means

You two gravitated towards each other at a slow pace before picking up as your hearts quickened with excitement, and soon, you two were standing face to face. “Hi,” you said breathlessly as you got lost in Wednesday’s eyes.

“Hi,” she replied as she looked into your beautiful eyes for the first time in seven years. She had forgotten just how beautiful they were; the green eye seemed to dance with the room's lighting while the gray one gave Wednesday a feeling of comfort, the dark color reminding her of her own material home in New Jersey.

I want to bop with you baby, all night long

I want to bop the night away

I want to make it a night like it used to be

“May I have this dance?” You asked as you slowly started to do ‘The Twist’ from Pulp Fiction. Wednesday smiled and began doing Uma Thurman’s part of the dance as if you two were just six years old again and dancing in Wednesday’s room. You two smiled and joked the entire dance and felt the whole room disappear as the song drew to a close. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked when the dance was finished as you stuck out your hand and slightly bowed, just as you did ten years ago.

“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday replied when the room began waltzing to the beautiful melody of ‘Merry-Go-Round of Life,’ but she took your hand. You placed your free hand just underneath her shoulder blade as her spare hand rested upon the shoulder of the arm that was under her shoulder blade. As the music played, Wednesday allowed you to lead the dance and found herself in a trance as she stared into your beautiful eyes that she missed.

“Stop staring into my soul,” you commented as you spun around with Wednesday.

She huffed at your words and playfully stepped on your foot before continuing the dance. “I’m not staring into your soul; I am just admiring your breathtaking eyes,” she confessed honestly while you two continued your fluid movements. “Why did you start covering them again?”

You tensed up at her words but continued with the graceful dance. “The only person who found beauty in them was gone,” you said shyly as you gave Wednesday a tight-lipped smile. The smaller girl frowned at your words; she didn’t know what to say without confessing her undying love for you. So she stayed quiet and let her eyes drift over to the scar on your face and let regret and pain wash over her like waves on the shoreline. “I never meant to hurt you,” Wednesday mumbled out as she let the pain show on her face. You were her best friend, her soulmate, and her home, and even though she didn’t know that it was either you or no one when she was just a child, she now wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let anything or anyone harm you again; even if that meant protecting you from herself.

So, she dropped your hand while dancing and left you out there standing. Crestfallen on the landing as Wednesday left you in the ballroom and disappeared outside.

You snapped out of your disappointed state and were quick on her heels as you followed her outside. “Wednesday, what’s wrong?” You asked as you followed her to a water fountain and watched her sit down on the side.

She was sick to her stomach; she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she had an internal battle with her heart and brain. Her brain told Wednesday to run in the opposite direction, never to talk to you again. But her heart was telling her to run toward you, to embrace you with her loving heart that seemed to only beat for you. She felt nauseous as her thoughts bounced around; what if you didn’t feel the same way toward her? The last time you two were friendly with each other was almost eleven years ago when you guys were six. What if by showing you this much softer side of her, you reject her and use her weakness as a spear to her chest? Nearly killing her but leaving her alive just enough to continue living a life of nothingness. Your heart was glass, and she dropped it.

But what if you felt the same? What if your heart only beat for her, and you would rather die than not have been able to call her yours? All the moments you two spent at each other’s throats during competitions as you sent her little glances and silently prayed she would win so that you could see her eyes light up.

“Enid said you had something to say to me, Y/N,” Wednesday finally spoke as her thoughts ran rapidly in her mind. She needed to know what you wanted to say to her; she could not die in peace without knowing.

You stared at the alluring girl who refused to meet your eyes. There were thousands of things you wanted to tell her, but you didn’t know how. “Wednesday, there’s things I wanna say to you, but I’ll just let you live,” you said quietly as Wednesday’s eyes finally met yours. Wednesday dryly laughed at your words as her eyes glossed over with tears. The last time she had cried was because she lost you, and now, she was crying because she had finally found you. All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, was killing her. Wednesday’s hands were shaking from holding back from you. When you said her name, everything just stopped; she didn’t want you like a best friend.

Wednesday’s eyes darted across your face, looking for anything resembling rejection. When she found only love and longing in your ocean eyes, she took in a deep breath and spoke in a broken voice, “I used to look at you and see my best friend, and now I can hardly look at you without picturing our bones resting together in a grave dug for two. I left you in there because I cannot live without knowing if it meant more to you too as well. I would rather die than bear these feelings alone.”

The words that left Wednesday’s lips took you off guard; you had a speech, and now you’re speechless. “What do you mean by that, Wednesday? Are you telling me that you have feelings for me?” You asked with disbelief on your face; you needed to know if she was confessing her love for you, but you weren’t quite sure if that’s what she meant.

“The sun rises and sets with your smile. At least it does for me. You’re the only thing on this planet worth worshipping. In simpler terms: I want you. I’ve always wanted you. It just took me ten years to realize it. I’m your jazz singer, and you’re my cult leader,” Wednesday confessed as she stared into your eyes, already accepting rejection.

“Wednesday, you don’t have to bear those feelings alone,” you stated with a sigh of relief. Wednesday’s eyes smiled for her as she pushed herself off the fountain, and slowly walked toward you. She stopped a few feet in front, giving you space to run away if you desired.

“I once had someone tell me I was destined to be alone, but I would like to be alone with you. If I’m enough - if you want me, if you’ll have me - I’m yours, only yours, Y/N,” Wednesday admitted with a silent prayer.

“Wednesday, I have only wanted you since we were kids. I only wanted you as a best friend then, but now, when I look at you, I only see my other half. I would rather die than not be able to call you mine, even if it’s just for a second.”

Slowly, Wednesday stepped to you until you were close enough to touch, begging you to make the first move she has always been afraid to take. “For the past ten years, I have been trying to form a way to apologize for the way I treated you, but every time I come up with something, I only see you in that hospital bed,” Wednesday admitted.

You gently reached out to Wednesday’s hand and brought it to your cheek. You gave a small kiss on the palm of her hand before moving it to cup your cheek as your free hand wiped away the lone tear that fell down Wednesday’s cheek. “I forgive you, Wednesday. I had forgiven you the moment I moved; I thought I would never see you again,” you whispered with tears in your eyes as you brought your forehead against Wednesday’s.

Wednesday sighed in relief as she brought up her other hand and cupped your cheeks. You pulled back from her, and Wednesday wanted to cry. You placed a kiss on her forehead that felt like a promise, then kissed her nose, silently telling her everything will be alright, another on her cheek that felt like you would wait however long for her, and finally, you kissed her lips with so much love Wednesday almost died. She let a small, choked-up gasp escape her lips before gently kissing you back. For the first time in ten years, you both finally felt at home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A blanket of snow fell upon the Addams’ residence that coated the peaceful house as Morticia Addams shot up in bed. She gasped for breath as her eyes panicky shot around the room.

The action woke Gomez up, and he reached over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp before reaching out to his wife. “Cara mia, what’s wrong?” He asked with worry laced in his voice, but his worry faded when he saw a giant smile plastered on Morticia’s face that accompanied the tears of joy in her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him against her, in complete disbelief at the vision she just had of her daughter. She pulled back from the embrace before exclaiming, “Our darling viper has found someone to share her grave with!”

Gomez lit up with excitement at the mention of Wednesday having a lover; words could not express his joy when his daughter finally fell to the Addams Family Curse. “My love, this is dreadful news! I cannot wait to meet them,” he said with a smile on his face.

Morticia laughed at her husband's words before placing a hand on his cheek and stroking it with her thumb. “Don’t worry, Gomez. You have known her since she was a child.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: if you recognized ‘the sun rises and sets with your smile’ quote, I love you so much 🫶

#wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #enemies to lovers

[sometimesanalice]

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

[charmedreincarnation]

hey i finally entered void after 4.5 months!! i can’t believe my life is so so fun now!!!

what i used :

• tumblr for resources; i learnt a lot from bloggers post which introduced me to void.

• subliminals on youtube: i just listened to it twice daily but i think u can skip this step

it was such a struggle at first but i let all the tension go away for me to embody it…

what i manifested✨

height and face; i was 5’11 before but i wanted to be shorter cause i didn’t like being tallest amongst all girls and even guys. i changed it to 5’3. now i think i look like cute. for face - foxy or siren eyes, positive canthral tilt, fuller lips, no eye bags, sharper nose. i think i might play around my facial features a bit more until i am satisfied with it haha.

avatar editor irl: i used to play sims 4 a lot a lot !! since 5 years i’ve been playing it. if you play it too you know there’s a CREATE A SIM page. it’s somewhat like that but for me in my phone as an app. i can choose clothes or facial features and it changes my face or clothes or accessories irl!! if ur a shifter its like a “LIFA APP” as you’ve heard.

gaming; i am a gamer and i can enter any gaming world at anytime instead of playing it on screen and let me tell u girl!! life has been so fun since!! but dw i don’t “die” in it i just respawn and also pain setting is 0 i dont feel pain when i enter games. sorry but i also play shooter games haha, dw they’re NPC AS THEYRE IN GAME THEY DONT FEEL HURT.

be a good student; i didn’t cancel school cause i just love the drama that’s going on loll, and i love outshining people. so i just manifested that i become a good student. whatever i read once i can remember without any revision required. also be more logical to solve math. cause girl i used to FLUNKKK!!

Boyfriend!!: holy i should have put it in number one!! THIS ONE OF THE BESTEST!! he’s literally in the kitchen making me dumplings cause yk- i made him a chef!! btw i made him from scratch from CREATE A SIM lol!! i revised that he has always been going to my school and one year older than me. he’s so handsome istg!! kind of a combination of jacob elordi and jungkook? i can’t explain!! u get it tho!;) and he’s also so respectful to women ! oml! almost opposite of those red pilled men (yuck!!!)

friend group: theyre so kind and diverse!! it’s vast !! (17 people incl me) and everyone is so amazing kind talented and everyone’s from a diff countries!!

language : i can speak korean now, fluently!

there is so many other minor things but these r my faveee!!! ty ty ty for reading and all the bloggers who have helped us.

and if u haven’t entered, what r u even thinking! u have and you’ll change ur life in a split second like me!! don’t worry about taking too much time luvzzz!!

seee u!!!!

So happy for you love 💕 congrats, and thank you for the tips. Also you’re real for making your bf from scratch 😭😭

#law of assumption #manifesation #void state #void success

[visionsofmagic]

◜ mk1 men using their powers while f*cking you ◞

▸ includes: reptile, sub zero, scorpion [mk1 versions] ◂

▸ tags: nsfw content, explicit language, inappropriate usage of power/abilities, f!reader, kind of drabble, short, canon as possible as I can, licking, watching, petnames, fingering, edging, human form!syzoth, rude and sharp!sub zero, lover!mk1 characters, brat!reader, heat, cold. enjoy! ◂

▸ notes: watched 4+ hours cutscenes of mortal kombat 1 game and well, kind of fall in love with 80% of mk1 characters, so, couldn't help but write for a few of my fav characters from the game. requests open for the mk1 characters as well & have fun while reading, thank u! ^^ [can publish part 2 of this if you would like too!]

REPTILE is a shy lover. he finds himself trying to hide his nature whenever you two have sex not to hurt you because he knows you’re still fragile even though you try to believe otherwise. he never transforms into his reptile form while fucking you, so hard for him to do that but he would rather endure than hurting you in any way. however, that doesn’t mean he lacks fun and any sort of kinks in sex, no, contrary to that, syzoth has a kinky personality that allows him to like watching you, both as general and in bed - he can’t help, especially not when you’re so beautiful leaning on the bed you two are sharing, trying to give yourself pleasure with your fingers while screaming his name because he is away for a mission as you still believe - not knowing when he will return but here he is, standing right in front of you, watching how your fingers disappear inside your folds, going in and out, mouth agape, moaning his name over and over again as if they’re his fingers - or even his cock inside your walls. he likes how you miss him enough to do all of these. 

invisible to your eyes, he watches you until he’s sure you’re so close to the edge, then, chuckling teasingly, he appears slowly, giving you a heart attack right there but you forget all about it when his fingers replace yours, smirking like a brat, green eyes position on your pretty face as he looks at you fondly. 

“you’re so needy for me that you can’t wait for a few hours until I return, is that it, pretty?” he chuckles, head tilting and he listens to your pleases like they’re the prettiest sound he has ever heard. he makes you cum, more than once because he says, “if that is the case, I will fuck my pretty girl so deep that she will never forget it even when I leave.” 

SUB ZERO is not gentle at all when it comes to having sex with him. he prefers to make you remember who you belong to, whose name you’re screaming, and who makes your legs shake in weakness because he fucks you that good. he doesn’t think about what a kink is in detail but he knows he has a few and he uses them with you without hesitation. you like them as he understands from the voices you make, the expressions your face has, and cumming all over him without announcing because you can’t hold them any longer.

he knows he shouldn’t use any of his abilities while fucking you but he can’t help. he breaks his discipline side and uses them anyway from time to time while having sex with you; decreasing his body temperature when he fucks you behind, kneeling down until your naked back touches his bare chest so that you get close to cum, feeling a sense of chill.

he does that with some parts of his body either; his fingers when they travel on your body, in your mouth, between your thighs and holes - the tip of his tongue when it enters your pussy, making you lose your mind. he even changes its temperature from time to time only to earn the sounds you can't think you're making. he doesn't stop with his attempts of fucking you 'till you have a non-functional brain because of only him - his thick cock, the way he fucks you into oblivion and not holding himself back from using his abilities to his advantage to make you realize only he can fuck you like this. he's fond of your screams after all, begs that want him to stop because it's too much for you to handle go to deaf ears - not even when it's as cold as under a frozen surface of a deep sea.

"so cold, huh?" scoffs, humiliating your pathetic condition, "what were you thinking anyway whore?" he asks, poison in his voice, deep. "think that I would hold back because you beg so nicely?" laughs, holds your hair tightly as he fucks you from behind. "they're only praying for me to go deeper, my pretty slut." and he does - going deeper and colder each passing time and you only can take it all - you're his own pet to enjoy in the end.

SCORPION is a cute lover. he doesn't hurt you in any way as possible as he can, protecting you at all cost, keeping his fire at a minimum level whenever you're around - except while fighting of course. he never uses his abilities against you but oh, he can't deny that he loves it when you are a total brat, asking him to do such naughty things in bed, including using his fire to make intimate sessions more intense than it is needed - you both need it as you say, believing you can endure it and in the end, he accepts your pleases, allowing himself adjoining a few things he can do without hurting you.

firstly, he just uses it on his tongue when it enters your wet pussy, licking from your inner thighs to inside, giving you euphoria. he makes sure not to burn you, enjoying by himself too after seeing how turned on you are in these moments. he is a man who wants to please his lover more than himself in the first place - a gentleman. then, it begins with these simple pleasure times - it evolves into something that even you can't imagine happening and it takes you a long time to realize how scorpion has begun to his abilities on you in order to turn you on often; the cute lover discovers how you're affected by heat - in general, so, he thinks a way to make your heat go up without noticing he's the one who is doing it by increasing his body's heat as he comes near you, giving you hotness you can't ignore and start taking off your clothes one by one.

of course he acts innocent, asking how he can help you, and then smirking, saying how he makes you hot by just standing beside you. catching you in a trap with all his desires to have you, he reaches his plan's top point when you have a sports bra and shorts on your body and nothing else. oh, how he feels a kind of achievement when you agree with him, being naked and having one of the best fucking in your entire life to get rid of your heat after getting horny because of being exposed in front of the man you love. 

"my love, you give me a heat even my own power can't give; you have no idea how I am burning for you." he smiles down at you, eyes burning with sparkles of fire, "oh - beautiful, the most beautiful thing in the whole universe I have ever seen. let me burn you the way you are doing to me, my love."

#🍦 video games #🌙 drabble #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 x reader #syzoth x reader #reptile x reader #sub zero x reader #bi han x reader #scorpion x reader #kuai liang x reader #syzoth #reptile #sub zero #kuai liang #bi han #scorpion #written by me #vom #rose #<3 #mk1 male characters x reader #mk1 smut #syzoth smut #sub zero smut #scorpion smut #💟 thanks for reading! hope you had fun

[llamagoddessofficial]

GRJRHRJDJRJD YOUR FARM SANS STUFF IS MAKING MY BRAIN BUZZZZZZ

What if some rich city dude started vying for Farm Sans' love interest? Like the dude is a total douche, and he turns around and tries to take Sans' girl? >:3

It's probably one of those assholes who buys a second/third home in the countryside, out-pricing local families, so he can have an 'escape' he only lives in for a month out of the year. He's in town to 'get away from it all' for a while.

This dude sets off all of Sans' alarm bells when he flirts with you. With any other person, Sans' reaction would depend on whether or not you were into them. He'd respectfully back off if you genuinely liked someone. But honestly, this douche's vibes are so rancid that Sans is going to be constantly brittle and cold and on the offensive. He has a few tactics up his sleeve.

For one - he uses his community connections. This guy (we'll call him Douche) is NOT welcome here, and Sans rubs it in. Country communities are tight-knit, can be pretty closed off, and are often actively hostile to people like Douche. Douche can barely buy groceries, people either ignore him or speak in cold and brusque tones, the snub from Sans and Papyrus means people will hardly look at him. Not to mention you've been so deeply accepted that it's as if you were born and raised there; nobody wants Douche to win you over. With or without Sans' encouragement, other folk will gossip to you about what a terrible person Douche is. "Oh, don't hang around with his sort, MC. You're such a sweetheart."

Sans is relatively oblivious to how his physique is attractive to you. But he's not oblivious to how physically intimidating he can be. He enjoys casual displays of his overwhelming strength, and the terror he witnesses in Douche's eyes; nothing shuts Douche up faster than having to watch his romantic rival wrangle a bull with just his hands. Sans will wander up to Douche (particularly while Douche is trying to chat you up) holding a sack of grain in one hand like it's nothing - "hey buddy, think you can hold this for me for a few secs?" - and then Sans will watch in glee as Douche tips over under its weight.

... Sans' favourite, though, is playing mind games. He fully leans into the 'dumb country guy' stereotype, acting like he's lazy and stupid, playing up his accent and easygoing tone. Until anytime Douche tries to seem smart. Then, in a searingly faux-friendly manner, Sans nitpicks him apart, correcting him on even the most complicated issues. "hey man, pretty sure socrates said that, not plato." "actually it's gravitational lapsing that causes that effect. lensin' is somethin' else entirely." "well i don't know about no NFTs... but i do know the blockchain is only as strong as its weakest link, an' deregulation makes it impossible to recover any phished money. seems like an inherently flawed system and no real way to store yer hard earned cash. but what do i know?" This also doubles as a way of making Sans look better in front of you, because you had no idea he was so smart.

Douche honestly doesn't stand a chance. But it's fun to watch him flounder.

#llamagines #sans spends a few evil moments of joy watching douche sweat and stumble and strain under the weight of 1 single grain bag #then hes like “here lemme get that for you.” #puts it on his shoulder with 3 other bags and whistles while he walks

[multific]

It Started with Some Questions 

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: sexual innuendos, mention of blood, being shot

Summary: You were good at your job. Being a lawyer to an infamous mob boss had its ups and downs. Especially when you are being questioned by two very good-looking men. 

"We just have a couple of questions. So, where's your boss?" the one with the cute Scottish accent sat down across you.

You let out a sigh.

"I told you, I'm only his lawyer."

"Then where's your laptop?" he asked and you smirked.

"In my panties." 

After a few seconds of complete silence, he spoke up again.

"Look, Lady, we don't have any time to play games! Either you tell me, or he will take over." he pointed at the other man.

"Lady? I hoped you would call me your good girl..." the man in front of you punched the table before he left and his friend sat down. "Now, we are in business. I have a thing for masks."

"Tell me what we need to know or I will start breaking your fingers." his tone was serious but he didn't scare you.

"I have a better idea. I tell your friend when my laptop is, and while he is looking for it, we can have some fun alone." you smiled. Even if he was wearing a mask, you saw him frown.

"Stop messing with us! Tell us where he is."

"I don't know where he is. When he realized you guys were here, they hit me in the head, left me behind and fled. I'm not aware of any other safe-houses he has."

"Must be angry if they left you here."

"I am. I would give him to you on a silver plate, Handsome, but at the moment I'm too wet to think." he knotted his eyebrows and looked at your clothes. "Lower." you whispered and his eyes snapped down at your crossed, legs. "Bingo." when you said that he immediately looked away. 

"Fuckin' hell." you heard him say.

You looked at the one called Soap.

"The laptop is in the safe, the code is 789653210123, there is a gun in there if you open the safe, it will shoot you, but if you open it a little you will find a button, push the button and the gun won't fire. I'll give you the laptop password once you have it." you then looked back at the masked man. "I'm not giving up on the fact that you will bend me over this desk and fuck me until I can't even stand! But I need you to kill Mr Givonassi in my name." 

His friend soon came back with the laptop, you gave them the info and soon, they left, leaving you tied to the chair as you were before.

You tried to escape but the rope was too tight. Soon, a man arrived, said his name was Gaz.

He took you to a secret place. So secret, they covered your eyes.

Then, you were in a room, it had a bed, a table and an attached bathroom.

Like a prison cell.

You didn't had delusions of them letting you go.

Then a man entered.

It was your masked interrogator from before. This time, he only had a mask up until his nose. His eyes had dark make up around them and he had a hoodie on.

You sat on the bed and he sat on the chair.

"If you are here to scare me, I suggest you don't. Let's skip to the good part."

"Are you always like this? Is everything a joke to you?"

"Of course not. I would never joked about getting dicked down." your tone and face were so serious, he let out a sigh.

"We didn't find him. They blocked your access. You need to tell me what you know."

"Are there cameras in this room?" you asked and he shook his head.

"No."

"Shame... I guess your friends would have to see you naked, which is a win." 

"For fuck's sake!" Simon stood up to leave but you stopped him.

"He has a wife. He hid her very well, but I saw a paper of their marriage. It had an address." 

"What's the address?"

"Oh, that will take some... work to make me remember. I would say about... four orgasms... yeah that will work."

"I'm not going to touch you."

"You are no fun Mr Riley." you frowned, he quickly stood up and walked over to you, he grabbed your neck and pulled you up. "Chocking huh?"

"How the fuck do you know my name?!"

"I'm not stupid. Everyone thinks I'm some bimbo but I listen and learn!" you pushed him away from you and he let you go, standing in front of you. "This fucker knocked me out and left me behind, he thought I was... some dead-weight. But he is wrong. I might flirt, I might say inappropriate things, but one thing I am not, I'm not stupid, Simon. And now that I have your attention, I can give you all the info I know."

"What do you want in exchange?" you smirked. "Don't say my cock." it made you roll your eyes.

"You are no fun. Would your friend be interested in any? Or your Captain?" he was about to answer but you slapped him across the cheek. Simon was so stunned he looked back at you in disbelief. "DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME A SLUT!"

Then, suddenly, Simon understood.

He understood that this was your way of surviving for so long working for a man like that. Being vulgar and flirty made you survive and he saw it now.

He saw how scared you were, he saw the tears behind your eyes he saw the way your hand was shaking.

And Simon even saw himself in you. His childhood self, a scared little child. 

"Sorry." is what he said and you turned and went to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed, Simon just sat on the bed, looking at his hands when you exited and sat on the chair.

He saw the redness in your eyes. He saw the tears still in them.

"What do you want in exchange for the info?"

"Protection from him and his men. And I don't want some random man. I want you to protect me."

"I can't do that. I have a man to hunt down."

"I won't tell you anything then." you never once looked into his eyes, you looked, sad. 

You dropped the act.

"Then we just let you go and he finds you."

"You think pushing me into a corner is going to scare me? Givonassi is a powerful man. If he realizes I'm alive, he will send someone to kill me. I have some info on him so I can blackmail him, but again, he would just kill me."

"So?"

"So, I have nowhere to go. You pushed me into a corner."

"So, tell me what you know."

"I know about Tommy, Beth and Joseph. I also know about Captain Price's lovely wifey. I know about Kyle's husband and Johnny's little son." you saw his fist clench. "So, I suppose we have an agreement."

"How can you possibly know all this?"

"I listen. Unlike you Simon, I listen and remember everything I'm told. I told you, I want protection. Until the day I see Givonassi's head in a jar." 

Simon let out a long sigh. 

"Go talk with whoever you have to. Oh, and before you think you can just move all those people, family around... I know about the summer homes. I know about the safe-houses. I know about every trick. I give you Givonassi on a silver plate in exchange for you."

"Fair enough." he said before he stood up and left the room.

---

Simon was beginning to be a lot more fidgety. 

He couldn't sit still.

Knowing his team was hot in the tails of Givonassi, he wanted to be there... but he was stuck babysitting you.

And you could see his frustration.

He only spent a week with you and yet he was already ready to barge out of the apartment that was given to you for the time being.

"Am I really that bad of a roommate?" you asked and he looked at you from his phone. "You look desperate to run out of here."

"I want to help my Team." was his answer, simple, yet it was the truth.

"Go on then."

"What?"

"Go and help them." you said. 

"That wasn't the agreement."

"Fuck the agreement. I hate being in a room with someone who is basically waiting to barge out at any second. Go help your friends."

Simon hesitated. He wasn't sure if this was a game. But then he looked at you, really looked at you.

"Why?" he asked.

"You are just like them... you can leave me behind to save your ass. I'm not forcing you to stay any longer. I have been trying for a week to get closer to you, but I feel further and further away. Go."

You went into your room, all you heard was the front door closing.

When the information came about Givonassi's death, a team came over and told you that you can go back to your life now.

Little did they know, you had no life. 

But you did have an old apartment. So, you headed back there.

Even if Givonassi was dead, you still had this feeling, this uneasiness. 

You felt watched and followed.

And your suspicion soon became true.

You went out for groceries when you arrived back, your door was wide open with all of your things scattered.

But who could you call?! 

You wanted to run, but as you turned at the end of the hallway a man appeared. You moved just in time, but he did shoot you.

You laid on the ground as you heard him leave.

He hit your shoulder, the pain was terrible.

You started to pass out when another person arrived.

You were sure you wouldn't wake up ever again.

---

But you did. You woke up in a hospital room, the beeping of the machines made your head hurt.

"Don't move." said someone and when you looked, you saw Simon Riley. "You were shot, I found you and took you to the hospital."

Found you? He did? How?

"My head hurts."

"You lost a lot of blood. I'll call the doctor." but you grabbed his shirt, he couldn't leave, he looked at you.

"How did you find me?"

"When I got back from the mission, I was told that they let you go. I was mad because I knew even if Givonassi died, it didn't mean that you were safe. I was looking for you all this time and when I finally found you, I found you in a pool of blood, half dead. This is my fault. You told me you were in danger and yet I ignored you."

"I should say, I told you so, but I don't have any energy. Why are you here?"

"I told you-"

"I know, I mean why did you stay? Do you feel guilty? Don't. I told you to go, because you just couldn't sit still. I understood you had a job to do and I was holding you back. You don't have to feel guilty. You saved many people by getting to Givonassi."

"I still want to make it up to you somehow." you smirked and he rolled his eyes.

"How about coffee?" you said.

"I prefer tea."

"Fucking Britts." you said before the doctor entered the room to finally check on you.

You smiled at Simon as the doctor explained what happened and what they will do.

But at that moment all you could think about was what will happen with you and Simon.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#simon #x reader #x female reader #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n #ghost simon riley #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagines #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warefare 2 #modern warefare ii #modern warefare imagine #modern warefare imagines #modern warefare x reader

[strawberryspence]

OH MY GOOOOOOOOD !!! I LOVE TURMOIL !!!

Eddie calling Steve sweetheart is canon now by the way every fanfic writer uses it. They’re not even dating yet and it’s always, “Steve, sweetheart, please hand me the towel.” or “Sweetheart, did you eat?” or “You’re wrong, sweetheart, it’s this way.”

He only ever calls Steve, Stevie or sweetheart and at first, Steve thinks it’s a joke. Like big boy, you know? Steve’e never had anyone call him pet names, it’s always him calling girls baby or babe. But then it’s three months later, and his hands get clammy and his stomach gets butterflies when Eddie calls him Sweetheart, his voice dipping lower, giving his signature cheeky smile, his dimples dipping with the slope of his smile, brown eyes shining with a glint. Steve realizes he’s in love with Eddie fucking Munson and wants to be his sweetheart.

The longer it goes on, Steve feels more special. The implications of the pet name making his heart grow twice its size. He’s never been anyone’s sweetheart. Yeah, they’re not dating and maybe Eddie doesn’t like him the same way he likes him but Steve is sweetheart to Eddie, no one else and that’s good enough for Steve. Eddie does it so often that by now no one questions it (not even the kids, who was visibly confused the first time Eddie asks them, “Where’s sweetheart?” and even more confused to find out that he was looking for Steve.) and it’s just normal that Eddie calls Steve sweetheart.

Until the whole adult (Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Argyle) squad goes to The Hide Out to watch Corroded Coffin perform. It’s packed with people, somehow Eddie’s murder allegations brings more people. It’s after the performance and they’re all drinking with Jeff, Gareth and Paul. They’re taking shots, playing drinking games, doing normal teenage stuff in bars.

Eddie’s openly gay with them now, he’s the first to do so in the group to ease Robin in (which makes Steve fall in love with him more). So yeah, it’s normal that after a performance a few boys (even girls) approach Eddie. Steve gets jealous, yes. But he doesn’t begrudge them for it, 1. They’re not dating and 2. Have you fucking seen Eddie? With all that liner, mesh crop top showing lines of scars and tight ass jeans that leaves nothing to the imagination. Don’t even get Steve started with the way his hair is tied up.

But then, one guy is openly flirting with Eddie and Eddie’s smiling and teasing back, and Steve’s heart is suddenly lodged at his throat. Eddie invites the guy to play with them, introducing him as James, and Steve ignores the side glances his friends give him as he excuses himself to get more shots.

They’re all playing having fun, everything was going fine until James takes a shot and it goes through the wrong pipe, he’s coughing loudly and harshly. Steve, because he’s Steve, gets a bottle of water for James, passing it to Eddie, who opens it for James. Everyone’s watching them.

When it finally settles down, “Oh god, that was painful.” James was laughing and Eddie’s laughing with him as he says, “Looks like it, sweetheart.”

It’s not even Steve who reacts first. Not Robin, Not Nancy. It’s Jonathan, he’s halfway through a drink and the glass just slips out his hands, hitting the ground and breaking into pieces as he gasps. Jonathan’s not even looking at the broken glass, just at Eddie. Eddie’s visibly confused, asking him if he’s okay.

When it fully loads to the whole group, Robin’s almost immediately up on her feet, fists first, she’s drunk, but not drunk enough to not think straight, but drunk enough to have the strength of an elephant. It takes Nancy and Argyle to hold her back. She’s screaming incoherent strings of curses. Eddie’s still confused, James looks downright scared.

Steve’s just sitting there. Open mouth, looking at the commotion as it sinks in. Maybe it was him, maybe it was all in his head, maybe he made it all up and maybe he wasn’t that special. Maybe sweetheart was just a name Eddie calls anyone, any guy and Steve was just another guy. Because why would anyone reserve the name sweetheart for Steve fucking Harrington? He's not that special.

He stands up, making Robin pause her rant as Steve holds out his hand to her, “You’re drunk. Let’s go home.” Robin stares at him, their own version of silent conversation before Steve adds, his voice wavering, “Please.” Robin nods, takes his hand, pulling him out of the place without questions.

Eddie’s left there, gobsmacked confused as to what just happened. James excuses himself, maybe because Jonathan’s glaring at the two of them like they’re Vecna.

“What happened?”

Jonathan’s glare intensifies. Nancy’s quietly judging him. Gareth's looking at him like he's the biggest idiot in town. Jeff and Paul are avoiding eye contact.

Argyle's the one who speaks first, "Brochacho, you just called James, sweetheart.”

“So?” Eddie asks. He’s actually confused to what the hell just happened.

“My dude, you only call our beautiful Steve, sweetheart. Sweetheart is Steve. Steve is Sweetheart. Only him. We’re just surprised you called another dude sweetheart. That’s why Buckley’s ready to fight you for Steve’s honor.”

Only then does Eddie realize what he’s done.

Fuck, he’s so screwed.

PART 2

#MWAHHSHAHAHSHSAHHSHA #lemme finish my paper nad ill write a part 2 #steddie #steddie rants #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #daeheadcanons #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #steddie fic rec #i love steddie #skittle six #spicy six

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner. 

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man. 

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction. 

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going. 

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no. 

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut. 

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought. 

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes. 

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.” 

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again. 

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces. 

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.” 

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now. 

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?” 

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment. 

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit. 

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more. 

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age. 

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?” 

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear. 

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you. 

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?” 

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass. 

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more. 

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?” 

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.” 

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him. 

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea. 

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?” 

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–” 

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling. 

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head. 

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #saturo gojo

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW!Eddie and Steve debauchery--I cannot get enough of those idiots. What was their friendship like before they each got married and had kids?

You are all in for a wild ride with this one. All humor is courtesy of @munson-blurbs as usual. Please enjoy the chaos that has sprung from our minds!

Warnings: alcohol consumption, stripping, dumb boys

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had originally never thought he’d have more than one bachelor party in his life because he hadn’t planned on ever getting married more than once. But when the first wife was Brittany, it’s no surprise that marriage didn’t last.

This second bachelor party he’s having is already way more fun and is with people he loves—not that he doesn’t love his high school friends with all his heart. But nothing could beat palling around with his sons. 

Wayne sits next to Eddie in the passenger’s seat of the car, while Steve is in the back, squished between Ryan and Luke. The steakhouse they’re going to isn’t far from the apartment and then they’ll be headed to the bowling alley for some friendly competition amongst them. 

“This is nice,” Luke says, folding his hands and relaxing them behind his head, “just us guys.”

Eddie chuckles to himself as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. As insane as his first bachelor party had been, it didn’t have the humor that Luke would undoubtedly inject into this evening. 

“I would like to order the chicken fingers. Not the ones on the kid’s menu, the ones on the adult menu,” Eddie’s youngest son informs the waitress when she comes to take their orders. Eddie half expects the precocious child to wink at the waitress or call her “doll.”

Eddie can’t stop smiling. Being out with his kids, uncle, and best friend for a nice evening to celebrate his upcoming marriage. To you. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life. How could he not be ecstatic? 

Even his bowling game gets off to a good start until Wayne begins to wipe the floor with him. For an old man with arthritis, he’s impressively skilled at bowling. 

After Luke’s third gutterball in a row, he huffs a sigh of annoyance and eyes the arcade in the back corner of the bowling alley with interest. Lights flash and whistles blow from the small room, calling like a siren to any child within its grasp. After his big brother has his turn and only manages to knock down two pins, Luke recruits him in asking their dad if they can go into the arcade. 

“Sure,” Eddie says. He pulls a twenty out of his wallet and raises his eyebrows at the boys. “This is for you two to share. Evenly. I don’t want any arguing. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” the brothers agree in unison. Ryan takes the twenty from his father and the two kids make their way towards a basketball arcade game, their bowling shoes squeaking on the polished floor beneath them. 

Steve eyes the bowling alley around them, his hands on his hips as Eddie bowls a frame behind him. It’s fairly empty, save for a bowling team at the other end of the lanes. Some old 80’s pop is playing dully over the speakers and the scent of beer and French fries stains the air. 

“This sure looks a whole lot different than your first bachelor party,” Steve remarks. 

Wayne raises an eyebrow at Eddie as he comes back over towards the ball return, keeping an eye out for the twelve-pound blue marbled ball he’s been using. 

“Was that the time this knucklehead—” the older man starts to ask, mirth lighting his face.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says with a bark of laughter. “It sure was.”

November 1988

The Hideout is the same as it always is: dimly lit, every surface sticky with spilled beer, music crackling through ancient speakers. Tonight, however, there’s a liveliness that isn’t usually present. 

“Another shot, Harrington?” Jeff calls out, raising two tiny glasses filled with tequila. “Or are you pussing out on us?”

Steve grins and accepts the drink, though he’s already a bit wobbly on his feet. “You wish.” He jabs a playful finger towards the guitarist. “Shot for shot? Winner gets to be the best man.”

“You’re on, man!”

Dustin rolls his eyes, the beer in his hand giving him a false sense of maturity. That, and the wispy mustache he’d been trying to grow out to avoid being carded at the bar. No one had the heart to tell him that The Hideout would probably serve bourbon to a baby.

He leans over and whispers to Eddie. “They don’t know that you already asked me to be the best man?”

“Nah, but don’t say anything. This is entertaining.” Eddie watches as the two men throw back shot after shot, taking a sip of his own rum and Coke. 

Steve is ultimately the winner, throwing a fist up in victory. “Looks like I’m the best man,” he gloats, cackling as he practically falls into the booth. 

Jeff just shakes his head, balancing on the bartop and silently chastising himself for the loss. 

None of the men pay attention when the door swings open. It’s only when the person speaks that their ears perk up. 

“Is there an Eddie Munson here?”

Eddie swivels around to see a police officer standing there with her arms crossed. She looks serious, determined, and he combs through any recent activities that would land him in the slammer. 

He tries to keep his composure, clearing his throat before saying, “I’m Eddie Munson.”

The officer smiles, sauntering over to him with a stride that Eddie had never seen from a cop before. It isn’t until she’s standing in front of him that he notices the way her cleavage spills out of her low-cut top and the high heels that would render her unable to chase after a real criminal. 

Oh, hell yeah. 

“I’m afraid you’ve been a bad boy, Eddie,” she coos, tilting his chin up with the pad of her forefinger. “And bad boys get arrested.” She whips out a pair of black fuzzy handcuffs and gestures for him to drag his chair to the center of the room, to which he immediately obliges. 

“Okay, which one of you bastards did this?” He says with a giant smirk, only to be met with a disapproving tut from the dancer. 

“Eyes on Vanilla, big boy.” She presses a button on her portable CD player and a sensual beat fills the room. 

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on her, just as she ordered. He watches as she slowly unbuttons her tiny uniform, her bare breasts spilling out once the final button is opened. 

“I think I’m in love,” Steve says from his seat, but Eddie barely registers it. Not when he has a pair of tits in front of him. The Russians could drop an A-bomb and he wouldn’t even notice. 

Dustin’s eyes widen as Vanilla reveals her lacy black thong. “Eddie should marry her instead of Brittany,” he muses. 

“Not if I marry her first,” Steve quips back. 

Vanilla’s bare ass grinds over Eddie’s lap, and he smiles through the arousal kicking up in his pants. He never wants it to end—the dance and the attention. It vaguely occurs to him that his own fiancée doesn’t care this much about his pleasure. 

This woman is paid to care, he reminds himself. That’s why. 

With one final roll of her hips, the song ends, and Vanilla stands up. She’s flushed from all of the movement, her lipstick slightly smudged from where she’d kissed Eddie’s collarbone. 

Steve glides over to her as best as he can in his inebriated state, holding out his hand. “Hi. Steve Harrington. Former Hawkins High swim team co-captain and Keg Stand King.” He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Can I interest you in a shot?”

Enamored by his attempted chivalry, Vanilla blushes and accepts, buttoning herself back into her costume. 

“Leave it to Harrington to charm the goddamn stripper,” Eddie mumbles, but he grins as he rejoins the party. 

It only takes a few moments before Steve and Vanilla are making out in the corner, just a blur of limbs and tongues. He’s grabbing her ass so tightly that it’ll probably leave bruises, but she certainly isn’t complaining. 

“Hey, you guys!” Gareth says, flinging one arm around Eddie and the other around Jeff. “What if we do a little trial run before the big day?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Jeff asks. 

Gareth rolls his eyes as though the answer is obvious. “I’m talking about using my new ordination skills on those two lovebirds.” He gestures towards Steve and Vanilla. “That way I’m not as nervous for Eddie’s wedding.”

Too drunk to argue, Eddie shrugs. “S’okay with me if it’s okay with them.”

“Harrington! Vanilla!” Gareth yells far too loudly. “Do you two wanna get hitched?”

Steve pulls away for a second. “Hell yeah!” He calls back, and Vanilla nods emphatically. 

“Looks like we’re having a wedding!” Will chimes in. “Okay, let’s make this legit. Everyone needs a role. I’m the wedding planner, of course.” He assigns Eddie the role of Best Man and makes Mike the Maid of Honor. Dougie is the ring bearer, and Lucas volunteers to be the flower girl. 

“Erica got to do it when we were kids. Now it’s my turn,” he explains. 

Dustin starts walking Vanilla down the aisle, as Jeff plays Here Comes the Bride using the painfully out-of-tune guitar he’d snagged from the bar’s tiny green room. Steve and Gareth wait for Vanilla to join them on the Hideout stage. 

“Dearly Beloved,” Gareth begins, “we gather here to wed this man and this bombshell exotic dancer in holy matrimony…shit, we don’t have rings!”

Steve leans back to Eddie. “Is he allowed to say ‘shit?’” He mumbles. 

“Guess so. He’s not a priest.”

Gareth shakes off the snafu and continues. “It’s fine; we’ll skip that part.” He turns to Steve. “Do you, King Steve Harrington, take Vanilla to be your wife? In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part—Jesus, that’s dark.”

“I so fuckin’ do.”

“And Vanilla,” Gareth continues, “do you take Steve to be your husband? In sickness and health and all that other bullshit I said before?”

Vanilla smiles drunkenly. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Gareth announces. “You may continue dry humping in the corner. Oh, but first,” he digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out an official looking piece of paper, “I picked up this bad boy today. Let me make sure I get this right. Just need a pen…”

Dustin procures one from the bartender, and Gareth shows the newlyweds where to sign. “Oh, and we need a witness, too. Eddie, c’mere.”

Eddie shuffles over, grinning as he writes his name in sloppy cursive. He’ll have to remind Gareth to get a new license before the actual wedding, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie giggles, “your wife gave me a lap dance.”

“Shut up, Munson. I’m gonna get one later.”

“Thank God for annulments,” Steve says with a sigh. 

Eddie grabs his Styrofoam cup of Pepsi resting on the chair next to him. He holds it in the air as he says, “To ending marriages and finding actual love.”

“Hear, hear,” Steve agrees, knocking his own Styrofoam cup against his buddy’s.

Wayne takes a sip from his can of beer, shaking his head in amusement at the pair of them. 

“You weren’t with Nancy at the time, were ya?” Wayne asks.

“God, no,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “Was pretty damn funny when she first found out about it though and learned that her brother was the maid of honor.”

“How the hell you got Nancy to marry you is still a mystery to me,” Eddie says with a laugh before lifting his cup up to his lips. 

Before Steve can open his mouth to defend his honor (or say the same about Eddie with you), the boys come skipping over, a few skimpy prizes in their hands that they won. The yellow slinky was sure to get lost by tomorrow and the little hot dog shaped whistle was something Eddie was already planning to “misplace.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Ryan asks as the boys switch from their bowling shoes to the sneakers they arrived in.

“That sounds all right to me,” Eddie says. 

The rental shoes all get returned at the counter and Luke takes his father’s hand as the gang walks out into the parking lot.

“What flavors are you guys gonna get?” Luke asks.

“Well,” Eddie says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “I know Uncle Steve will go for Vanilla.”

Steve silently shoots daggers at his friend before replying, “And your dad won’t decide until he gets there because he likes the newest flavors.”

Two soft thuds have Ryan turning around. He sees both his father and uncle holding the back of their heads while his grandfather walks past them, shaking his head. 

“Ow,” Eddie complains, but Wayne just ignores him and keeps walking towards the car.

“I’m sitting in the backseat with you two,” Wayne tells the boys. “Probably more mature than these two knuckleheads—Ed, if you grab that man’s nipple one more time, I swear to God, I’ll leave you both here.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #request

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

Like what you read? Consider getting your own Commission! ^_^

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori x y/n #smut #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #cw dubcon #cw noncon #commission #commissions open

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 42.1k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

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“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

We

We

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller story #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fluff #joel miller romance #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller au #joel miller age gap #joel miller x you #joel miller moodboard

[belovedvenom]

begging u to write the first time sarah takes your strap omg

as oomfie once said: you need to fuck the fake gay outta her!!!

warnings: 18+, strap on usage (sarah receiving), cheating (topper fuck you MOVE), dirty talk

another sleepover, sarah once again pacing around her room, going off about how terrible topper is at sex —still not knowing how to please her, his stroke game is weak, only focusing on himself. you disliked him but you envied him also. you wanted to be the only one to take care of her, to kiss her whenever, the only one to make her cum and he can’t even do that right.

scrolling on your phone, letting out a few hums of acknowledgment to show her you’re listening —barely, you’re just so over it, words coming out before you could stop them.

“you wouldn’t have that problem with me”

she stops in her tracks. “you- what?”. shrugging, you act like its no big deal. “you heard me. i mean you know how i feel about that loser anyway, i tell you all the time you deserve better, deserve someone who knows how to make you cum. i could take care of you..besides it could be fun..”

you get up to stand in front of her— bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares intensely into your eyes. the look on her face making your cunt throb. she’s always heard stories about how you really know how to keep a girl satisfied. sarahs always been infatuated with you, wnted you to slut her out.

“okay..” she started. “..yeah show me”

“show you what?” head tilted to the side.

“show me how i deserve to be fucked.”

fuck yes.

you lean forward, kissing her roughly. “lay back on the bed, pretty girl.” she giggles as she immediately scampers to the bed, laying against the pillows, already taking off her pj’s. mesmerized by her body, you trail your fingers down her chest, to her stomach, and thighs before straddling her waist. pressing your lips to hers once more, you caress her cheek as you pull away.

“oh, baby. i can’t wait to ruin you.”

‎ ᰍ︵ꪒꪒ‎ ‎ "fuck! baby slow down!.. you're gonna make me cum.."

face smushed into her pillow as you deep stroke her in doggystyle with your strap. biting down on it with how good you're giving it to her. she was a whining and whimpering mess as you pounded in to her. "taking me so well baby" breathless as your hand collides with her ass, smacking it twice before gripping her hips again. handing her better than any man ever could. "like when i fuck this pussy like this huh.." she nods, barely any time to speak before you hand settles on her neck, squeezing down. "fuck. oh fuck" sarah whined as her orgasm quickly approached. you slowed down, helping her ride it out, hand leaving her neck to caress her back. you pulled out of her, grabbing her by the hips to flip her body over on to her back. lining the silicone coke to her cunt and pushing back in making her whimper. "youve got one more in you, baby. i know you do.' starting to thrust, you grab her jaw. "open your mouth" squeezing slightly. she does as you command, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide for you. spitting in to it, you fuck her harder as she swallows immediately. "such a good girl for me. you're my slut now, yeah? only gonna come to me when you wanna come, right?" her pretty eyes blink up at you as she nods. "o-only you. i-i'm y-yours. i'm only yours!" she cries out, breasts jiggling from the way your pounding into her. "topper could never fuck you like this, huh.. my poor girl never got to cum" you tease, hand going down to rub her clit. "no! never! he never made me feel as good as you do.. fuck! you fuck me so good baby. please..make me cum, make me cum again" she babbles dumbly until, for the third time that night, you have her cumming again, making a mess all over you -your name rolling off her tongue like music. slowly you pull out of her and get up to get a towel as she lays limp, breathing heavy. you cleaned her up, kissing her body as you did so before laying down beside her, pulling her body close. kissing her forehead, you both lay in comfortable silence before she broke it "so.." she looks up at, grinning sweetly. "wanna go again?"

#sarah cameron x female reader #sarah cameron smut #sarah cameron x reader #sarah obx #sarah cameron #outer banks smut #outer banks x reader #madelyn cline #obx #obx x reader

[hayheehee]

Do me? ~ HS One-Shot

{ You and your boyfriend harry are laying down in your room as harry asks you to rub his chest to help him fall asleep. His way of asking this is simply just saying " do me"}

“Do meeeeeee” harry groans with his eyes closed next to me in our bed.

“H I’m sleepy” I say rolling back over to face him.

“Me too, just do me and then I’ll fall asleep and then you can fall asleep” he says, sounding like a needy child.

“You’re so so needy, you know?” I groan as I reach over and start scratching up and down his chest, soothing him to sleep, or in his words “doing him”

“Mhhhhh thank you babyyyy” he says as I lay down in the crook of his arm, putting my head on his shoulder and I drag my nails on his stomach teasingly.

I drag my hand down a little further, deciding to have fun with harry in this sleepy state, I run my hands under his belly button getting closer to the waistband of his boxers. 

As I’m doing this I feel harry jump under my touch, his stomach flinching at my touch.

“Babyyy” he groans getting himself worked up

“Yes lover?” I moan teasingly in his ear, enjoying playing this little game with my usually dominant boyfriend.

Harry just groans in reply as I shift my body weight from laying down to sitting up, straddling his thigh, feeling myself get warmer and more tingly down there at the clothed contact. 

“You’re making me horny baby” harry groans out as I still scratch up and down his chest. Moving from his stomach, all the way up to his collarbone, and then farther up to his neck, not putting any pressure, but holding his neck in my hand.  

I bring my face down to the crook of his neck, and I whisper menacingly ;

“Then you should do me, daddy.”

As if that last word was like a slap to the face harry opens his eyes quickly and the next thing I know he is flipping us over, and grinding his growing cock into my pussy, the only thing between them is the thin fabric of his boxers and my panties. 

“How bad do you want me to fuck you?” He asks

After no reply from me he makes his way down moving the covers off of us as he says something along the lines of “Looks like I’m gonna have to see for myself” 

he moves down to take off my panties, revealing my wet pussy to him, and the cold air of our bedroom

“Ooh looks like you want it quite a lot, huh honey? He says tilting his head, mockingly.

“Yes” I quietly say

“Yes what?” Harry says maintaining piercing eye contact in the dim light of the room.

“Yes, daddy” I say returning the eye contact, making myself seem more confident than I was in this moment.

“Oh then I’m gonna have to do something about this huh sweet girl?” He says dragging his hands down my stomach getting down to the top of my pussy, as he uses his thumb to slowly massage my clit”

“Yes daddy” I quietly moan out, squeezing my eyes closed 

“Its a shame you can’t see how pretty you look right now, and how perfect this pussy is” harry says as he slides his boxers off, jerking himself off while looking and me, spread out in front of him.

Harry lines up his tip with my clit rubbing it up and down before moving lower and lining himself up with my hole just holding himself there waiting for me to break our silence.

“Please?” I say reaching up trying to pull him closer to me

“Baby when are you gonna learn? I need more words, please what?” 

“Please put your dick in me. Please?” I beg him

“Only cus you asked so so pretty baby” He says as he slowly lowers himself into me, stretching me open.

After a few moments of slowly and teasingly moving gin and out of me, I grind my hips up into harry, motioning that I’m ready for him to move faster. Harry speeds up his movement, moving his hand from my hip, t next to my head, pulling himself up so he can look at me as his thrusts get faster, and deeper.

Grabbing Harrys bicep I start moaning out louder and louder, taking in and appreciating how good harry makes me feel. Harry slows himself down again, keeping it interesting, until he sits up and pulls out of me, after I groan at the feeling, I feel harry pull me lower on the bed and push my legs up, making me more open, and so I can feel harry deeper.

As harry lowers himself in me again I feel him impossibly deeper then before, because of this new position harry can also move faster, making me moan again so very loud, making me very grateful we live alone.

As harry moves in and out of me faster, I tighten my grip on his bicep, feeling myself get closer and closer to cumming.

“Harry” I squeal out, giving him the warning that I’m getting close

Once harry registers this warning he starts moving faster and deeper, hitting all of the right spots within me.

“Fuck, im gonna cum” I breathily moan out 

“Me too baby, fuck, squeeze my dick sweet girl, fuck. Harry moans out and I can see the veins in his neck and arms becoming more prominent”

“Im cumming” I scream out squeezing around harry as he moans and closes his eyes and I can feel his cum shooting into me, making my orgasm even more intense. 

“Fuck” harry breathes out as he collapses down onto me, and we just lay there as we catch our breath and appreciate the feeling of out hearts beating on top of each other. 

After laying there for a moment harry pulls out of me, as he grabs a tissue from our side table, cleaning the cum off of himself before climbing onto the bed and cleaning me up. He goes into eh bathroom to through away our tissues before he bends down to grab his boxers and my panties.

He helps me put my underwear back on, before he flops back down onto the bed before he groans out again;

“Babyyyy, will you do me? He smirks with his eyes closed.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles #smut #harry styles smut #celebrities #musicians #one direction #fine line #harrys house #boyfriend harry #harry blurb #harry smut #harry styles boyfriend #boyfriend harry smut #fiction

[klaustozier]

toys and games ; chishiya

this story happens before the second season, while they are still at the beach

this is smut, please be aware of what you read

warnings: degradation kink, choking, slapping, arisu catches you, big cock!chishiya because i wanted and i could, petnames

dont forget to like it and even leave a little comment <3

english is not my first language so i'm sorry if i made any mistakes

world count: 2k

"Stupid jerk", you cursed, making Chishiya smirk.

"Shut up, you know you like it", he whispered before kissing you.

It was always like this, he would make plans to a game and get one more card, but before, he would look for you around the mansion on the beach, wave to you with that motherfucker smile of his and take you to one of the rooms.

You loved to hate him, loved to cuss him out, and he loved that you did all that.

The blonde had placed you on the table in the random office he had chosen and was kissing you with such hatred, his hands squeezing your breasts through the bikini you were wearing.

"Fuck, you're so hot", he whispered, kissing your neck, his fingers moving the bikini to the side, pinching your nipple making you throw your head back, giving him more space to have fun with your skin, biting and sucking.

"You're going to make me purple", you purred, feeling his kisses move up to your jaw until he gave you a peck.

"And why do I care?", he asked, smiling, making you roll your eyes.

"Motherfucker."

"Slut."

And he kissed you again, there was so much hate in that kiss and so much lust, and a lot of things weren't exactly said and wouldn't be if it was up to the two of you.

The blonde buried his face between your breasts, kissing them and pressing them against his face. His tongue licked the delicate skin until he reached one of your nipple, licking and sucking gently.b His expert tongue circled the delicate spot before plunging it back into his mouth.

Shuntaro was an extremely calm, a unbothered guy, but at one of the parties the two started talking, literally talking about anime and when you both noticed, you were on all fours in the blonde's bed, being fucked as if the world was going to end the next morning (which maybe it was).

He purred as he squeezed and sucked your breasts, drooling on the skin thoroughly, sliding his fingers over your nipples.

"Chishiya", you moaned softly.

The man smirked, his hand went up your neck, squeezing the sides, making you pant heavily, looking into his eyes, "Keep moaning my name like that and I will fall in love, baby girl."

"Go fuck yourself", you cursed, receiving a harsh slap on the face.

"Shhh", he shushed, his hand gripping your face, letting spit run down his tongue to yours, making you moan softly while you swallowed all his spit.

You wore a white skirt leaving one of your legs out, which made an easy access point to him and that was how he liked it.

Chishiya used hus free hand to push the skirt away from its place and looked at her colorful bikini and sighed, pulling to the side enough to be able to look at you for a moment.

He sighed, "You're all fucking wet already", he growled, kneeling on the floor.

The blonde spread your legs, kissing your thighs before biting lightly, making you moan softly, he knew you were sensitive in that area so he liked to tease. His tongue glided over the soft skin until he reached your wet pussy.

The man pushed your bikini bottom out of the way and dipped his tongue through the wet lips, licking up and down. He took his time, he didn't need to run, it was his time to calm down, even more so that he liked to hear you in despair.

The smooth tongue moved up to your clit and focused on it, giving it all the attention in the world. His blond hair was grabbed and you groaned forcing his head against your pussy, moaning for more.

And that's when your thighs were embraced and Chishiya finally did what you wanted, he was getting impatient too, that taste was so good on his tongue and that clit was so delicate and needy pulsing on his tongue begged him to go faster, to make a mess.

You let herself moan a little louder, that motherfucker knew what he was doing, he knew the rhythm you liked. Your fingers caressed his blonde hair, your face contorted as his delicate lips kissed and suckled the turgid muscle.

"I want to fucking break you in half", Chishiya whispered putting two fingers inside you, going fast, no need for ceremonies anymore, since his cock was tight in his shorts taking any rationality out of him.

His free hand squeezed your breast, pinching the nipple as his mouth and fingers tended to your pussy.

And moaning slyly, calling for Shuntaro, you heard the door open and your eyes met Arisu's frightened eyes, wide and guilty.

"I'm sorry!", he exclaimed, closing the door with all the speed in the world, making a resounding noise.

Chishiya, with the greatest peace in the universe, turned towards the door before looking back at you, smirking, his pretty lips glistening with your pleasure, "Poor Arisu", he said, looking at you as his fingers continued to thrust inside you, his thumb pressing down on your clit in the middle of the back-and-forth, "If he'd given me a moment to explain myself, I'd have invited him to participate."

You whimpered, "Participate?"

Shuntaro smirked and slid his teeth along your thigh, "I know you would like it. Have you ever thought about how beautiful you would look lying on the table with me fucking your little asshole while Arisu fucks your mouth?"

"Chishiya", you purred, rolling your hips against the man's skillful fingers, "Fucking shit… don't talk like that…"

"Don't you like to think about how he'd like to use that cute body?"

"He's so adorable, he wouldn't dare to do anything."

The blonde stood up, his fingers still inside you, just caressing the insides of your pussy, smirking as you moaned softly, "You don't know… just because he looks nice doesn't mean he is."

"You look like a fucking asshole and you are a complete asshole, your theory doesn't work", you teased, making him laugh.

His free hand finally let go of your breast so he could smack you in the face again, "Shut up, slut."

"Does the truth bother you, Chishiya?"

You said his name so slyly that it made him even more horny, "It bothers me that you won't shut up."

Shuntaro took his fingers out of you only to sink them into your mouth. You moaned, licking them, your tongue curling around the soft fingers sucking them while he was busy opening his white shorts and taking his cock out of the garment.

You moaned, still enjoying his index and middle fingers, feeling his thick cock slide through your wet pussy, just teasing, making your legs tremble with anticipation.

"Please", you whispered, your voice muffled by his fingers.

"What, little princess?", he said, smirking, taking his fingers out of your mouth, "What do you want?"

"Please", you repeated, your neck being squeezed by his strong hand, "Fuck me, please."

He just continued to rub his cock in your pussy, being gentle, sliding in with ease since you were so wet, "Wanna get fucked, baby girl?"

"Yeah, stop being a smartass and just get it over with, fucking asshole."

He smirked, "Being as polite as that, of course I do."

Chishiya positioned his cock at your entrance and began to sink slowly, taking it easy, but you weren't in the mood for his patience, so you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close, your head falling against his shoulder, groaning, finally having him completely inside you.

"No matter how much I fuck you, your pussy is still tight", he whispered, pushing his hips away, almost pulling out of you completely only to thrust with all his might, eliciting a whimper from you, "Could it be that if Arisu and I fucked at the same time would it make you a little looser?"

"Chishiya", you purred, hugging his neck, watching him, having your neck released, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair.

"Little slut", he whispered, pulling you into a kiss.

The man dominated your mouth, kissing you as he wanted, having fun with your tongue and lips, thrusting without any mercy, swallowing your moans so eager and pleading.

You felt like a toy, like Shuntaro Chishiya's little toy, which he used so he could relax and play the games with a cool head. And you loved that role, you loved being used by him, you loved hearing him moan, you loved having that thick cock ripping into you day after day. Sometimes, when he was bored, he would chase you around the mansion, whispering things in your ear like he was whispering now.

"Later, I'm going to have you sitting on my legs, with that fucking ass in my face just so I can fuck your ass with my fingers while I slap you", he whispered biting your earlobe, "I love watching you walking with a limp because I fucked you so many times that your body can't take it anymore... it's so cute..."

"I want to cum", you whispered, your mind blank without any logical reasoning other than him.

"And if I say no?", he laughed, kissing your neck, "What would you do? Would you cry?"

"I'm going after Arisu to finish the job", you provoked, smiling ironically when the other looked at you with anger in his eyes, giving you another slap on the face.

"And I'm the asshole, huh?", he asked, smiling.

"And a motherfucker…"

The fucking asshole smirked, biting his lower lip, "Stupid slut."

His right hand went to your pussy and began stroking your clit rapidly while his hips kept thrusting. Your nails ripped into his shoulders, your mouth being attacked again to shush your moans, you usually didn't make such a fuss, but, with Chishiya, things got out of control.

Your body spasmed, your toes curling with your legs still gripping his waist, pulling him close, wanting him deep inside you as you came on his cock.

"On your knees on the floor", he ordered, pulling out. You obeyed quickly, kneeling in front of his legs, your tongue sticking out, your hands on your thighs just waiting, "Slut", he smiled sliding his thumb over your tongue, pulling your chin down, opening your mouth even wider, to sink his cock inside without any mercy causing you to gag, your eyes quickly watering, "Fuck", he growled, thrusting his hips into your mouth.

You moaned and purred, feeling the soft cock rubbing against your tongue, heavy and throbbing, your jaw burning, eyes rolling, hearing him moan as he enjoyed himself with you, one of your hands on his balls, gently massaging.

His hands were buried in your hair, squeezing the strands as he fucked your mouth. It didn't take long for his moans to grow quieter and darker, his cum falling onto your tongue, and you were busy sucking on it, cleaning up every last measly drop.

"Open your mouth for me", he ordered looking at you, smiling when he saw your tongue covered in cum, just waiting for the command, "Swallow", he smiled and stroked your hair, "Good girl."

You smiled as he cupped your face, his thumbs sliding over your cheeks as he kissed you one more time that afternoon, ending the kiss with a peck.

The two left the office pretending that nothing had happened, completely calm, especially Chishiya, with his hands inside the pockets of his white long-sleeved blouse.

In the pool, he approached Arisu, you a few steps away from both of them, close enough for you to see and hear them.

"Hey, Arisu", said Shuntaro, making the brunette look at him with wide-eyes, his cheeks blushing at the same instant, "next time, wait for a bit, you can join us, ok?", and he winked, moving away from Arisu, leaving the poor boy shocked and embarrassed.

Your eyes met Chishiya's, looking irritated, as he smirked at you like a complete asshole and, before disappearing amongst the people in the pool, he waved at you and winked.

"Asshole," you whispered.

...

if this gets a little attention, i'll make an arisu x chishiya x fem!reader oneshot ;)

♣️ part 2

♡masterlist♡

#chishiya alice in borderland #alice in borderland #arisu alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya x fem!reader #aib chishiya #chishiya #chishiya x reader #aib arisu #aib fanfic #aib smut #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #shutaro chishiya #imagine chishiya

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Christmas with batboys

🎀Merry Christmas, everyone 🎀

I hope you'll enjoy this

Warnings: slightly spicy content

Rhysand:

Family dinner and celebration afterward is a must. It's tradition you all are looking forward

Last night Rhysand mentioned he has a special surprise for you, but he didn't want to share any details

And so you are waiting, excited

After opening the gifts when everybody is in good mood and bit drunken, Rhys finds your eyes and inconspicuously disappears to the hallway

You follow him

He leads you upstairs to your shared bedroom, playful smirk on his lips

"Finally alone," he grins closing the door behind you

You seriously can't wait any longer

"Will I get the special surprise you mentioned?"

He gives you a feral smile, lazily walking to you, hands in his pockets

"Don't be impatient, darling. You know that bad girls don't get presents."

After few playful kisses, slapping your ass he sends you to the bathroom to do your night routine

When you come out in a sexy underwear that Rhys prepared for you, you find him lying on the bed, watching you with shining eyes and smirking

Rhys is reclining on his side, completely naked except of a big red ribbon in his crotch, his muscles on full display

Your mouth waters, wetness between your legs growing

"Red suits you."

He's the most sexy male you've ever seen and he is fully aware of it

"Time to open your last present, darling," he purrs grinning wide

Let's say that the rest of night was full of Christmas themed games, but your most favourite was definitely "Santa's coming"

You will hardly ever forget the amount of orgasms this Santa gave you

Cassian:

When Rhysand disappears with his mate family party is over and Cassian is totally drunken or at least that's what you think

The moment you close the door of your room, he is sober, grinning at you with expectation

His eyes are darkening with lust

"Did you have a fun, doll?"

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun."

"But night is still young," wicked grin appears on his face

"How about you put in use the present I gave you," he pulls out the mentioned gift from behind his back

You blush fiercely. You haven't noticed he took it with him

When you opened it sitting with everyone under Christmas tree, you were really happy your friends were fully occupied with their own presents and didn't see contents of the box

Cassian opens the box and his strong fingers carefully catch and take out the sexy strapless bodice

It's red with gold details and white fur around the edges, red miniskirt with fur on its hem attached to it

There's also a thong made of strips and a small piece of lace in the same colour

"Will you wear this for me, doll?" One of his brows rises up and his grin turns feral

Your face is in flames, but you disappear to the bathroom to change

When you come out Cassian waits for you only in boxers

His eyes look you up and down, wings rustle with excitement, muscles of his broad chest tighten

"I knew it will suit you. Let me take a closer look, goddess," he pushes off of the wall and spreads his arms

You make a spin, so that he can see you from all sides

You can feel his gaze to caress your half naked ass, the skirt is too short to your taste, but you don't mind it when you see his arousal

That night you did it on every surface in your room and sadly several pieces of furniture were destroyed in the process

Next day you can't sit nor walk 😉

Azriel:

Azriel waits until everyone disappears and leaves the two of you alone

The house falls silent, fairy lights on Christmas tree and all around the room are lighten up, fire crackles in the hearth

You two take pillows and spread them on the floor in front of the hearth, shadows fish out glasses and bottle of wine

You make yourself comfortable

Azriel reaches to the shadows and pulls out small box

"Open it," he purrs to your ear leaving light kiss on the sensitive spot under it, his deep voice makes your heart skip a few beats

Carefully you accept and open it

On a satin pillow rest small angel with spread wings, its hands on chest holding blue gem of the same colour as Azriel's siphons

"Angel for my angel," he cooes

"It's beautiful, Az," you kiss his cheek. "I have something for you, too."

His eyes shine in excitement

Shadows bring your present from the kitchen and settle round box into Azriel's hands

"I know how much you love them," you smile while he opens the lid and finds his favourite strawberries in chocolate

"You noticed," he chuckles and eats one. "The best," he moans

"How could I not," you laugh at his expression and let him rest his head in your lap

You feed him the strawberries until box is empty, promising to make him more anytime he'd like

You spend next few hours talking until both of you become too tired to talk anymore

You quietly sit in your mate's embrace, your back pressed to his muscular chest, listening to his heartbeats while watching the dancing flames

Azriel's hands occasionally rub at your upper arms, caress your face, fingers draw circle on your body

He leans down kissing your cheek

You turn your head to the side giving him better access and his lips slowly travel to yours

His kiss is gentle at first, waves of love travel through your bond

After a while he changes your positions, now you both are lying on pillows

Azriel deepens the kiss, his hand starts to travel down your body, slips under your sweater and then once again trails up to cup your breast

You gasp

"What if somebody comes and sees us?"

"Don't worry, angel. They won't come down before the lunch. No one will disturb us," he says softly, his hazel eyes looking deep into yours

You can read all the love and lust in them. Your heart starts to beat faster

You hesitate for a moment, but not too long

It's impossible to turn your amazing mate down on this special evening especially with this romantic atmosphere

You smile and start to kiss him

Azriel groans in relieve into your mouth and passionately kisses you back

His wings spread behind his back, shielding you from any prying eyes

Shadows bring you a blanket and then disappear letting the two of you enjoy the night alone

That night was one of the most romantic ones you had with your mate

#christmas #acotar xmas #batboys Xmas #fluff #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar #merry christmas

[juyeonszn]

CLUMSY

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.03k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader and juhak are bio lab partners, juhak is lowkey a bit of a loser BUT DW HE REDEEMS HIMSELF, mentions of alcohol, a game of rage cage…, he’s down insanely bad, the flirting goes kinda crazy, someone calls the cops, they run from said cops, reader is Nawt wasting any time, pet names (juhak calls reader princess), tbh they’re both switches in some ways, kitchen sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie lol

SUMMARY when haknyeon ran into you at a tbz party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. or literally. or both simultaneously. but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

MORE andddddd here we go 🫡 second fic of the black out or back out collab 🙏 i forgot to link the masterlist in the last one so im gonna link it in this one in case u wanna read any of the others!! ANYWAY i had such a fun time writing this one, any excuse i get to write for juhak, i will take trust <3 if u enjoyed, don’t forget to reblog! and pls check out the other fics so far!!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

Okay. So maybe trying to secure a girlfriend at a party wasn’t exactly Haknyeon’s best idea.

But, hey. You had to give him some credit. At least he was making an attempt. Most of his other frat brothers weren’t even making an effort. They seemed perfectly satisfied with charming their ways into random girls’ pants every weekend. Unfortunately, or fortunately considering he was a gentleman, Haknyeon wasn’t into that sort of thing.

It was just a little embarrassing that Kim Sunwoo’s love life had more progress than his own. Sunwoo was literally the resident loser bitch boy of the TBZ house. How was he closer to getting a girlfriend than he was? It made absolutely no sense.

Ju Haknyeon thought of himself as a catch. He was pretty neat, his room was cleaner than most guys’ his age. He knew how to cook basic meals, again, more than the average college sophomore. His car wasn’t on its last leg. (Cough cough… Kim Sunwoo, I’m looking at you.) He was a decent dude. He supported women’s rights and wrongs!

Apparently that was not enough these days.

“…And I need you to make sure the fridge is stocked completely. I’m not trying to drink my coffee without cream tomorrow morning because some idiot drank it while they were drunk.” Sangyeon commands, typing something furiously on his phone as some of the other guys move around the furniture.

“Bruh, I was in charge of buying everything last time. Why can’t someone else do it?” Kevin groans. Something else that wasn’t Haknyeon’s best idea? Walking into the kitchen during this very conversation. “What about JuHak? He looks like he has nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Hak, I’m airdropping you the list.” Sangyeon waves his hand in dismissal, returning to his extensive presidential duties.

The sophomore deadpans, but doesn’t have the energy to argue back. You know, the usual fraternity was just a bunch of rich guys with more money than the tuition of each TBZ brother combined. However, the Tau Beta Zeta house was not your usual fraternity. It really was just a bunch of normal dudes thrown together. Though, Lee Sangyeon ran it like it was the fucking Navy.

Haknyeon accepts his defeat and grabs his things, heading out to the supermarket to shop for tonight’s party. Alcohol duty sucked more than door duty, in his opinion. You were sent out all alone, tasked with bringing back enough liquor and beer to last until early hours of the morning. It was a near impossible mission, unless you were Kevin Moon and good at practically everything in the world.

He pushes around the shopping cart mindlessly, though he knows he’ll have to make another trip. A long sigh leaves his lips as he enters the alcohol aisle. He fills the bottom of the cart with different cases of beer until he thinks he may drop one, and then starts to place things in the basket. He feels like a dumbass hauling it over to the registers, like everyone can see right through him.

He has to remind himself that this is for a good cause, that it’ll be worth it when everyone is enjoying themselves at the party. His actions won’t be in vain. Even after the second trip with another cart full of beer and various liquor bottles, Haknyeon keeps repeating affirmations in his head. This has to be the party.

In fact, he thinks his thoughts have manifested into reality when he sees you walking into the grocery store at the same time he’s leaving. You’re his pretty Bio lab partner. He’s always too nervous to hold a substantial conversation with you, so he settles for the bare minimum, which is unfulfilling small talk during your labs. It’s never what he needs though. Aside from your name, Haknyeon knows nothing about you.

“Y/N?” What he wants right now, however, is to shoot himself in the foot for sounding so unsure.

You glance up from your phone, a smile lighting up your face when you recognize him. “Haknyeon! Hey! What’s up?”

“Last minute preparations for the TBZ party tonight,” he gestures at his shopping cart with pursed lips. “You?”

“That’s so funny that you say that! My friends and I are going—“ You eye his cart with confusion. “Wait, I didn’t know you were in Tau Beta Zeta.”

“Yeah…” Haknyeon laughs awkwardly. “Surprise!”

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the frat boy type. Then again, TBZ isn’t your average frat so, I guess that kinda adds up.”

Haknyeon’s not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but since it’s coming from you, he decides that he will. The realization that you mentioned you’d be attending the party finally sets in at that same moment. “So, I’ll see you later, then?”

You nod, smile widening. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing a bottle for us to bring with. But I’ll be there. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

God, he hopes so. This is the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and learn everything he’s been dying to know about you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know… I’m a busy man. It might be a little hard.”

That cute little laugh of yours makes another appearance. “I’ll be on the lookout, don’t worry. See you tonight, Haknyeon.”

Ju Haknyeon thinks that he must’ve done something monumental in a past life, like saving a dog from a burning building or stopping a world war. How else would the universe reward him this kindly? All he can do is wave as you maneuver around an elderly couple passing by into the store.

Maybe Kevin Moon wasn’t that bad. And maybe Lee Sangyeon wasn’t as big of a tyrant as he made him out to be. He could actually kiss the ground they walked on for forcing him into alcohol duty. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have ran into you and he wouldn’t have known you were attending the party. Now he has something to look forward to that isn't getting shitfaced.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Haknyeon looks away from his mirror, Hyunjae standing in the doorway. He has a cringe on his face at the sight of his outfit. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever worn, but it was… a bit too much. A black button up and black slacks was admittedly not the best frat party fit. The only good thing he had going for him was his hair that was styled for once, parted so his bangs framed his face nicely.

“This girl I’m kinda into is coming tonight. I need to look irresistible.” The younger explains, arms flailing at his sides.

“Okay, well you won’t accomplish that in this,” Hyunjae snorts, digging through his closet. “If she’s into you too, she won’t care what you’re wearing. Just throw on something you’d normally wear. Like… this! This is nice.”

Hyunjae holds up a black t-shirt and a black-washed denim jacket. Haknyeon hums. It was simple, but also once he put it on he wouldn’t feel like a douchebag, which was the whole goal here. Paired with some khaki cargo pants, he’s found a winner. He begrudgingly thanks his senior for the assistance, shooing him out of his bedroom so he can mentally prepare for the night ahead of him.

He doesn’t even know what to bring up now that he really tosses the idea around in his head. Yeah, he wants to learn more about you and what you’re like outside of your Bio lab, but specifically what he couldn’t say. Haknyeon was starting to feel like a lost cause. He had to clutch up tonight. He had to woo you so much that you had no choice but to fall for his cute face and endearing personality. But how was he meant to do that if he couldn’t even come up with topics to talk with you about?

Maybe he was just thinking too far into things. Perhaps he should just let it all go with the flow. Moving at an au natural pace was probably his best bet in comparison to Sunwoo’s soccer ball plan. (He’s still confused how that worked in his favor.)

Before he knows it, the party is swinging into full effect. This is the first time Haknyeon’s ever been so socially aware of his surroundings. He had a habit of blurring his atmosphere at these things, more interested in getting drunk with his buddies than paying attention to the attendees. As he stands in a corner of the living room, listening to Chanhee complain about treasurer stuff, he watches each and every person who enters the house.

When you finally do walk in, he has to physically stop himself from choking on the beer in his cup, biting the rim of the plastic in a weak attempt to sedate himself. If he thought you were gorgeous before in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, he doesn’t know what to call you now. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, dolled up in a black mini skirt and a black cropped halter top while hugging a bottle of Pink Whitney to your chest. He could probably pass out right here right now.

He almost does, but then Chanhee is slapping his back aggressively. “Wipe the drool off of your chin. God, am I the only one who still has a brain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanhee, go cry about your life somewhere else.” Haknyeon dismisses his senior, downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage. Though he is, he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, so he’s not going up to you this quickly. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to get another drink, rolling his neck like he’s preparing for the biggest win of the century.

It’s as he’s pouring some jungle juice into a fresh cup that you see him. A smile similar to the one from the store graces your features. There was only one person with a back like that, and it was your cute lab partner. You keep an arm wrapped around your bottle, tapping his shoulder lightly. He spins around confusedly, but the expression morphs into pleasant surprise immediately after.

“Pink Whitney? Easy choice,” he points at the bottle in your grasp. “Are you a lightweight, Y/N?”

Your cheeks warm up at the teasing remark. Upon first meeting, Haknyeon’s been an awkward mess around you. You can only assume the confidence stems from the fact that he’s within his element. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were implying that you want me to get you drunk.” He tucks a hand into one of his jacket pockets, the other bringing his cup to his mouth. He’s unconscious of the source of this sudden bravery, but he prays it doesn’t fade off anytime soon.

“Maybe I do…” You bite your lip, undoing the seal of the Pink Whitney bottle to take a sip. It burns your throat slightly. “I’ve never hung out with a frat boy before. I kinda wanna see what the hype is all about.”

Haknyeon thinks he might pass out again, because if he wasn’t so acutely aware of your entire interaction, he would think you’re flirting with him. Friendliness was a double edged sword in this day and age. But who knows, maybe you are flirting. You showed up with your friends but they were nowhere to be found now. He needed to take advantage of the opening.

It’s around this time that Younghoon and Juyeon are bringing out the fated beer pong table, a crowd already beginning to form nearby. He feels sorry for the poor suckers who have to play Changmin and his girlfriend.

“We should play beer pong!” You suggest, watching the pair of taller guys setting up the cups over his shoulder. Haknyeon can sense the color draining from his face. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve shut the idea down insanely fast, but because it was you, he was genuinely contemplating. Those who went up against the infamous TBZ party beer pong champions were in for a rude awakening, but if you wanted to...

“Uh—“ He starts but then he’s interrupted.

“Yo! Who’s down to play Rage Cage?!”

Juyeon’s voice is somehow louder than the music, carrying into the kitchen where the two of you stand. Haknyeon wasn’t the greatest Rage Cage player, but he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than beer pong. Especially when he stood beside people who didn’t understand the concept of the game.

You chug some more Pink Whitney, batting your eyelashes up at Haknyeon. “I’ve never played Rage Cage. Is it fun?”

“If you’re next to the right people it can be, but if you aren’t, then it’s a whole lot of drinking. We haven’t played Rage Cage at a TBZ party in a while, but the last time we did Eric Sohn almost had to get his stomach pumped.” He laughs a little at the memory of his friend spending the rest of his night cuddling with a toilet seat. The mental picture overshadows how enticing you look right now.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You ask sweetly, hoping that he takes the hint. He seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t make the first move unless you forced him to, so it appeared that you had your work cut out for you.

“You wanna play?” He turns to you with wide eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to show interest in the game. You give him a small nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. The truth of the matter was that you were a fucking liar. You’ve played Rage Cage plenty of times in the past. You were actually pretty decent at it, too. You just needed an excuse to spend the night around him.

“We better head over there now. It looks like the table is filling up.” You jab your pinkie in that general direction. Haknyeon blows a raspberry and leads you that way, his hand resting on the small of your back so he won’t lose you in the pack of people surrounding the table.

“Forewarning, my rap sheet doesn’t really read World Class Rage Cage Champ,” he laughs nervously, the anxiety beginning to eat at him all over again. “But I promise, I won’t let you get stacked.”

When Haknyeon said he wasn’t the worst, but wasn’t good at Rage Cage, you took his word. Except he severely overplayed his own skill. Maybe he was just extremely on edge and it threw off his game, but the amount of times he was stacked on was a little comical. At the very least, he kept his promise. You hadn’t got stacked once, but that was also only because Haknyeon would drink for you every time you almost did.

The room is sort of spinning by the time the first game has finished. Playing a drinking game while he’s trying to get to know you better was probably at the higher portion of his ‘BAD IDEAS!!!’ list. If he wasn’t so eager to please and followed along to each of your suggestions, perhaps he’d be having a different conversation. That was not the case, though.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for the turn out. All you’d wanted was to flirt with your lab partner, possibly end the night with some making out. As it was looking, that’s not the path you were heading down, but rather towards the kitchen for some water to sober him up some. Your bottle of Pink Whitney is long lost, replaced with a bottle of H2O. You hold his chin, tilting it back slightly to pour some into his mouth.

If he hadn’t already had the fattest crush on you, he definitely did now. Pretty and nice? You were the total package. Here you were, nursing him back to sobriety when you could’ve been out and about enjoying yourself with your friends. Up this close, he gets a detailed look at you. It’s so weird for him to think about how much he’s pined after you since the start of the semester, how much he’s admired the face that’s looking at him with this unfamiliar tenderness. He never thought he stood a chance. You know, that whole ‘nice guys finish last’ pick me boy vibe.

“Y/N—” He’s cut short, Juyeon’s voluminous voice resonating throughout the house again, sans the music.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

Of course. Nobody ever calls the cops on a TBZ party but of fucking course the one time Haknyeon gets shoot his shot with you, someone narcs. He actually thinks he might die. He might keel over and die in the middle of this party while the cops are raiding the place. Lee Sangyeon is gonna be thrown in the back of a police cruiser for letting people drink underage and then send them his way because he bought all of the alcohol. This was just his luck.

Without a word, you grab his hand and drag him out through the back door. You follow the flock of other party goers escaping the wrath of the police. It’s difficult to run in a mini skirt and strappy heels, but you don’t really have room to whine about it. Haknyeon doesn’t know if there’s ever a right time to tell you that you could’ve just gone up to his room, but figures it’s too late when you're hopping the short fence that goes out to the main street of Greek Row.

One would think that he’d sobered up at this point since he was, you know, on the run from the law. Yet for some reason Ju Haknyeon himself doesn’t even know, he’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol, tripping over that stupid fucking fence and falling flat on his face. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy part just before the sidewalk, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

You don’t give him recovery time, pulling him to his feet. He holds a hand to the side of his face that received the harshest of the impact, expecting to wake up to a nasty bruise tomorrow. He’s also unsure where exactly you’re taking him, but is afraid of asking out of fear that you’ll send his ass back to the frat house and have him arrested or something. (He had a bad habit of over complicating situations and coming up with the worst possible scenarios.)

Once the commotion has died out and there’s no one else around, you slow your pace. You turn to face him with a grin, holding both of his hands in yours as you walk backwards. “Are you cool with staying the night at my place?”

Truly, Haknyeon needs to know what act of nobility he committed in his previous life. He needs to go back in time and thank himself for whatever it was. Even with fumble after fumble, he was somehow bouncing back and receiving major compensation for sticking it out. He swallows thickly, nodding dumbly when he realizes he hasn’t given you a proper response.

“Um… Yeah— I mean— yes. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.” He word-vomits, stumbling over his tongue rather than his feet. Being down bad was one of his strongest personality traits. And being clumsy was second strongest, so you don't even have to imagine how terrible a combination of both would be.

The walk to your apartment knocks any lingering inebriation out of his system. He’s entirely too hyper aware of what’s happening as you guide him in that direction. It’s cooler out, the temperature dropping in the nighttime as the end of the semester approaches. If there was another reason to be grateful for this party, it was because he no longer had to worry about not making a move before your last lab together. As much as he despised Biology, he’d take it every day if it meant getting to see you.

He actually feels like he may throw up as you reach your place, his hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket to hide the clamminess of his palms. His nerves are creeping up on him once more, a dark cloud looming over him. He shouldn’t be this jumpy at this point of the night. He should be composed, prepared to sweep you off your feet after spending so much time with you. Why the hell is he sweating bullets right now?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you curtsy. “Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe?”

“Th-That would be great,” Haknyeon forces out, waddling behind you into the kitchen like a baby duckling following its mother. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Really? Thank you!” You can’t help but giggle at his jitters and the way he keeps rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sense of déjà vu rushes over you when you pass him a cup. “Living alone has its perks, I guess. I like that I don’t have to argue with anyone about how to decorate and things like that.”

“It sounds a lot more enjoyable than living with a bunch of men in their early twenties,” he smiles weakly as he accepts the glass of water from you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thin the walls are in that house.”

“Do they have sex often?” You ask him bluntly, head cocking to the side almost innocently. He chokes on the water he just sipped, nearly spilling it onto the floor.

“W-What?” He sputters.

“I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about,” you shrug, facing away from him so you can grab yourself something to drink, also. “We should get back at them.”

You don’t know how many more bones you can throw for him to understand what you're insinuating. Even the frat boy comment you made earlier was intentional. Haknyeon’s mouth goes dry and his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s. What the fuck?

“I’ve never brought a girl back to the house before, because I don’t want them to make fun of me or something— not that I’m saying I would take you back to the house! I mean I just would feel bad if you also got made fun of— not that I’m referring to having sex with you or anything!” The glass in his hands is on the verge of slipping from his grip. “Not that I don’t want to have sex with you— oh my god— um wow, that’s a very lovely fruit bowl you have there I—“

“Hak,” you interject his rambling, wearing a mischievous smile.

The nickname drives him fucking insane. Scratch him possibly dying. If he isn’t dead by the end of the night, he’ll be shocked. Perplexed. Perturbed. Puzzled. Any shock-adjacent synonym you can think of. That will be him. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you shut up and kiss me already?”

Honestly, you don’t have to ask him twice. His lips are on yours in seconds, fingers fisting the material of your skirt at your hips to steel himself. You moan in response to the sheer frenzy behind his actions. It’s so easy to lose yourself in the haste of it; the way you tug at his hair, the blunt edges of his nails digging into your sides, the near clashing of your teeth. He nibbles at your bottom lip, sighing when you allow his tongue to permeate your mouth. He’s content to do nothing but this, kissing you is enough to satiate the desire he’s harbored for you for months. However, with the franticness of your kiss, he knows you want more.

He inches you both backwards until your lower back hits the counter, and then he’s cupping beneath your thighs to hoist you up. His strength sends tidal waves pulsing throughout your whole being, hurriedly pushing the material of his denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a care. Your hands travel south as his lips trail along your jaw and neck, sucking and biting your supple skin wherever he feels fit. He hisses into the dip where your collarbone meets your shoulder when you palm him through his pants.

“Fuck, babe, you want me bad, don’t you?” He mutters into the column of your throat, teeth sinking into the flesh after.

“Mhmm,” you whine, craning your neck to give him more access to the surface. It’s like a switch has flipped in him and it turns you on unbearably. This is what you’ve been trying to coax out of him all night.

Haknyeon pries apart your legs, slotting himself between them so he can sneak his fingers beneath your skirt. His thumb rubs tight circles into your clothed clit, the lace of your underwear damp with your arousal. He connects your lips again, groaning into your kiss when he moves the fabric aside and slides his knuckle through your folds. You buck up your hips, whimpering when he holds them down with his forearm.

“Want more,” you gasp when he applies a bit of pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“‘More’ what? Use your words, princess,” he instructs, tracing your entrance with his ring finger.

You shake your head because you’re not even sure what it is that you want. You just know that this isn’t enough to quell the hunger burning at your chest. It’s not nearly sufficient to fan the flames in the depths of your heart or the ache in the pit of your abdomen. You need him everywhere. It’s beyond him being your cute Bio lab partner now.

He urges you onto your elbows, pecking the plane of your stomach. He pushes up your skirt and discards your panties, baring you to the cool air of your apartment. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your clit gently. Your head is light and airy and it’s like you’re on cloud nine. Haknyeon hums against you, pulling off to scold you.

“Eyes open, baby,” he nudges his nose on your pelvic bone. “Want you to watch me eat you out.”

The moan you release is strained, like it had been confined in the back of your throat for ages until this moment. He flattens his tongue and licks a line from your hole to your clit, suckling the engorged skin and repeating. Your eyelids are heavy, keeping your intense gaze on him as he all but makes out with your pussy. He focuses his mouth on your clit and slips his middle finger into you. He pumps it in and out languidly, setting a rhythm that matches each swirl of his tongue around your clit.

The whole scene still feels unreal to both of you, like you might wake up from a wet dream or something. How was it possible that Ju Haknyeon was finger fucking you on your kitchen counter? Just a couple days ago, you were sitting side by side in your Biology lab, too nervous to initiate a substantial conversation. You’d think it would be harder to slob on someone’s knob than it would be to talk to them while wearing a fuckass lab coat and goggles.

Haknyeon works his forearm up, pinning down your thighs so your cunt is fully accessible. He adds a second finger to the mix, thrusting them at a higher speed and increasing the unrelenting sucking of your bundle of nerves. He can tell you’re creeping closer towards your climax with the way your walls clench around him and your hips continue to jerk up. And considering the kind of person he was, you figured he would aid you rather than hinder you. But you figured wrong.

He slows his assault, removing his mouth from your clit and leaving the stimulation at just his two fingers. You whine, lip quivering when he looks up into your eyes.

“W-Why are you— what are you doing?” You plead, hating the tone of your voice. The tables have turned, with you sitting beside desperation. This is so unlike you— so unlike the usual domineering aura you exude during sex— your body reacting differently to the power falling through the cracks within your grasp.

“Don’t you wanna savor the moment, princess?” He sounds so cocky, a far cry from the wavering confidence you’d always seen out of him. He kisses the skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the area you need him most, all the while he continues curling and uncurling his fingers.

The precipice of your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. But Haknyeon holds it just out of reach, dangling it in your face like teasing a dog with a chew toy. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a false sense of hedonism building and building, then slowly ebbing away each time he retracts. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Just when you’ve given up hope, he adds a third finger and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. The sudden and unexpected intrusion snaps that familiar cord in half, blinding you with white hot pleasure. The groan that escapes from the base of your chest is guttural, echoing throughout the kitchen. You don’t have it in you to worry about waking your neighbors, especially not when you feel the curve of a smile against your cunt, such an uncharacteristic response from Haknyeon.

Your legs spasm as the height of your orgasm calms. You pull him down for a wanton kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He laughs at the role swap, hands flat on the counter to hold him over you. “Feel good?”

“So good, Hak,” you murmur into his lips. “Think you can fuck me like that next?”

“So impatient,” he snickers, pecking along your jaw once more. “But since you’ve been so good for me, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

You clumsily undo the button and zipper of his cargoes, pushing them down with your foot. He steps out of them and kicks them away while simultaneously removing his t-shirt. You take your top off and shimmy out of your skirt, raising an eyebrow at the narrowed look in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “But, I don’t care if you wear one. I’d rather feel you raw, anyway.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “God, you’re killing me. Okay.”

He shoves down his briefs and you have to stop yourself from gawking at his size. While he wasn’t the biggest, he was definitely bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with. He pumps himself a couple times, guiding his length to your entrance and throwing his head back when the tip presses into you. This was really happening, holy shit. Ju Haknyeon was actually having sex with you.

Your toes curl and you stab your nails into your palms to distract from the stinging stretch. He eases into you with the occasional grunt, minding your expressions for any signs of discomfort. When all he sees is your features contorted to display pleasure, he resumes. By the time he’s bottomed out completely, both of you are moaning messes. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with the weight of his cock.

“I’ve wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long,” he admits, speaking the words into your sticky skin as he drags himself out only to piston back in. The action throttles you a bit, your eyes tempted to roll to the back of your head from how fucking good it feels. You can’t conjure coherent thoughts to properly convey how many endorphins are coursing through your veins.

Haknyeon sets a pace that combines the perfect amount of speed and depth, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep in your cunt. Your brain is hazy and your vision blurs, hardly able to see anything in front of you. His mouth attaches to the pulse point on your neck, ensuring he bruises the area.

“Y-You’re— fuck— you’re s-so deep, Hak. I can feel you all over,” you wail, bringing one of his hands to tamp your lower stomach. The pressure contributes to the growing tension of your second orgasm, something you know will collide into you with even more exertion than the first.

“Yeah? You’re taking me s-so well, baby. No one else has ever fucked you this good, right?” Sweat beads on his hairline, dripping down his temples with every thrust of his hips and every drive of his cock into your sweet pussy. Even if he really did somehow manage to die tonight, he could do it with integrity. He could go out with the honor of a fallen soldier knowing that he got to experience this at least once in his life.

He hikes one of your knees up to your chest, burying his dick deeper if humanly possible. You arch your back, pushing into his chest to minimize the space between you, antsy at the promise of another release as mind blowing as the last. He brings you to the edge of the counter so you’re now hip to hip. Haknyeon snakes a hand in the middle of your bodies, using his thumb to rub circles into your clit. That stimulation coupled with the depth of his cock encourages the fluttering of your walls, in turn drawing out the state of bliss you’ve been chasing.

Your vision goes blank, stars painting the behinds of your eyelids. A second orgasm crests upon you and evokes a moan so pornographic, it sounds far away from you. It’s a dreamlike euphoria, an almost out of body experience that puts every other orgasm to shame. The surface of your skin is hot to the touch.

“Where do you want me, princess?” Haknyeon asks breathily. In the calamity of your own release, you nearly forgot about his until you register the twitching inside of you. It pauses the static in your ears, returning the volume of the world to its normality.

“Cum inside of me,” you whine, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. He doesn’t need to be told another time, grip tightening on your thigh as he spills into your cunt.

The two of you stay still for a moment, allowing clarity to flow into your brains. You wince when he finally has half the mind to pull out, his nose scrunching up at the sensitivity. He slides his underwear back on, extremely conscious of how naked he is right now. He has an inkling that you were anticipating that this would happen, because why else would you ask him to stay over tonight? But, he is the Ju Haknyeon that you’ve sat next to this entire semester in your Biology lab. So he couldn’t just march forward without a little overthinking and self deprecation.

“Do you still want me to stay?” His voice has reverted back to that small, unsure tone. You sit up quickly, alarmed by the twinge of disappointment underneath it.

“Of course, I do,” you pout, kissing his cheek and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, Hak. Sure, maybe I skipped a couple steps in between, but I have wanted this so badly— I have wanted you so badly— for you don’t even know how long.”

He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. He leaves a sweet kiss on your lips, softer and gentler than the ones from earlier that night. He’s intentional with the way he glides them in harmony, like he was following the melody of the most beautiful song. “Oh trust me, I think I have an idea.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

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