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#like does my life flash before my eyes every time
hauntedchoso · 2 days
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GROUPIE LOVE *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
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It’s so sweet swingin’ to the beat when I know that you’re doin’ it all for me…  How the JJK men fuck you after a show ft. [gojo, geto, toji, choso, & nanami] x [fem reader] nsfw warning. minors do not interact. cw: breeding in gojo’s, daddy kink, semi-exhibitionism, choking, degradation, name calling. established relationships in all despite the title! a/n: idk if I’m happy with this lol. i am certainly no writer and have NO plans to write regularly or even keep posting but this fic was born from my mini head cannon that choso looks like vinny mauro from motionless in white….the way vinny does his makeup for shows specifically reminds me of Choso’s blood marks and baggy red eyelids lol. mann I’m upset bc the header I made is shit :(
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Gojo is the singer. His icy white hair and electric blue eyes are quick to capture the hearts of his screaming fans—but those eyes only search for one person in the crowd. Your heart skipped a beat the moment he stepped onto the stage, and when he finally sees you, he flashes you that award-winning smile, bringing the mic up to his perfect lips. “How are we doing tonight, everyone? We’re going to play a song we’ve never performed live before…”
His presence was magnetic, attracting the attention of hundreds of screaming girls as he sang romantic melodies into the mic. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with each word and the way the veins on his hand stuck out as he clutched the mic tightly. Every lyric he sang told a story, and you knew better than all the other girls in the room—he was telling your story. The story of your sweet nights together, the nights you spent gazing into a sea of cerulean blue behind white eyelashes while basking in Gojo’s presence and the beauty of his voice. It was absolutely beautiful, the sweet vibrato’s and clear pitches that escaped his lips as he serenaded his crowd—but it didn’t compare to the beauty of his voice when he was underneath you. 
“Fuck, baby—just like that…haah, god damn. You’re so damn tight,” he moaned, unable to keep up with the way your ass slammed down on his thighs. The harder you rode him, the more undone he became underneath you—such a stark contrast to the confidence he always held when he took the stage. His long, pretty cock stroked against your gummy walls, his mushroom head grazing your g-spot when you raised yourself high enough, driving you crazy. 
“Satoru,” you mewl, absolutely loving the way his hands grip your thighs for dear life. You guys didn’t have much time; it would only be a few minutes before the rest of the guys returned to the tour bus, where you were holding Gojo as your hostage on the bench-couch in the small kitchenette. You ignored the burning in your muscles as you urged yourself to go faster, not giving him a chance to run away as you brought yourself down repeatedly on his warm cock that was throbbing so deliciously inside your clenching cunt. “Cum in me, daddy, I need it—“
“You better fucking watch it,” he moaned through clenched teeth, frustration seeping into his tone, the grip on your left thigh becoming harder. He couldn’t control how his cock throbbed inside you when he heard the word daddy, and it didn’t help that your luscious tits were bouncing so beautifully in his face. If you weren’t moving so fast, he’d have a nipple in his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around it. Quickly becoming overwhelmed by the way your tight cunt clenched around his raw dick, he squeezed his eyes shut, silently willing himself to last longer than he knew he would. He knew you weren’t on birth control, and if you continued to call him daddy in such a slutty tone…well, you’d probably make him a daddy. 
His frustration only egged you on more. “I want your cum in me so bad…haah, please…I’m such a little slut for you, daddy. Don’t you wanna fill me with your seed—“
Before you could process what was happening, Gojo had your back flat against the couch, nudging your thighs back apart as he slid himself inside you again, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “You want my cum, you fucking slut? Want me to breed you like a bitch in heat? Fine, you better lay there and take everything I give you.”
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Geto is the guitarist. The way his gorgeous black hair falls around his face as he slings his guitar strap over his shoulder is mesmerizing. His gauged ears are sporting their usual shiny black plugs, which catch the stage lights with each turn of his head. You watch from the side of the stage, hidden from the view of his fans, as his fingers pluck his lucky guitar pick out from between his perfect teeth, bringing the pick down to play a warm-up riff. He gives you one last sly smile, and a sweet, sexy wink before he starts the opening riff to their first song. 
He played his guitar like it was an extension of himself. You watched as his palm slid up and down the instrument’s neck as he followed along to the score, making hundreds of screaming girls howl as he paused and swung it harshly to his right side, flipping it over his neck and catching it again. There was something different about hearing him play the same riffs on stage that he would practice with in the comforts of your shared bedroom, lounging lazily in your queen-sized bed as you close your eyes to the quiet strumming. No, hearing it on a stage was way more exhilarating—he might have thousands of fans in front of him, but you know he’s only playing for you. Watching his long, beautiful, skilled fingers tap away at the neck of the guitar, eliciting different melodic tones and notes when he strums gently. It almost reminds you of the noises his fingers elicit out of you. 
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Is this all for me?” He purrs into your ear. The same hand that was gently choking you was also keeping your back pinned to the wall as his other hand, shoved deep past the waistband of your skinny jeans, toyed with your weeping folds and rubbed gently against your clit.  He smiles down at his lucky guitar pick resting comfortably in your cleavage, loving the way the lacy shirt he bought you accentuates your beautiful body. 
“You looked so fucking hot on stage tonight….” You manage to whine out. Your heart was racing out of your chest, eyes darting all around the room that today’s venue designated as the band’s dressing room. A music tech, security guard, or even one of Geto’s band mates could barge in at any given moment, but his fingers were relentless as they slipped into your core. 
Your eyes rolled back as you felt your pussy welcome in his digits and clench around them. The hand around your neck slid up to your jaw, gripping your face and turning you to face him again. “Yeah? If I’m so hot, why are you looking away from me, pretty girl? My eyes are right here.”
He emphasized his words by curling his fingers against your g-spot, cutting off your mewls of pleasure with his lips and immediately sliding his tongue inside. You were so drunk, so intoxicated by his lips that you felt your eyes rolling back again before shutting and moaning into the kiss; a kiss that was way too short-lived. “Just one, baby. Cum for me just once, and I’ll dick you down the way your little cunt desperately needs it.”
You complied, reverting all your focus to his fingers until you finally came all over them with a loud, slutty moan. 
He whipped you around almost immediately, pressing your chest to the wall, pulling your hips out, yanking your pants down and unzipping his own before slapping his hard cock on your ass. “Say please, baby,” he whispers in your ear, taking note of the way you press your ass eagerly against him. 
“Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me so bad—!”
And before you could even finish your sentence, Geto was pushing into your warm pussy, using small, gentle thrusts to ease himself in until he was bottomed out. You could feel your walls sucking his hard cock in when his thrusts became deeper; sharp, percussive moans leaving your mouth with each slap of his hips against your ass. His pace was fast and mean, and you were completely enamored with the feeling of his balls slapping your clit. 
“Suguru—!” You could feel your orgasm approaching, your walls contracting and clenching around his pulsing cock, but that only made him go faster. 
“Dirty little slut. You love when I use you like this, don’t you, angel? Taking my cock like the sweet little slut you are…haah. Letting me use my pussy the way I want, wherever I want…”
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Toji is the bassist. The long-necked guitar always looked so small and draped so beautifully across his large, muscular frame whenever he played—so different than the way it looked against your naked body on those nights he was in the mood to snap some photos of both of his beauties. His eyes met yours under the black fringe of his bangs, the scarred side of his mouth curling up into a smirk as his fingers found each string and plucked. 
You watched as his fingers danced across the four strings, mindlessly plucking at the four strings, amazed at the way the colorful stage lights were gracing his face and muscular arms. His bass lines were so effortless; he didn’t even need to look down at his hands while he played. His eyes would instead scan the crowd, casting uninterested glances at all the fans screaming his name, and occasionally coming back to meet your own, always accompanied by the sweetest, sexiest grin that reminded you that he was yours. The deep notes that harmonized with Geto’s guitar reverberated off the walls of the concert hall; they shook the speakers, the shook the barriers, they shook your core. But his deep bass lines were no match for how deep his cock always reached inside you. 
“Toji! Ah—fuck!” You choked out, tears streaming down your face as the tip of his cock repeatedly mashed against your cervix. “I’m gonna cum! Ah—please! Daddy! I’m really gonna cum!” You warned. 
“Yeah? Fucking cum then, slut. I’m not fucking this cunt for nothing.”
When Toji invited you to shower with him after the show, you weren’t expecting him to shove you against the shower wall and fuck you like a wild animal from behind as soon as the water hit your hair. While your showers together always ended in you two fucking, you never thought he’d choose a place so public, a place that puts you both at risk of being heard by your closest friends. This seemed to be the last thing on Toji’s mind as he continues to bully his mean cock into your aching pussy. His eyes remained on your ass, watching his cock pistoning in and out of you while your plump cheeks jiggled with each mean thrust. He knew you got loud when you came, and while it was something you were trying to suppress in order to save face from any of his band mates or techs that might be lingering around outside the bathrooms, it was his one and only goal. 
And you did. As soon as he reached his hand down to rub your sensitive clit, you clenched hard on his throbbing cock. Your back arched deeply against him as you squirted hard against the shower wall, a loud squeal leaving your lips. 
He grabs your wet hair, turning your head to the side so he can silence you with a bruising kiss. “Gonna do it again, mama? Gonna cum all over my cock again?” He whispers evilly against your ear once he pulls away, quickening his pace. His hips slap hard against the globes of your ass, the loud clap clap clap echoing off of the insulated shower walls. 
“Y-yes, daddy, I wanna cum again—“ your words were cut off when he slid two fingers into your mouth, groaning when you bite down on them. 
His thrusts were unforgiving, pulling out far enough so that his fat mushroom head pressed harshly against your g-spot when he thrusted forward and hit your cervix. You were so cockdrunk, Toji could sense your oncoming second orgasm before you could by the way your walls were clenching down so hard on him. Before you knew it, you were squirting again, this time pulling a louder, sluttier squeal from your lungs. 
“Good girl,” he praises, a wide smile spread across his face as he continued to pound you into overstimulation. “Music to my fucking ears.”
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Choso is the drummer. You loved the way those spiked pigtails bounced in the wind as he head banged along to the loud thumping of his drums. His chocolate brown eyes would occasionally meet yours through the band’s set, peaking brightly above the black stripe across his nose, the purple stage lights reflecting across his irises. During the bridge of a particularly romantic song, he cast his gaze towards where you stood side-stage. With a drumstick tipped in your direction, he made sure your eyes were on him as he shot you a wink before his drum solo, as if to say, “this one’s for you.”
Choso pounded on his drums as if he hated them, shaking the stage and speakers so intensely with his mean percussion that you could feel your throat vibrate. You didn’t care what anyone said, Choso controls the show; he counts everyone in, he sets the tempo, he decides how hard his band plays by how he wants to play—and boy, does he play hard. He was often breaking his sticks and putting dents in his drumheads, going through countless numbers of each with every tour he went on. Everything about Choso was hard—the way he plays, his toned muscles, his thick cock, the way he fucks you. 
“Ch-Choso! Haah…h-oh my god, you’re so-!” Your hands clutched at everything they could grab so that you could hold on for dear life—the cymbals, the casings on the side of the drums, the drum stands themselves—but to no avail. “Fuck, you’re so deep!”
Choso snickered at your pathetic attempts to stabilize yourself, the sight only driving his hips against your ass even harder. He had you bent over his drum set, the harsh slaps of your skin-on-skin contact echoing throughout the empty concert hall. He purposely made sure to leave his drums on stage as he helped tear down the rest of the set, waited until his band mates disappeared, and ushered every tech, security guard, and janitor out before he stalked and captured his prey, dragging you back to his den. “Don’t run from my cock now, princess. Isn’t this what you wanted? You were giving me slutty bedroom eyes throughout the whole show.”
He paused his violent thrusts for a moment, driving his hips backward to slowly brush the tip of his cock against your g-spot. He marveled at the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around him as he teased your sopping wet core. 
“Yes, baby…” you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious stimulation. 
His hips jerked forward, meeting your ass with a singular mean thrust. “I’m sorry?”
You yelp at the sudden jolt of pain and pleasure, eyes snapping wide open as his fingers dig deeper into your hips. “Daddy! Yes, daddy! I want you! Please!” you babble desperately. 
Choso gave your ass one harsh smack before pounding into you again, settling on an unforgiving pace. He loved fucking you hard. Your walls always clenched him so tight, and he loved your cute little squeals you’d let out whenever his cock kissed your cervix. He loved how hard you always came from it, too—it only made him want to fuck you impossibly harder and deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, and he admired the way your ass jiggled each time he slammed against it. The sound of him fucking you created its own erotic percussion that you both somehow loved more than the actual sound of his drums. 
“I’ma cum, ohmygod! Ch-Choso…daddy, fuck! I’m cumming!” You whine, unable to focus your gaze as fat tears blur your vision and spill down your face. 
“Good girl. Cum for me, pretty baby,” he moans, rubbing your clit in gentle praise as you spasm all over his throbbing length. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all fucked out and dumb on my cock.”
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Nanami is the manager. His blond hair was always combed into a perfect style, and his soft, brown eyes focused on his surroundings as he effortlessly orchestrated the commotion around him. There was a certain calmness that surrounded him as he guided the band through every moment of post-concert teardown. Every once in a while, his eyes would land on you, where you sat quietly on one of the speaker cases backstage, ignoring his gaze with a small pout across your lips. 
The guys in the band would sometimes get a little too crazy after shows or on days off, and they have proved time and time again that they needed someone to keep them in check. Whether it’s passing out drunk outside of local bars, damaging and losing their gear, showing up late to sound checks, or simply being divas with attitude, Nanami swore that he was in charge of a bunch of children, and that you—his perfect girl—were the only one who could do no wrong. Even on nights like tonight, when you were upset with him for reasons that were beyond him, he was happy to pull you aside and get you in check as well.
His lips were on yours, tongue swirling around your mouth as he drank in your moans with fervor. His fingers laced through your hair, resting against the back of your head and using that placement to press your lips more firmly against his as his other hand pressed you against his body. He breaks the kiss for a moment to suck small hickies into your neck. 
“What’s got you so worked up tonight, my angel?” He murmurs against your neck, his hot breath sending goosebumps down the length of your spine. “I let you ignore me all evening, but you can’t hide from me now.”
“Kento…what-what about the guys?” You ask innocently, a small gasp leaving your lips as his teeth nip the skin over your pulse point rather hard. 
“Let’s see; Suguru’s in the dressing room, Toji and his woman are putting on a second concert in the shower, pretty sure I saw Satoru sneak onto the bus…” Nanami uses a finger to tilt your chin up, your eyes meeting his, “and Choso’s slutting himself out on stage. Where does that leave me to take my girl, hmm?”
Before you could even answer, he’s kissing you again, whisking you through a side door that exits outside behind the concert venue. Your eyes snap open as you feel a sudden breeze hit your skin, causing you to break the kiss. 
“Out here? But-“
He silences you with a hand to your throat. “Yes, pretty girl. Out here. Now tell me what you need, okay?”
Your eyebrows pinched in frustration. His strong hand choking you only aroused your needy cunt. You were supposed to be upset with him for being too busy for you that day, but the sultry tone in his voice was making you horny. 
“I need you…please, daddy. I missed you so much today. I need you to fuck me so bad.”
And before you know it, he has your feet off the ground, legs wrapped around his hips and your back against the hard brick wall as he bullies his cock into your cunt relentlessly. Your moans echo into the night sky, surely being heard by anyone lingering outside the nearby bars and restaurants as Nanami’s balls make harsh contact with your ass with each unforgiving thrust. “You like being a brat? Hm? Knowing daddy will fuck you nice and hard? I didn’t know my perfect girl was such a needy little slut.”
“Yes—yes! Right there, daddy!” You cry, pure ecstasy making your legs shake as his fat, veiny cock brushes the inside of your walls. “Haah—nnggh fuck, I’ma cum…” you slur, drool escaping from the corner of your lips as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 
“That’s right, princess—give it to me. Give me everything. You like when I fuck you dumb, don’t you, baby? You’re so cute when you’re being a brat. Next time, though, I won’t be as gentle.”
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BONUS FOR MY METALCORE GIRLIES
gojo's vocals / geto's riffs / toji's basslines / choso's drumming
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a/n: i probably won’t post again lol. 
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cameronspecial · 8 hours
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good morning, good afternoon or good night depending on the time you see this . Excuse my English, I'm using the translator.I wanted to ask for an imagine about dad Rafe, where his son (Theo/Luca or whatever name you prefer) besides being jealous of his mother (not letting Rafe give him kisses, pushing him so they don't hug, etc.) at his young age He starts calling Rafe "Rafe" instead of "Papa", I think it would be a nice imagine
Oedipus Rex
Pairing: Dad! Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Jealous Rafe.
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.6K
A/N: This is a great idea and don't worry, your English is great!
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Theo is the love and entire world of Rafe’s life, along with Y/N of course. However, right now, all Rafe wants to do is force his son to stay in his room. Not because his son is being bad, but because Rafe is jealous of the child. Y/N’s eyes are on the TV while Theo is snuggled under her arm. For the past three minutes, Rafe has been trying to sit on her other side so he can watch with her, but every time he steps closer, Theo’s eyes narrow at his dad. Deciding to ignore his son’s judgment, he plops down beside his wife and leans over to kiss her. Theo has other plans though, leaving Rafe’s lips to fall on his hand. Rafe’s eyebrows knot together and he groans, sitting back up to continue watching. 
———
Y/N has just returned home from work and Rafe goes to greet her. Before he can kiss his wife, tiny footsteps patter past him and Theo throws himself into his mom’s arms. She leans down to pick him up in her arms. Theo peppers his mom's cheek with kisses. The boy pulls back and Rafe goes in to try to kiss his wife; however, Theo’s tiny hand places itself on his dad’s shoulder and pushes him away. “No, my mommy,” he protests, wrapping his arms around his mom’s neck. Rafe looks to her for back up and she only shrugs, “I think he is probably just hangry. Why don’t we get him something to eat?” “Okay. I just think it is unfair that he gets all of your cuddles,” he grumbles, following his family to the kitchen. 
———
Rafe has to set his foot down at some point and it is definitely going to be now. When he got out of the bathroom after he finished getting ready from bed, he found Theo in bed with his wife. His son is pressed up against Y/N, cuddling at her side. “I thought he was supposed to be sleeping in his own room now. He’s six. That’s old enough to be sleeping by himself,” Rafe complains. He gets into bed and tries to bring his wife to his side, yet Theo stops him. “No, Rafe. I can only cuddle Mommy.” Hearing his son say his legal name crosses his line. “My name is Papa to you, Theo. I’m your dad, not your friend,” he criticizes, crossing his arms over his chest. Theo ignores his father and falls asleep instead. Once he is sure his son is sleeping, Rafe leans over to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “I don’t like how possessive he is of you.” She giggles with a shake of her head, her fingers lacing through Theo’s hair. “I can think of two reasons why he is acting like this. One. He is going through the phallic stage of Freud’s psychosexual stages, which means he is experiencing the Oedipus complex. He sees you as a threat and wants to replace you. But I think that one is creepy, so my favourite is number two. He is just modelling your possessive behaviour. I told you it was going to bite you in the ass one day,” she rattles off, reminding Rafe of the fact that she has a doctorate in psychology. Annoyance flashes on his face, “Ugh, why does my amazing wife have to be so smart? You did tell me so and I didn’t listen to you, so I’m sorry. If I had known I was teaching him to be a little asshole, then I would’ve listened to you.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “You didn’t just call our son an asshole,” she baffles. Rafe shrugs, “Act like an asshole, get called an asshole. It’s okay though. I’m going to stop being possessive and he’ll stop acting like an asshole. I promise.” She rolls her eyes. “I highly doubt that is going to happen, but whatever you say,” she says, turning to turn the lights off. Rafe copies her actions and lies against his pillow. “Goodnight, I love you,” he bids her. “I love you too, goodnight.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura
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sagesolsticewrites · 2 days
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i thought we had no chance (and that’s romance)
You resolve to tell Anthony about your feelings— with surprising results. (Part Two to Better Kind of Best Friend)
a/n: huge shoutout to Winnie for once again coming through with an absolutely incredible playlist!!! ily bestie 🥹
Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, literally the softest smut y’all have ever read in your LIFE), swearing
Word count: 3.3k (omg she’s a long one)
Read Part 1 here!
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It was finally time.
Anto had finally gotten a break from all the press, and he was coming home for a well-deserved vacation before his next project.
You had been mulling it over ever since his last… ahem, visit, and you decided that you had to tell him how you felt. It had started to hurt too much every time he left in the middle of the night, every time he unceremoniously dropped by for a quick fuck and a brief hangout before he was gone once again.
A few days after you’d resolved to tell him, the two of you had made hasty arrangements to see each other— the “hasty arrangements” being a quick series of texts sent in the middle of the night when you were feeling particularly hot and bothered, resulting in an agreement that he’d show up the next evening.
The next day, you’d spend hours mulling over what you’d say, how you’d broach the subject with him, planning for every possible rejection— not daring to let yourself even think about the possibility that he might feel the same. And that evening, there would be a knock on your door.
You jump at the rap of knuckles on wood, adjusting your cropped shirt and sleep short set and taking a deep breath before answering.
“Hey—”
The cheerful greeting dies on your lips as you take in the new addition to Anto’s appearance.
A thick, neatly trimmed beard stretches over his cheeks and chin, making his bright smile somehow appear whiter as he grins at you.
“Hey, Y/N,” he says, a cheeky glint in his eye that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, “So… whaddaya think?”
You step aside to let him in, still speechless. It looks fucking incredible on him, of course it does, and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like on the sensitive skin of your neck, if it would scrape deliciously between your thighs, if it— No, you mentally scold yourself, bad Y/N. Not thinking about that right now.
“It, uh…” you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, “You look really good, Anto.”
“Thanks, I knew you’d think so,” he grins, eyes sparkling. His hand moves towards your waist and you force yourself to step out of his reach, trying very, very hard to ignore the brief flash of hurt in his eyes.
“Actually, uh… I was hoping we could talk about something?”
“Oh, I— yeah, of course,” he says, that familiar furrow of concern appearing between his brows as you move to the couch.
“So…” you begin uncertainly; despite the hours you’d spent practicing, you were still unsure of how to start this conversation, “You know how when we started… this,” you gesture between the two of you, “neither of us was really looking for a relationship? And we agreed that it would be a good arrangement, no feelings, no messy emotions, just… stress relief, for lack of a better term.”
You wait until he nods to confirm he’s listening to continue, “And remember how… we’d been friends for so long, we were sure neither one of us would ever want more…”
He nods again slowly, as if he sees where you’re going with this but wants to wait until you confirm it.
“Well— I, um…” You take a deep breath, determinedly avoiding his gaze as you steel yourself, “I guess my heart didn’t really get the memo because, uh… I’ve been seriously falling for you for a while now.”
You clamp down on your bottom lip as your whole body tenses, bracing yourself for the end of one of the longest and best friendships you’d ever had.
“Y/N…” He breathes, his fingertips grazing yours, “I— please tell me you mean that. Please tell me it hasn’t just been me.”
Wait, what?
Your head snaps up, your bewildered eyes meeting his own tender gaze.
“Anto, what do you—”
“I’ve been head over fucking heels for you, Y/N,” he says softly, thumb stroking over the back of your hand, “for… frankly, longer than I care to admit.”
“Wait, I—” your brain scrambles to process his confession, your heart melting as you realize he truly does feel the same, “You mean all this time we could’ve been—”
You’re not sure when you moved so close to Anto, but now there’s barely an inch of space between the two of you as your clasped hands rest on your legs.
“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, Y/N,” he says softly, tender brown eyes locked on your features, “but you seemed happy with what we had, and I didn’t want to put our friendship at risk—”
“I felt exactly the same,” you say, voices overlapping, “I hated the thought of ruining what we had.”
“Seems like if we had just talked about this a little sooner we could’ve been enjoying more than our current arrangement,” Anto says with a soft smile.
Your heart melts at the overflowing love in his expression as his hand comes up to cup your cheek— how had you not seen it before?
“Maybe we could start by making up for lost time,” you say softly, your eyes flicking down to his plush lips.
With a slight nod, Anto slowly leans in, pausing to meet your eyes as your noses brush as if to make doubly sure that this is really what you want before carefully slotting his lips to yours.
His lips are exactly as soft against yours as you’d imagined them to be, and you can’t help but let out a contented little sigh as your hands come up to cup his face.
What you aren’t prepared for, however, is the slight tickling sensation that accompanies his beard, and you pull away with a soft squeal, face slightly scrunched up.
The concern on his face is immediate.
“No, no, I just—” you scramble to assure him through your smile before Anto can say anything, your thumbs stroking through the surprisingly soft hair covering his cheeks, “It tickles.”
He huffs out a soft laugh, pulling away teasingly, “You know, I don’t have to—”
“Excuse me,” you grin, raising an eyebrow, “When did I say I wanted you to stop?”
His lips land back on yours with a laugh, your heart turning impossibly light as you feel him smiling into the kiss. Anto’s arm — the one with the hand not tenderly cupping your cheek as if you were made of porcelain — winds around your back, pulling you closer as one of your hands finds its way into his hair.
You’re truly not sure how long you stay like that — could be minutes, could be hours — but at some point you end up straddling him, hands buried in his luscious hair as his arms squeeze you tight against him, hands roaming all over your body.
You don’t even realize you’ve begun to slowly rock against him until his breath hitches and he pulls away.
You freeze, terrified you’ve done something wrong.
“What, what is it?”
“Nothing, darling, nothing,” he assures you, and you melt at the pet name as he continues, “I just… If you want to… If we’re gonna do this— not that we have to, of course, but if we are, I… I wanna do it properly. Not on your couch, as delightful as that may be,” he finishes with a soft smile, searching your gaze intently.
You smile, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck, your nose brushing his as you whisper “I do want to.”
Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from his embrace, leaning to press one more tender kiss to his lips as he stands before guiding him to your bedroom.
You turn to him as he enters, a sudden nervousness overwhelming you as it hits you that this is really happening.
The pure love and adoration shining on his face as you face him, however, banishes any trace of anxiety. You melt into his touch as he cups your face, his thumb stroking tenderly along your cheek.
“I fucking adore you,” he breathes.
And then his mouth is on yours, and your mind is empty of everything but him.
His free hand slides down to rest on your hip, using the slightest pressure to pull you flush against him. The kiss deepens, and your hands slip under his shirt, trailing across his warm skin, playing a sort of blind connect-the-dots with the freckles dotted haphazardly along his back.
Smiling against your lips, Anto takes the hint, breaking the kiss just long enough for you to remove his shirt, your hands roaming gently over the newly-exposed skin as your lips reconnect.
You barely stifle a gasp as his fingertips leave your cheek to trail along the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts to grasp the hem of your crop top.
He pulls away briefly, a question in his eyes that he doesn’t even need to ask out loud before you’re nodding, a breathy yes leaving your lips.
Your shirt joins his on your bedroom floor, and he takes a moment to take in your figure, eyes dragging over you appreciatively.
“You,” he says softly, sincerely, as he leans in to reconnect your lips once more, “are absolutely beautiful, darling.”
He slowly walks you backwards as the kiss deepens, tongues dancing. He gently lays you down when the backs of your knees hit the bed, keeping your lips connected as he moves to hover over you.
He pulls away, just enough to take in your features with what looks like awe shining in his eyes.
“Hi,” you say softly— as if speaking too loudly will ruin the magic of this moment you’ve waited so long for.
He grins.
“Hi.”
And then his lips are back on yours for a tender, heated kiss before making a slow path across your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck.
You let out a sound that’s something between a sigh and a whine, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your skin but the slow pace driving you positively mad.
He chuckles against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you gasp.
“Sweetheart, let me enjoy this— I didn’t get to appreciate it properly before,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll give you what you want, just be patient.”
You’ve barely nodded your consent before his mouth is on you once more, kissing and sucking and grazing his teeth all along your skin, the beard adding a layer of sensation that has goosebumps rippling up along your arms. Your hand finds its way up to grip his thick waves, throwing your head back to expose more skin for him to mark up, letting out a moan as his lips track over as much of you as he can reach.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so…” he murmurs, moving to nibble along your collarbone, then further south still to kiss along the tops of your breasts, “soft.”
You can only sigh his name as he mouths along your breasts, gently capturing your nipple as he swirls his tongue around you. You let out a soft cry, arching into him as he pulls away to repeat the gentle motion on your other breast, drawing out more soft sighs and gasps from you.
Your fingers rake through his hair as he pulls away to mouth down the valley between your breasts, marveling at the view before you. Sure, you’d done this plenty of times before, but it was never this… gentle, this intimate.
Anto looks up to meet your eyes as his lips continue their path down your body, the heat in them still present but softer, somehow. Like a warm hearth on a cold winter night compared to the blazing wildfire of lust you were used to.
“You’re so pretty,” you murmur as you push back a strand of hair from his forehead, so soft you’re not sure if you even mean for him to hear it.
He does, though, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses his way down your stomach.
“So are you, my love.”
The words send butterflies flurrying throughout your stomach, the feeling of which only intensifies as he presses gentle kisses along the skin just above the waistband of your shorts.
“Anto…” His name leaves your mouth in a pleading sigh, and he hums his acknowledgment as his fingers glide up to toy with your waistband. 
“Can I, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your skin, and you nod furiously, certain that if you hear one more sweet pet name come out of his mouth you’re going to die on the spot.
You lift your hips as he eases your shorts off of you, a groan leaving him at the sight of the lacy underwear covering your core.
“Never got to tell you this before the way I wanted to, but you are so,” he mumbles, brushing a quick kiss to your core over the increasingly damp fabric covering it, “so beautiful, honey.”
He slowly removes your underwear, adding them to the growing pile of clothes before brushing gentle kisses up your thighs.
Well, you were right.
The beard did feel utterly perfect on your thighs.
You sigh his name desperately, tugging gently at his hair. “Want your mouth on me, please, baby.”
His pretty brown eyes, pupils blown wide, meet yours as, with one final kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh, he lowers his mouth to you, licking deep into your folds.
You cry out his name, fumbling praises tumbling from your lips as he finds each and every spot to make you moan, his thumb moving up to gently circle your clit.
Your whines reach a fever pitch, and Anto murmurs sweetly against you as he recognizes the signs of you reaching the edge.
“C’mon, honey, please, wanna taste you. Lemme make my girl feel good, please cum for me sweetheart, please—”
Your world goes white, and when you come back to yourself, you feel Anto pressing gentle kisses to your thighs, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin.
You reach down to stroke through his hair as he meets your eyes with a smile.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
“I’m perfect,” you sigh.
“Good,” he murmurs, moving to hover over you once more, brushing gentle kisses all over your skin as he goes, “because I really, really need to be inside you.”
You just barely stifle a moan as you feel the telltale bulge brushing against your thigh.
With one final kiss to your lips, he shifts off of you to shed his pants and boxers, retrieving another familiar foil packet from his pocket.
“Came prepared,” he quips with a wink, making you giggle.
You sit up, gesturing for him to hand it to you.
He hesitates for a moment.
“Y/N, I don’t… I want this to be different than the other times, sweet girl. You don’t have to—”
You promptly silence him with a kiss, plucking the foil from his hand.
“I want to,” you assure him as you pull away, gently rolling the latex onto him, your fingers brushing against him in a way that has his eyes fluttering shut.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, moving to hover over you once more as you lay down, his nose brushing yours, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You merely pull him down into another kiss, smiling against his lips.
Anthony keeps his lips connected to yours, deepening the kiss as he slowly drags his length through your slick folds, your breath hitching as the tip of his cock snags against your entrance.
He pulls away briefly to scan your face.
“You ready, darling?”
“Yes,” you say softly, thumb stroking gently over his beard.
Soft brown eyes remain locked on yours as he slowly pushes into you, noses brushing, breaths mingling.
Anto pauses once he’s fully entered you, panting. “God, you feel… fucking perfect, sweetheart.”
You can only whine, murmuring vague praise in response.
After a moment, he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, beginning the gentle push and pull towards ecstasy.
Your breaths become heavier, Anto panting sweet praises with his breath hot against your cheek until his mouth crashes once more onto yours.
Your lips remain locked in a tender kiss as Anto continues his slow thrusts into you— he said he wanted it to be different than the other times and it is. 
There’s no lips mouthing roughly at your skin, no teeth scraping against your collarbone, no fast, sweaty thrusts designed to get you both off as fast as possible. This is… tender, this is intimate, this is everything you’d been wanting since you first realized you had feelings for him.
It’s… perfect.
“I love you, darling,” Anto sighs against your lips, every inch of his warm body pressed against yours, “I love you so, so much, Y/N.”
Your breath catches, overcome with emotion for a moment before you reply softly, earnestly, “I love you too, Anto. God, I’ve wanted to say that for so long, I love you, I love you, I love you…”
Your voice trails off as he captures your lips once more in a tender kiss, and…
Now. Now it was perfect.
“Anto…” you sigh into his mouth, a warning as you feel a familiar tension building within you.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he pants in a strangled voice, “Me too, ‘m almost there.”
His thrusts speed up the tiniest bit, your toes curling as he hits your G-spot repeatedly.
“Ant—” you gasp, your grip on him tightening as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, “oh, fuck, Anto, ‘m gonna—”
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he pants softly in your ear, “Wanna feel you come on my cock, angel, please, ‘m right behind you—”
You shatter as your second orgasm crashes over you, tucking your face into Anthony’s neck to muffle your cries. Several erratic thrusts later, he follows suit, spilling into the condom with a cry as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing tenderly against your skin.
He slumps against you, both of you attempting to catch your breath as he gently pulls out of you with a sweet kiss to your nose.
“Was that—” he asks softly, still gasping slightly for air, “Was that okay?”
You hum softly, eyes tracing over each one of his beautiful features.
“It was perfect, Anto. Absolutely perfect.”
“I’m glad, my love,” He grins, dipping to capture your lips in a tender kiss before standing and discreetly disposing of the condom in your en-suite.
You make grabby hands for him as he returns, and he gladly climbs back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.
He presses his lips to your temple, fingers tracing gentle patterns over your exposed skin.
“I meant what I said, you know. I really do—” His breath catches as you look up at him, eyes wide and soft. “I love you. So, so much Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
“I love you too, Anthony,” you murmur, a rare use of his full name slipping out, usually reserved for important moments, or when you’re mad at him. Right now, it’s the former. You want to say something else, but your eyes are growing heavier by the minute, so you settle for brushing your lips tenderly against his cheek as sleep overtakes you.
Just before you fully lose consciousness, you feel him press his lips firmly to your temple, smiling against your skin, and you can’t help but smile as you fall contently into sleep.
You spend the night sound asleep in Anthony’s arms, secure in the knowledge that he’ll still be there when you wake.
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eddiethefreakkmunson · 4 months
Note
I’ve been stewing ona request that isn’t a duplicate of your work or one I’ve asked for before and all I could come up with is:
Eddie accidentally ingests viagra or some sort of stimulant “sex chocolate” or something of that nature. And what kind of friend would we be if we didn’t help him out? Gotta take one for the team, right? 😏
I LOVE this idea, thank you so much for requesting it 💕
Prescription Predicament
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Eddie accidentally takes viagra, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help him out?
Word Count: 7.1K
Content Warnings: 18+ Only, Best friends to lovers, Smut, PIV (protected), Oral Sex (Both m and f receiving), Fingering - (Let me know if I missed anything my brain is fried rn)
Author's Note: I know asked for smutty requests over two months ago but my personal life has been exhausting lately and it's fucking with my creativity on every level, I appreciate your patience. Thank you to everyone that showed interest in this, it was the perfect little motivation boost I needed to get this finished and I hope it was worth the wait 🥰
Taglist is at the bottom but there is a few people that asked to be tagged in this that for some reason it just would not let me - So if you see this and weren't tagged I'm sorry I tried! ☹️
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“Eddie!” Your voice boomed as your fist repeatedly hammered on the door of your best friend’s trailer. “Eddie, come on, what the hell are you doing in there?”
After a few minutes of silence that had you genuinely concerned for his welfare, you finally heard the sound of clumsy footsteps followed by the thump of someone walking into a piece of furniture.
“Jeeesus Christ,” Eddie complained, he squinted harshly at the sudden blast of sunlight hitting his weary face as he swung open the door. “Do you have to be so loud?”
You snorted as you took in the sight of him in his blue chequered boxers and tattered band tee, the W.A.S.P logo faded and cracked from years of being washed. His sleepy eyes and wild nest of curls made him look like a bear that was fresh out of hibernation.
“What was taking you so long? I thought you’d died or something.”
“Yeah well I might croak soon, feels like my head is packed with dynamite and it’s about to blow,” you watched him pinch the bridge of his nose, his features screwing up in pain while he stepped aside to let you in. “What time is it anyway?”
“It’s almost eight, you know, like we planned?” You brushed past him and into the centre of his cosy living room, waving the VHS he asked you to pick up from Family Video. Setting the tape down on the coffee table, your features softened in concern as you turned your full attention to him. “Are you okay?”
Eddie blew out a frustrated breath, his mop of tangled curls bounced as he shook his head. He quickly stopped, wincing when the sudden movements caused a sharp flash of pain to shoot across his brow. 
“Do I look okay?” he grumbled. “Can’t see shit either, it’s like I stared into the sun for a really long time and now the spots are stuck there forever.”
“Sounds like a migraine,” you grimaced with sympathy. You’d suffered from plenty of them and wouldn’t wish them on anyone. “Have you thrown up yet?”
“No, does that happen?”
“Sometimes, have you taken anything for it?”
“No,” he gritted his teeth knowing you were about to chastise him for not doing anything to help himself.
You rolled your eyes, typical Eddie but you decided to not give him any grief, at least not until he felt better and he had no choice but to tell you that you were right, as usual. 
“Well… That would be a good start,” you ushered him in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll leave you in peace though, you should try and sleep it off.” 
“Wait,” he spun on his heel, catching your arm softly in his grip as you turned to leave the trailer. “Will you sit here with me? You can still put the movie on, I’ll just close my eyes for a little while.”
“Eddie, the sound won’t help,” you almost whispered. “You need to go lie in a dark, silent roo-”
“Please?” He cut you off, his hand sliding down your arm until he could intertwine your fingers with a gentle squeeze. 
Eddie loved his Saturday nights alone with you. He may have hung out with you every day at school, but you were always surrounded by friends. He found that there was something extra special about the time spent with just you and him. It was the reason he didn’t cancel his plans with you when he started feeling like shit, he just hoped he’d be feeling better by the time you arrived which turned out to be wishful thinking.
“Okay,” There was no use arguing with him, you couldn’t deny him anything while he was looking at you with such an adorable pout. “But go and take some Tylenol, now.” 
“Yes ma'am,” even in his bleak state Eddie still gave you a dorky salute before turning round and trudging down the hall to his bedroom. 
Eddie felt around his nightstand three-quarters of the way blind, his lids drooped low to avoid the sunlight pouring in through his bedroom window. Various belongings thump as they hit the carpeted floor, knocked off of the littered surface by his haphazard search efforts. He couldn’t be bothered to check if he’d broken anything of importance, too determined to locate the bottle of Tylenol he knew was hidden somewhere.
“Where the fuck is it?” he groaned. His frustrated expression morphed into a smirk when his fingertips grazed the plastic bottle. “Gotcha.” 
Eddie’s smirk faded just as quickly as it had formed when he found it empty. He shook the bottle for good measure as though he could magically refill it with the pain relief he so desperately needed.
“Son of a bitch!” Eddie chucked the bottle over his shoulder and began feeling his way to the bathroom. 
He shuffled cautiously until he found himself at the medicine cabinet. Wayne had to have something right? The old man was constantly complaining about his bad back and shoddy knee. 
Eddie retracted his lids a sliver to browse the various medications, the amassing fuzz obscured his vision making it impossible to read the tiny print on the label. He reached for what looked like a generical pill box on the highest shelf, figuring that they were prescription strength pain meds and therefore exactly what he was looking for. How convenient for Wayne to have a brand new box. He thumbed two pills from their foil-sealed packaging and tossed them into his mouth. They sat bitterly on his tongue as he leaned down and angled his head beneath the running faucet to help wash them down. Now that he’d finally fulfilled your wishes, Eddie didn’t bother putting the box away. When he returned to the living room you’d already gotten comfy in your usual spot, the opening credits of the movie were rolling on the screen at the lowest possible volume. He smiled fondly when you patted the cushion on your lap that was awaiting him. Making his way over to you he plopped down and wiggled around until he was comfortable; despite his feet hanging awkwardly over the arm of the couch.
Eddie sighed and his lashes fluttered closed. Instead of dwelling on the throbbing in his forehead, he focused on the sensation of you lightly tracing the contours of his face. Your fingertips were chilled from your walk across town, the coolness making it all the more soothing for him. Your heart melted as his tightly sewn brow unwound and his features were no longer warped by the pressure threatening to split his skull.
Your touch effectively fought off the previously unyielding tension, rendering him still and at ease. Your fingers found their way into his hair which came without a second thought. Sometimes you’d scratch his scalp to help him fall asleep and Eddie often finds himself craving your phenomenal head massages. Your attention was focused on the TV screen playing the mediocre slasher film while he practically purred in your lap. Your fingernails continued to graze his scalp until the pain reliever kicked in and his moans of discomfort had subsided. Eddie was so relaxed that he almost succumbed to the pull of sleep that was weighing heavily, that was until he felt an all too familiar awakening below the belt. It came as no surprise to him, you were touching him. He’d hidden innumerable semis due to your presence but something about this one felt different.
Eddie cracked one eye open to peek down at his crotch and he immediately kicked himself for not putting pants on once you had arrived. He was not sporting his usual semi, hell, he was pitching a full tent like it was summer camp. Praying that you were too invested in the crappy movie to notice, Eddie reached for the spare cushion wedged beside his hip and inconspicuously clutched it to his front. He tried his best to make it appear that he just wanted something to hug.
Of course you had noticed his very prominent erection, it was impossible not to. A thrill shot to your core with the thought of your touch being the cause of his arousal. You didn’t know how to react despite how giddy you felt about his body being so responsive to your touch. 
Throughout your friendship people had always assumed you were an item. On the contrary, you had shared one drunken kiss at most and both of you were too chicken shit to bring it up again after that night. But truthfully, you wished for him to want you in the way that he’d kiss you when he was sober. The fact that he’d popped a boner while you were spoiling him suggested that the feelings were mutual. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself, so you kept your gaze glued across the room and acted oblivious.
Eddie couldn’t conjure up a reasonable explanation as to why he was so bricked up. He’d never been so hard in his life and it had grown to be uncomfortable, his cock begging for any ounce of friction he could slyly get away with. There’s no way he could excuse himself to the bathroom without you spotting the obvious when he stood up. He certainly couldn’t take the cushion to the bathroom with him to use as a shield. The instinctual need became unbearable, he was going to lose his mind if he tried to sit still for a second longer.
With the utmost subtlety, Eddie used his grip on the cushion to push down while simultaneously wiggling his hips. His jaw clenched as he choked back the gasp that sat on the tip of his tongue. The faintly strangled sound drew your attention away from the screen. Eddie’s eyes were screwed shut, but this time it was out of frustration rather than pain. His nostrils flared and his breathing deepened. On the cusp of asking what was the matter, the words dried in your throat as your gaze landed on his lower half. Your heart pounded in your chest at the realisation of why he made that sound, and why he had started moving after being still for so long.
You wondered if the thermostat had gone haywire because the air felt stifling. The short thrusts of his hips against the orange cushion made you wish you had one of your own to use. You weren’t sure what his endgame was, but the room felt too suffocating to wait and find out. You needed some air and fast, or at least a moment away from him to try and compose yourself.
“I uh- I gotta use the bathroom,” you stuttered and stood hastily. His head bounced against the couch, having lost the support of your lap and you disappeared before he had the chance to even process what you said.
Shit. Eddie seized the desperate rutting of his hips as he was dragged back to Earth by your sudden departure. He got carried away, what the fuck was wrong with him tonight? He lifted the cushion and glared down at his now painfully hard cock straining against his boxer shorts. A dark blue patch of precum blotted the spot he’d been rubbing. He had no reason to be in this state, only an hour ago he felt like he was dying so what had turned him into such a pathetic pervert in such a short time? He was starting to panic as he wondered what you were thinking. How obvious had his inability to control himself been to you?
You slammed the bathroom door closed behind you. Standing in front of the mirror, you stared at your reflection and took several deep breaths. Get a hold of yourself, you thought as your fingers curled around the cool porcelain edges of the sink. It wasn’t until after you splashed your face with cold water that you noticed the box of pills lying beside you on the counter. Once they had caught your attention, you were stunned to read what they really were.
 You cracked the door open slightly and called out to him. “Eds?”
For a moment, you worried he’d fled due to the beat of silence that passed before he answered.
“Yeah?”
“Come here a sec.”
“Do I have to?” He sighed, not wanting to get up while he still hadn’t managed to get rid of his big problem.
“Yes,” You rolled your eyes and waited for him to stroll down the hall.
Eddie strategically hid his body behind the door frame and popped his head into view. There was an expectant look on his face, waiting for the reason he was beckoned. His eyes followed your finger as you pointed to the pills on the counter.
“Did you take those?”
“Yeah?” Eddie replied feeling unsure of himself, the fact that you were questioning it made him nervous that he had inadvertently poisoned himself.
“Do you know what they are?”
“Uhh, pain meds?” 
“Noooo,” your lips curled into a smirk. “You took Viagra.”
“Viagra?” he roared. Temporarily unphased by his predicament, he stepped into the bathroom and picked up the box, the fuzz no longer afflicting his vision. “What the fuck?”
“Why did you think they were pain meds?” you fought the urge to giggle.
“You told me to go take something knowing full well I couldn’t see!”
“You’re blaming me for this?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m blaming you!” His voice got higher the louder he became. “Why do we even have this?” 
Eddie froze when it dawned on him that the only reason they would be in the cabinet is because they belong to Wayne. 
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, dropping the box at his feet. He buried his face in his palms and threw his head back. “Ughhhh! Why me?” 
You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the first chuckle escaped your lips while you took in the pitiful sight of him.
“It’s not funny!” he yelled, feeling agitated and more than a little humiliated. “It hurts!”
“It’s a little funny,” You teased.
“Shut up! Seriously, what am I gonna do?” 
“Nothing,” you told him calmly, swiping up the box from the floor to read the instructions on the back. “It says here it should go away on its own in about three hours.”
“Three hours?!” He whined.
“Three to four hours.”
“Why the fuck does it last that long?”
“Oh, quit being dramatic. You’ve already made it through the first one,” you said, placing the pills back in the medicine cabinet. “Come and watch the rest of the movie with me, it might help take your mind off it.”
Eddie dragged his feet as you took his hand and led his pouting face back to the living room. He returned to his spot beside you. but instead of laying in your lap, he chose to sit upright. With the cushion pulled back to its previous position over his groin, he tried his best to focus on the mostly forgotten movie. His expression reminded you of an overgrown child that was seconds away from a tantrum because they didn’t get their way. You snickered at the absurdity of the situation you had found yourselves in and folded your legs beneath you to make yourself comfortable at the opposite end of the couch.
Over the course of the next half hour you watched Eddie fidget in your peripheral vision as he huffed and sighed in aggravation. You hated to admit it, but his squirming was turning you on more than it ought to. It was the way he was incapable of regulating his bated breathing, how his toes curled into the rough carpet and the subtle shift of his hips when he involuntarily thrusted into the cushion laid across his lap. It overwhelmed you to the point that you were squeezing your thighs together to suppress the throbbing that was blooming between them. When a whimper escaped from his lips, it was game over for you.
Would it be completely inappropriate to offer him a hand? You were doubtful that he would turn down such an offer in his current state. But what would that mean for your relationship? Best friend's don't give each other rub and tugs. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn't want to just do him a favour. You didn't want to have to hold back, and you wanted to do it more than just this once. Deciding that it was worth the risk, you uncurled from your position and slid down onto the carpet. While Eddie's eyes remained closed and his head rested against the back of the couch, you crawled the short distance to sit on your knees between his widely spread legs. He wasn't phased by the movement until you pried the cushion from his grip and tossed it aside. Eddie's head snapped forward and he looked down at you like a deer in headlights.
“Huuuuuh- what…. what is happening?” He stuttered, softly taking hold of your wrists when your hands found purchase on his bare thighs.
“Don’t you think it’s about time we did something about this?” You asked, looking pointedly at his cock.
“Like what?” He croaked.
His grip remained firm but he did nothing to stop you when your fingers creeped higher up his legs. Your fingertips now danced along the waistband of his boxers. 
“I think you know what.”
“Errrm, yeah but it’s kinda hard to believe this is happening,” he chuckled breathily. “Oh God, my head really exploded didn’t it? I died and this is heaven.”
“Well, I am on my knees aren’t I? And I wanna worship you, is that your idea of heaven?” 
“Hoooly fucking shit yes,” he whimpered. “But-”
“You know it won’t go away with just your fist or that cushion. I can help, if you want.”
Eddie nodded eagerly at almost comical speed. Unwilling to waste another second you tugged down his boxers, he lifted his hips just enough for you to drag them below his ass and free his swollen cock. He exhaled in relief as the cool air tickled his searing skin. You took a moment to truly admire him, your mouth watering as your gaze fixated on the girth of him, his weeping tip flushed dark pink with a prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft. He was fucking beautiful and your pussy clenched around nothing at the mere thought of him stuffed inside of you. Wrapping your fist securely around the stiff and hot base, you ran your tongue up to his tip. You placed a single peck to the head before you took him fully into your mouth. 
Wet warmth engulfed his cock while your fist pumped what you couldn’t handle. He whined above you, his fingers threaded into his hair and tugged harshly to keep himself from grabbing the back of your head. The last thing he wanted was to be forceful, but nevertheless, his hips had a mind of their own. You breathed deeply through your nose, attempting to suppress your gag reflex when he fucked your mouth harder. You didn’t mind, you found it impossibly enthralling that he was so worked up he could hardly control his movements. Your pussy grew wetter as his moans got louder, and you couldn’t help but snake the hand that wasn’t jerking him off down the front of your jeans and beneath your underwear. Your fingers rubbed tight, quick circles to your swollen clit. 
“Oh my god… Baby that’s… Ohhhh,” Eddie mumbled between broken moans. “No idea how many times I thought about this… Your lips - Mmmmm, thank you… Thank you…”
He barely lasted a few minutes before he was reaching out to cup your cheek, urgently attempting to guide you away as a warning he was about to climax. He expected you to pull away but you only moaned around him in response, the vibrations travelled along his shaft tipping him over the edge. His balls drew up tighter than they ever had before. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he shot rope after rope of cum down the back of your throat.
Even after coming down from what was without a doubt the most drawn out and intense orgasm of his life, his cock is still rock hard. Throbbing and twitching in your palm, he’s ready to go again despite the fact that he shouldn’t be.
“What the actual fuck?” He growled breathlessly, the bewilderment evident in his voice.
You wanted to offer to keep going, but with Eddie being particularly well endowed, your jaw was already aching. With your own arousal yet to be relieved, you decided to boldly take what may have the only chance you would get.
“Do you have condoms?”
His eyes met yours with scepticism, as though he really didn’t think he could get any luckier than he already had. You squeezed his knee to remind him he had yet to answer you and Eddie nodded apprehensively, maybe you really did want him as badly as he wanted you. 
“What do you say we move this into the bedroom then, hmm?”
“Fuck… Are you sure?” 
In place of a verbal response, you rose to your feet with a shy smile. You swallowed down any self-consciousness that was threatening to get in the way. With him still sitting on the couch and his cock exposed, you eyed him while you stripped down to your underwear. Eddie’s restless fingers clawed at the skin of his thighs, his head started to feel woozy as your body was revealed to him one garment at a time. Once your bra was unhooked and your underwear had dropped to the floor Eddie held his breath involuntarily. His big brown eyes travelled along your naked figure, feeling indecisive on which part of you he wanted to explore first. 
He was mute with a strong gaze and it caused your confidence to waiver. Before you could let it crumble completely you held out your hand to him, your fingers wiggling in encouragement to take it. As he let the breath he had held captive free, Eddie tucked himself back into his boxers. His legs quaked as he stood and closed the short distance between you, his fingers reaching out to tangle with yours.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” he said under his breath. “You’ve done more than enough for me already.”
Eddie would much rather be miserable on his own than to cause you a shred of discomfort in trying to help him. 
“Trust me,” you assured him, guiding his hand down between your legs so he could feel how sincerely soaked you were for him. “I really fucking want to.”
A squeak barely escaped you when his lips unexpectedly captured yours. Instinctively, your hands caressed the side of his face to keep him from pulling away. Eddie's hand explored your slick covered folds and in a matter of seconds, his fingers were coated with your arousal. You moaned into his mouth as he circled your clit, rubbing firmly against the nerve. Your hands travelled down his neck and you were unhappy to find him still mostly clothed. You frustratedly broke the kiss in order to yank his shirt up over his head. Eddie followed your lead and pushed his boxers back over his hips until they fell to pool around his ankles. Stepping out of them one foot at a time Eddie began to walk you backward down the hall toward his bedroom. All the while, his desperate hands sought to feel every inch of your body and his lips glided down the column of your throat. You gripped his slim waist to avoid tripping over the various obstacles he'd thrown to the floor while you made your way to his bed.
Once the backs of your knees met the edge of his mattress, Eddie urged you to lay back. You did as he asked and inched back while he watched. Eddie crawled between your legs and gently groped at your naked chest, his lips not far behind to suck harshly on the crook where your neck meets your shoulder. To give him more access, you tilted your head to the side and nuzzled your face into the pillow. His scent fills your nose and it sets your senses aflame, squirming as he continued to suckle on your pulse point. Before you had the chance to reach down a grasp hold of his cock, he travelled south. His mouth left a hot, wet trail as he made his way down to your core. Eddie’s strong hands forced your thighs apart to settle himself between them. His eyes locked shamelessly on your heat as he looked forward to spoiling you with the same treatment you gave him. You were conflicted in that moment because while you were on the verge of losing your mind if you didn’t feel him inside you soon, you also appreciated his eagerness to get a taste of you. 
Eddie covers your inner thighs with the softest kisses, using one hand to hold you in place by your hip. You felt the knuckles of his opposite hand glide through your wetness. Your body reacted immediately, your hips rocking in time with his thumb swiping firmly against your clit. Your body melted beneath him while his tongue smoothed over the sensitive nub. 
Eddie's experimental licks grew more confident as he grew acquainted and subsequently fell in love with the way you taste.
Your legs dropped open further when he moaned into you, the vibrations reverberating through your core. You lifted your head to watch him savour you. There was a little pinch between his brows and his eyes were squeezed shut, which only fanned the flames of your burning desire for him. You lifted your hips to encourage him to venture further. Understanding what you needed, he slid two fingers inside you with very little resistance and hooked them upwards. It only took a handful of explorative strokes before he was brushing the spot that he knew would bring you to euphoric bliss. 
“Yes… oh fuck, right there,” your hands threaded into his hair while his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Oh my god… Eddie…”
“Mmmm, you taste so fucking good,” he pulled away for only a moment to respond. 
Eddie’s brown eyes, darkened by lust, stared up at you while his plump lips glistened with your arousal. Without hesitation, his tongue returned to your clit and he sucked greedily, his plunging fingers following suit. You ground your hips against his mouth, and with little warning, you came hard.
“Eddie!” You cried, your pussy clamping down around his fingers as your thighs snapped closed to hold him in place. “Oh my fucking god! Ohhhh-”
He happily worked you through your orgasm until your body was limp beneath him. Eddie retracted his fingers and dragged them up through your folds. You twitched as he spread your release over your sensitive clit. He grinned softly when he looked up at you again, the pride evident on his features as he crawled his way up your body.
“Holy shit,” Eddie laughed breathlessly. He pressed a wet kiss to your lips for you to taste how sweet you were. “That was so fucking hot. I’ve never made someone cum that hard before.”
You grinned back. Still at a loss for words, you reached between your bodies to give him a few steady strokes. He pulsed in your palm and it sent a surge through your lower belly. You hastily flipped him over, his back meeting the mattress with a bounce. Eddie was spread before you, and you committed the sight to your memory to cherish until your dying days. He tucked his hands behind his head, the fucked out expression still melted onto his features. Eddie had never looked so beautiful. Your eyes wandered his slender torso and followed the delicious happy trail that led to the thatch of dark curls framing his gorgeous dick.
Spying the small blue box of condoms on the dresser, you grabbed them while Eddie shuffled himself up the mattress to get more comfortable in a sitting position. You straddled his hips and he leaned forward to kiss you hungrily. He took the little foil wrapper from your hand, tore it open, and rolled the condom down his aching cock. He gave himself a few strokes for good measure and you watched him adoringly.
“Ready for more sweetheart?” he asked with an air of smugness. He could see how you were practically drooling. The way your eyes fixated on the motion of his hand gave him one hell of an ego boost.
You nodded embarrassingly quickly and he chuckled. Eddie’s free hand gripped your hip to pull you closer as he guided his tip to your entrance. Your fingertips dug into his shoulders as you steadied yourself, and ever so slowly sank down on his generous length. You shuddered as he stretched you inch by glorious inch. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so full and it was the best goddamn thing you’d ever felt. He gave you a moment to adjust before both of his hands found purchase on your ass. Eddie started to fuck himself up into your pleading pussy, causing the bedframe to shake from the force of his thrusts. You braced yourself with one arm on the wall behind his head to keep yourself upright.
Eddie had one hell of a view, and it had him entranced. Your jaw was slack as you gasped and panted from how deep he was, and your tits bounced in his face while he relentlessly pounded into you. His hooded eyes never stopped roaming your body. He wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you flush to his chest. Eddie buried his face into the crook of your neck to resume his attack on the tender flesh of your throat.
Mingling moans and whimpers were paired with the wet sounds of him driving into your cunt filled the small space of his bedroom. You tugged his hair to pull his face from your neck, needing to feel his lips on yours as you ground desperately in his lap. He met you for a sloppy kiss, both of you too far gone to care about the clumsiness.
“Close, close- baby I’m so close,” you whined against his lips. The white hot pressure in your core grew closer to reaching its boiling point with every brush of his wiry curls against your clit.
“Yeah, you gonna cum for me?” he growled. His sweaty forehead pressed to your own while his borderline black irises looked deep into your soul. “Fuck, I wanna feel you cumming all over my cock.”
“Uh huh, Eddie I’m gonna cum,” you nodded dumbly. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly that you could hardly focus on a word he was saying. 
His hand left your waist to snake down. His thumb rubbed circles to your clit, which in his urgency, may have been a little rough. But it didn’t matter, it was more than enough to get you there. 
“Oh fuck!” You cried as you came. Your hips continued to roll, a clumsy attempt at keeping up with his thrusts. 
You rode out the waves of ecstasy until you collapsed against his chest. Both of his arms wrapped protectively around you and his nose nuzzled against your temple. Eddie whispered how good you were for him. It took you a few minutes for your cloudy head to clear to notice that his hips were still rocking into you. You had forgotten that the whole point of this was to get Eddie off and not yourself. Despite how sensitive you were feeling, you pushed through the mild discomfort. He surely couldn’t be too far behind you. 
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and with each minute that passed, Eddie grew more frustrated. The pills were affecting his ability to cum in a timely manner. Even though he had a blowjob beforehand, it had never taken him this long to blow his load before. Your movements grew sluggish and when a tiny whimper passed your lips, he knew it was becoming too much. Eddie's heart squeezed behind his ribs at the thought that he was causing you pain. The guilt pulled him further out of the moment, and he was prepared to surrender. 
“I’m sorry,” he practically sobbed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I swear any other time I would’ve busted ages ago.”
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You ignored the ache in your thighs that was begging you to change positions, you were determined to get him there. 
“No it’s not,” he shook his head. The stray curls plastered themselves to his damp skin. “We don’t have to keep going, I don’t wanna hurt you-”
“Hey, I’m fine,” you stopped him. He had gripped the meat of your hips to lift you off of him but you halted him with the placement of your hands on top of his. “Really.”
Eddie sighed deeply and averted his gaze, clearly unconvinced. You curled your fingers gently around his and lifted his hands to your chest, placing one on each of your breasts. You made him squeeze them as a form of encouragement. You rested your own hands on either side of his head and forced him to look at you. 
“Stop worrying about how long it’s taking and focus on what you’re feeling,” your thumbs tenderly brushed the apples of his cheekbones. “How am I making you feel?”
You emphasised your words with a roll of your hips, your dedication to helping him get there gave you a boost of energy to persevere.
“So fucking good,” Eddie shivered. His eyes fluttered closed as he zeroed in on the way your muscles quivered around his cock and how soft your skin felt cupped in his palms.
“What is it that feels good?”
He could barely think, barely speak. It felt like his brain was melting to mush with every second he stayed inside you.
“Eddie,” you pressed, gently demanding his answer.
“Feels… fuck, your pussy,” he babbled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I don’t… you’re just so… warm, soft.”
“Mmmm, you like my pussy?”
“Oh, f-fuck, yeah.”
“Yeah? Then take it Eds, I’m all yours,” you promised.
“You mean that?” his hands tickled your ribs as they glided from your breasts to your ass, his palms squeezing what now belonged to him. “Even… after tonight?”
“Is that what you want?” 
His lovestruck gaze never broke your own as he nodded sincerely, your foreheads still stuck together.
“Then you can have me anytime you want, baby.”
Eddie groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he let the words he had dreamt about hearing for so long finally sink in. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and let every one of his senses be entirely consumed by you. Eddie was concentrating so hard on driving himself into your warm, wet heat that he didn’t notice his orgasm sneaking up until it was too late. Before he could get a word out he was already pulsing inside you, grunting into your neck with a deep growl. When Eddie finally slipped out of you, your fingers lightly soothed any part of him you could reach while he recovered. His entire body trembled from the force of his release. The problem however still remained. Despite your best efforts, the full condom glistened around his everlasting hard on. 
“Fuck!” Eddie yelled.
You stared at him hopelessly. You hated that it was causing him so much distress, but you knew neither of you had the stamina to go another round. At least, not without a break first. 
“I’m just gonna… Try to take care of it-” he muttered, pulling off the condom and tying the top with a tight knot as you moved out of his lap. He swung his unsteady legs over the edge of the bed and tossed it in the nearby trash can. “In the bathroom… I’ll be back.”
You'd already gone out of your way to help him and at this rate he considers himself a nuisance; he has to solve this issue on his own. You reached out and grasped his wrist before he could get too far.
“You don’t have to go,” you said. You gnawed in your lower lip, worried he may reject you in favour of his own hand. “I wanna help.”
Eddie felt like an idiot for being blinded by frustration and almost leaving the girl of his dreams naked and alone in his bed.
Eddie, beckoned by your pleading expression, returned to your side. The springs squeaked beneath his weight as he rejoined you. When he laid back against the pillow and you giggled; a subconscious attempt at easing the hopeless atmosphere. Once he was comfortable beside you, you tenderly wrapped your fingers around his shaft. You'd only stroked him a handful of times before you were startled by his outburst.
“Ow, ow! Fuck, stop!” he wailed at the lingering pain in his balls. “I can’t go again, it hurts too bad.”
“Sorry!” You placed your hand on his thigh and gave it a firm squeeze, unsure how else to comfort him. 
Eddie didn't speak another word, his train of thought overpowered by self-pity. You slid off of the bed and retrieved your clothes from the living room. Dressing yourself there, you pulled on your t-shirt and panties leaving your jeans in a heap where you’d dropped them. After returning to his room, you crawled back into bed and encouraged him to settle between your open legs. He obliged and scooted until his bare back was against your chest. Too sore and too exhausted to care about being naked, his eyes fluttered closed. You pressed your cheek to the crown of his head and drew soothing patterns across his flushed, pale skin. His reflection in the mirror across the room was saddening; he looked like he wanted to cry.
“I’m gonna be stuck like this forever.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” you chuckled. You turned your head to look at his alarm clock. “You’ve still got an hour left, I’m sure it will go away in no time.”
“What if it doesn’t?” he lamented.
“Then I guess I’ll drive you to the emergency room.” 
The look on Eddie’s face as it snapped towards you could only be described as one of pure horror but if it came down to it, you really would have to. You cupped his cheek in your palm and told him once again to stop worrying. Leaning forward you pecked a kiss to the tip of his nose. When that failed to banish the worry lines that still marred his face you placed another to his forehead. Then to the corner of his mouth and each of his cheeks. Still unsatisfied you lifted his hand and brought each of his fingers to your lips. Eventually he caved, the sweetest of smiles creeping across his features. 
“Thank you,” he whispered before settling back into your embrace.
Against all odds you managed to relax him enough to drift into a light sleep. By the time he stirred a little over half an hour later his erection had finally subsided. Eddie had never been so happy to go soft in his entire life.
The following morning, Wayne was lounging in his armchair ready to enjoy his day off. He kicked his feet up to watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, bologna sandwich in hand, when Eddie stalked into the living room and planted himself heavily on the couch next to him.
“Can I help you?” Wayne asked after a moment of silence and Eddie staring at him intently.
“Drugs Wayne? Really?” he scolded, sounding like a disappointed parent interrogating their teenager. 
“What in the hell are you talking about, boy?” Wayne scoffed before he took a hefty bite of his sandwich. 
Without answering, Eddie whipped the box of Viagra out of his back pocket and slapped them down on the coffee table between them. It took Wayne a second to realise what they were, but once he did, he almost choked on his food. He whacked his chest with his fist and reached for the glass of water beside him. 
“Have you been in my medicine cabinet?” 
“You mean our medicine cabinet,” Eddie retorted. 
Wayne was speechless. He didn’t know whether to laugh at Eddie’s seriousness or scold him for his attitude.
“You really wanna lecture me about drugs? You think I don’t know what you keep in my old lunchbox?” Wayne countered. 
“That’s not the issue here,” Eddie dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “The issue is-”
“Now just wait a second,” Wayne interrupted as he inspected the sheet of pills, taking note of the empty pockets. “Did you take these?”
“That’s irrelevant. Why would you have these under our roof? This is a christian household Wayne. I expected better from a man of God.”
It wasn’t often that Wayne’s face gave away what he was thinking, but at that moment, he was finding it extremely hard not to crack a smile at how ridiculous Eddie was being. In all honesty, he forgot that the viagra was even there. They were a gag gift from his drinking buddies down at The Attic on his 50th birthday. While he hadn’t used them yet, Wayne was nothing if not a resourceful man. He put them on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the event that they may prove useful in the future.
“Kev gave them to me on my 50th,” Wayne explained once he had composed himself. “You know, as a joke.”
“But you kept them,” Eddie stated as he stood and towered over his uncle who’s eyes still twinkled with amusement.
Wayne didn’t respond, he only crossed his arms over his chest and watched Eddie start to back away towards the bedroom. He knew now was not the right time to pry but he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened that caused Eddie to ambush him like this. 
“Very disappointed…” Eddie continued muttering his disapproval as he disappeared down the hall. “Make better decisions… Oh, and we’re out of Tylenol by the way.”
Tag list: @boomhauer @munson-magic @somemydayy @hellfirenacht @paleidiot @amira0303 @ali-r3n @josephquinnsfreckles @snazzyalpacaking @bohemianrhapsody86 @kurtsroo @vix-xen @shiknglo @melaninjhs @bl00d-puppy @millercontracting @nicassie @eddies-puppet @domaniquessidehoe2 @bl1ssfulbaby @eddies-hid3out @fictionaldaze @tomtomslongdong @eddiernunson @the-unforgivenn @feyremunson @monstxrteeth @take-everything-you-can @raccoonboywrites @strangerfreaks @cherrywineisawaltz @upsidedownbunnyy @caffeinatedbtch @songbirdofthenight @fanficfantik @tigolebittiez (Sorry if I missed anyone!)
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winterzsurprise · 10 months
Text
A New Beginning || Miguel O'hara
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Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader
Summary: You tell Miguel that you're ready to have a child with him.
Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, breeding kink, unprotected sex, big dick Miguel, creampie, vaginal fingering, brief blowjob scene, soft sex that turned rough later on, Miguel kinda whimpered lol.
Period is gone and came the asexual lil shit who can't write smut anymore lmaooo. I have two other plots just waiting to be finished (something about being paralyzed by his venom and needy sex after a death scare) but aaaaaaaaaaa. This is so shit, I apologize lmao.
mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi cielo- my sky (correct me on this please)
“I think I’m ready.”
Miguel didn’t respond for the longest time, focused on frying the vegetables. Clearing your throat you tried again.
“Miguel? I think I’m ready.”
“For what exactly? What trouble are you brewing up again?”
Sensing his dedication towards completing his task, you grew doubtful of your decision of dropping the news to him. 
Miguel, always tuned in to your moods even without seeing you, immediately turned off the stove and turned to face you with crossed arms at your prolonged silence.
“Alright, what is it?”
Now seeing the permanent frown in his face, you wondered if he’s even as ready as you are. Being the leader of the inter-dimensional spider society and a chronic over-worker, you could see him putting his job first as the protector of spider people since he sometimes does it with you.
But you’ve seen how his eyes lingered a little too long on Mayday and Peter B whenever they visited. You’ve seen him replay clips of a future that doesn’t belong to him and watched him mourn over a child that never existed in this universe.
Having a kid with both of your features…
It doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.
“I’m just… thinking about kids you know?”
The twitch in his eyebrow betrayed his uninterested expression. “Oh? What about them?”
“I think I’m ready for one.”
Tensed silence immediately filled the room, locking your throat close as you waited for a change in his stance with bated breath. You saw the surprise flash in his eyes but he made no move to indicate his interest in the subject. 
If it wasn’t for Mayday, you wouldn’t have thought about bringing a child into a world where she'd have parents from two separate dimensions, both superhuman and known as saviors of the world. Not to mention, while being an active crime fighter in your own universes which is not an ideal occupation for a pregnant woman.
Even then, you had your IUD removed a few days ago when you returned to your world for a visit and only today did you guys had the time to bond.
As you linger in the silence, regret starts to crawl up your throat. Maybe it's a stupid decision after all...
His sigh sliced through the thick atmosphere before his voice did. “Are you sure?”
Miguel, no matter how unsure his voice sounded, had a hungry look in his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about it for so long and... I think I’m ready now.”
You swear you could hear the clock from the living room tick beside you as you wait in anticipation. 
tik!
tok!
tik!
tok!
tik!
Miguel reached behind to remove his apron, crumpling them like a paper ball and tossing them to the side before crossing the distance between the two of you with one large step, hands surging to cup your cheeks to pull you in for a deep kiss.
You melted in the soft plushies of his lips, hands rising to tangle themselves into his hair. 
His hands wandered down to your rear, tapping it rapidly and you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist before proceeding to walk blindly to the bedroom, relying solely on muscle memory.
Miguel’s lips melded with yours smoothly with years of experience, his taste familiar in your tongue. Your fingers combed through his hair, tugging him closer as the door opened behind you.
It didn't take long before you hit the softness of your bed. His body dwarfs yours in every way and the realization never fails to send jolts of pleasure down your spine.
There's greed and desperation in Miguel's hands as he tore through your shirt and bra, freeing your breasts that pebbled with goosebumps from the cold air. Despite the hunger and rush in his movements, his touch is the softest it has been in a long, long time since the needy sex from months ago after a death scare.
His fingers found your stiff nubs and pinched them, sending sparks crawling over your body, stirring your nerve endings awake. Miguel's lips parts from yours to pepper kisses down your skin, leaving warmth in its wake.
You quickly made work of his top, pushing it over his head before he latched onto your skin once more like a bloodsucker.
"You're so pretty, mi cielo." He groaned, kneading your mounds together. "I lose my mind just thinking about your tits growing full with milk for our kid." 
You couldn't suppress the shudder racking your body at the mention of having your own child, together. A low moan left your lips and Miguel's hand wandered lower to tug on the bands of your shorts and underwear.
"You don't mind this one, yeah?"
"Rip it off."
He didn't need to hear it twice, the sound of fabrics tearing off into two echoed in the room and plant both your legs on either side of him, leaving you bare for him to see. Sitting back on his heels, he admired his work as he caressed your inner thighs with small circles, a promise of what to come.
"As much as I want to eat you up, I want to see you falling apart my dick more."
You nod feverishly, sighing as deft fingers found your clit to roll in tight circles, occasionally scooping down to spread your wetness around your folds. Heat explodes from your abdomen, spreading across your body as pleasure slowly ricochets inside you.
His finger enters you, curling up to caress the spongy part of your walls and you moan. Miguel spared no time adding another digit inside you, picking up a fast pace and your body arched, hips twisting to follow his ministrations.
But before the pressure in your abdomen builds up, he pulls away to your distaste.
"Fuck…" You whined.
"Stop whining and get on top of me. I wanna see you bounce."
He slipped off of his pants and boxers, tossing it to the side before switching positions with you. You reached down to his hardened length, pumping him leisurely while he ran his calloused hands up and down the meat of your thighs.
You eyed the clear pre-cum erupting from his tip with every pump with fascination. Miguel's hands tensed on your thighs as a warning yet you bent down to lick off it off. A salty taste explodes in your mouth and Miguel grunts, nails digging into your flesh.
"Mi vida..."
"You're such a mood killer." You said, earning yourself a pinch in your thigh and you giggled.
You positioned his intimidatingly huge dick directly under you and with a deep breath, you let the tip sink into you. It's barely in and you're struggling with his girth stretching you wide open. Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel rubbed circles on your hips.
"You can do it, baby. You know you can take me in."
With the slight pushing from Miguel, you eased him in with a mewl. He feels deeper and fuller this way and you gasped at him, nudging more of him inside.
"Fuck..! You're so deep..! I c-can't—"
"You can and you will. I'll make sure you do."
"P-please... Ah!"
Surrendering your control to him momentarily, he gladly took up the mantle. Your mind grew fuzzy at how full he makes you feel and it pleased Miguel to no end to see you drunk on his cock. Reaching up to your neck, he pulls you down for a dizzying kiss.
You whimpered into his mouth as he gained some speed, nudging the roof of your uterus, keeping your mouth hang ajar, spouting gibberish and noises of absolute ecstasy. His hands roamed your body with the greed of an explorer in a new land yet tender as if handling a feather whilst you tugged hard on his locks.
"You feel so tight around me. God, you feel heavenly." He grunts as he drives himself in your heat.
Your body grew feverish as your heart grew fuller from the softness of his touches and kisses. The knots in your abdomen twisted tighter, your impending climax arriving a little early.
"I-I'm close…"
"Give it to me, come all over my dick. I want it all."
Picking up speed, you cried onto his shoulders as he plummets into you hard. Your hips grew erratic as you followed the intensity of his thrusts, his hands grabbing the globes of your ass to guide your heat onto his. 
"Come for me, cariño."
Your whimpered whispers of his name filled the room as you tip closer to the edge.
The knots in your abdomen unfurl and you come, trembling on top of him with a shout. He grunts as the tightness brought by your end, hugged his girth firmly. His hot pants fanned your ears as your climax encouraged him closer, the sound of his pleasure sent sparks throughout your body and swells your chest with pride.
"Take all of me, baby. You want it yeah? Want me to fill you up real bad? Want me to breed and knock you up?"
"Yes yes yes…! I want it please please please!"
Miguel protectively wrapped his arms around you as he came, exploding and painting your insides white with a deep groan. His arms only tightened around you, forbidding you from leaving.
Flipping you both, he sits up to stare at where you both connected with lust clouded eyes. Pulling out, you groaned at the feeling of his seed pulse out of you and Miguel clicked his tongue.
"You're wasting them."
Scooping them up, he plunged them into you and your thighs twitched from the intrusion. You let your eye close as your soul slowly settles back into your body, exhaustion weighing your eyelids shut.
The sound of wet squelch of his fluids mixed with yours burned your cheeks and you forced yourself to focus on the feeling of his fingers plunging his seed back in, pleasurable albeit a little painful.
Miguel halts, only to bring your legs up to your shoulders, stirring you awake from your momentary rest to meet the wicked gleam in his dilated eyes as he pinned your thighs down and loomed over you.
"Don't even think of sleeping tonight or tomorrow. We haven't even started."
7K notes · View notes
ozzgin · 2 months
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A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.
Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out
Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave
Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)
Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.
Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader
You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?
Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror
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You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow
He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.
Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.
“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”
It’s you.
He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.
You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.
“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.
“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”
He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.
A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.
The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.
Only at night does it become unsettling.
“Going for a walk?”
You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.
“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”
It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.
To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.
You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.
With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.
When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.
Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.
“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.
Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.
Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.
Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?
You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.
Fingernails.
“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”
It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.
“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.
“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.
“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”
He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.
Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.
“I’d like to go to my room now.”
“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”
Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.
“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”
“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.
“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”
You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.
You want to cry.
He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.
“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”
“I just wanted to lay in bed.”
He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.
“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.
“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.
“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”
You briefly look at the drawer and nod.
“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”
The man ponders his next words with a hum.
“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”
The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.
“Eat up!” He encourages you.
You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.
“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”
He gazes at you in disbelief.
“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”
You return the smile without responding.
“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”
“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.
“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”
The knot in your stomach tightens.
“Not at all.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”
1K notes · View notes
sugurizz · 9 months
Text
(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)
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Nanami always keeps clear boundaries with his subordinates. He's a highly professional man who never crosses a line when it comes to mutual respect with everyone around him.
It's almost admirable in your eyes..How efficient he is, how perfectly he executes every task of his job. only does he seem different at times...
You're just so thoughtful it almost annoys him. You've already picked up on each and every one of his little habits; the way he likes his coffee, exactly when he takes his coffee breaks, where he usually hangs his freshly ironed jackets, where each piece of paperwork is kept in his office...
...Might be the old age but it makes him feel things when you knock on his door, when you greet him with the "Morning, Nanami-san, I sorted the documents from yesterday for you", or when you get his jacket for him without him even asking, with a sweet "Nanami-san, please don't forget your umbrella tomorrow, it's going to be rainy."
You're the only one who's allowed to adjust his tie when it's a bit loose, the only one allowed to lay your hands on his chest and fix his collar -breathing in the scent of his colone along the way-, the only one igniting his primal desire despite his exhausting life.
Might be the old age but he certainly wishes he could get this kind of treatment at home as well. He's rather lonely, overworked and tired whenever he gets back to his empty apartment..
Wouldn't it be better if you were the one to bake his fresh bread and prepare his delicious sandwiches for him? Give him a kiss before he heads to work and send him pictures of your legs spread with one of his designer ties barely covering your pussy?
Wouldn't it be so much better if he came back to strip you naked and take a steamy shower with you? push you on his king-sized bed to devour your sex, then have you all prepped and pretty to take his cock?
He'd be so happy with any of that, so happy he's now stroking himself and fondling his balls, trying his best to picture the way your tits pressed on his chest in the cramped elevator yesterday.
He knew your birthday was coming up but you never thought he'd even remember something so seemingly 'irrelevant' to him. So you didn't expect to find a luxurious box delievered to your doorstep, with a handwritten wishcard that had a familiar scent to it.
A note saying "wear them with your black heels, it'd look perfect" was inside the box, signed with a beautiful -Kento- on the corner...
---
"Nanami-san, your morning coffee." You greeted him with a smile the next day, leaning down as you gently posed the cup next to him.
"Nanami-san, I'm wearing your gift for my birthday. And the fabric feels so soft on me..."
a large hand pulled you back by the arm as you were about to walk off..
"Don't go there, sweet cheeks. you know I'll ruin you.."
"Then ruin me, Kento..."
I'll be at my desk if you ever need me."
You closed the door behind you, flashing him an innocent smile on the way...
---
Nanami san was missing at work that evening, secretary y/n was not there either. But thankfully your coworkers didn't know the reason behind your absence..
Nanami is busy training your throat in his spacious apartment. Your ass is on the cold floor tiles, body stripped to the lacy lingerie he bought you, caged between the wall and his lower half as he goes balls deep in your throat.
His tie is leashed around your neck with his leg pushing between your thighs, the tip of his expensive leather shoe bumping against your tiny clit.
"How much did this pussy think of me, hmm? does she like my shoe kissing her? playing with her?"
His leg presses harder, your eyes cross in pleasure as you suffocate on his veiny length..
"Look down princess, she's dirtying herself, drooling on my shoe.."
he frees himself from your mouth, leaving you with a drooly tongue and snotty nose as you shiver under him.
"Nanami..my pussy wants you, put it in her..please!"
"Nasty minx." He flicks his tongue with a grin, tears his shirt open to reveal his broad shoulders and toned chest, then tirelessly lifts you on his biceps.
"Aww...I want her too, princess.."
he kisses you senseless, giving himself a few pumps before he splits you open.
He's fevereshly rammimg inside you..golden strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, blushy cheeks blooming and hazel eyes almost teary as he finally feeds the hunger for you..
"Y/n...I need a wife! I want you-fuck-" you hug on him tighter, pussy clenching at the way he growls it against your lips... he paints your stomach white, his embrace deliciously crushing your body.
---
...A few days later the rumors started circulating among the coworkers; Both y/n and Nanami suddenly started wearing rings around the same time, and Nanami's office door started getting double locked, too often...
8K notes · View notes
lovebugism · 5 months
Note
fictober idea (if ure up for smut): eddie & reader go to a haunted house. eddie, obviously, gets a boner bc hes a weirdo. reader notices & begs to touch him right here, right now even tho theyve never done anything in public before. so, eddie finds a place to *kinda* hide & reader gets him off, but ofc, eddie cant let reader go without cumming as well.
thanks for requesting :D — eddie gets turned on protecting you at a haunted house, and you obv have to reward him for it (smut 18+, 1.5k)
fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Eddie’s been called a freak his whole life. He knew he was different since he could understand what being different meant, and if that made him a weirdo, then so be it. But now he thinks everyone might’ve been right about him. He’s a complete, utter, and total freak.
He walks with you through a haunted house, surrounded by creepy masks and fake blood and your screams, and he’s hard. His dick’s as stiff as a rock and throbbing with a distant ache when most people are scared out of their minds.
It’s all your fault, honestly. You’re clinging to him with an ironclad grip and using him as a shield every time something jumps out at you. Eddie can’t even be scared with you because all he can think about is how masculine he feels protecting you like this. Metalhead freaks like him never get to feel this way — all manly and muscly and brave.
And even though it’s hard to walk while adjusting his pants every five steps, Eddie thinks he’s hiding it pretty well. Well, he was, anyway. Until your ass brushes against his lap, and you clock him immediately.
Trapped in a secluded area of the haunted house, lit up red and blaring the Halloween theme song, you spin around to face him. “Are you hard?” you ask him over the music, face twisted in confusion. You’re not weirded out by it exactly, just genuinely puzzled.
Eddie freezes, chocolate eyes wide. He plays coy despite being caught red-handed. “No.”
You shoot him a deadpanned look, brows raised as you peer at him through your lashes.
He caves. “…Yes.”
“Does scary shit turn you on?” you wonder, laughing softly.
“No!” he responds with a dramatic drawl, sounding more offended than he should be. He is standing rock-hard in the middle of a haunted house, after all. He shifts his weight on his feet and stammers for an answer. “I just… I like being able to protect you and… everything.”
“Aw…” you hum, melting into a puddle at his feet. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”
Eddie’s visibly surprised by your response. He was prepared to get made fun of at best — slapped and dumped entirely at worst. But here you are, all but admiring how much of a freak your boyfriend is.
“Wait, really?”
You shrug. “Yeah. Especially considering last Halloween, the guy I was dating left me behind at a haunted house.”
“Pussy…” Eddie grumbles under his breath.
“Exactly,” you giggle. “So this is definitely an upgrade.”
Your palms smooth up his chest and over his shoulders. Your fingers entwine behind his neck, halfway embracing him in the middle of the haunt. His hands settle warm and wide on your sides. He squeezes you gently there and lets out a sigh of relief.
“I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a total freak,” he confesses with a forced chuckle. 
“Oh, I definitely think you’re a freak,” you retort in a monotone, then flash him a sickly sweet smile. “I’m just too obsessed with you to care.”
Eddie nods and tries not to smile too wide when you lean in to kiss him. “Noted,” he murmurs.
You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.
“Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, slurred and muffled against his mouth.
He jerks away from you on instinct. He couldn’t hide his shock if he tried. “Huh?” he wonders in a tone that borders on cartoonish. His soft features twist in confusion.
“I need your cock in my mouth like I need to breathe,” you confess with an unabashed groan.
Maybe he wasn’t the freak after all. Maybe this whole time, it was you.
“Well, that’sa tad bit dramatic, but—” You cut off his teasing by fussing with the buckle of his belt. His eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t try to stop you. “Whoa. Okay. This is… This is great and everything, babe, but there’s— there’s people around. Someone could walk in.”
You look to your left, then to your right. There’s no one here but you and Eddie in this small square room, filled with a fiery red like the warmth swirling in your belly. You blink at him with doe eyes and shrug innocently. “I don’t see anyone.”
Eddie breathes out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I just don’t wanna us to get caught, babe,” he tells you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms. “Don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Do you want a blowjob or not?”
“Well, yeah, but I—”
“Good,” you hum with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him.
Eddie’s too stunned to stop you. He doesn’t want to stop you.
Bathed in a sinful neon red, you unbutton his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his jeans. You tug at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric. 
“Shit,” he mutters when you press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip. He bites back a moan when you swirl your tongue around the bulbous strawberry head. “Shit— you’re so fucking hot.”
You worship his cock like it’s not just some random Tuesday in the middle of a haunted house. You don’t mean to, really, but he’s making such pretty noises for you — little puffs of tiny breaths and small whines he tries desperately to hide from you. 
His thighs twitch every time you run your tongue over the veins on the underside of him, going slow to feel the rapid pulse there. His fingers crawl in your hair, palms settling on your temples — not pushing you or pulling you away, just holding you as you suck gently at his aching cock.
His pink lips are parted, airing out little moans of ecstasy. His chocolate eyes are dark and glazed over in a honeyed look. His hair hangs over his face, wild and desperate to be pulled.
You let his tip linger in your mouth, drool pooling around him and soaking his twitching cock. The feeling makes him moan — a deep, hearty sound that stems from his chest. 
When his lolling head drops back, you take him in your fist. You don’t bother to work him up to a rapid pace. Using the lubrication of your spit, you jerk him with an expert hand and lick away the pearly beads of pre-cum he leaks for you.
“Ah, shit,” he groans, eyes rolled back before he squeezes them shut. “Oh, fuck, babe—”
You’re already opening your mouth for his cum before he can warn you it’s coming. You know him too well. You notice all the telltale signs before you think he does — the whimpers, the shaking thighs, the rambled moans, the way his balls draw slightly upward. You’re ready to accept his warm, salty loads the second he gives them to you. 
Eddie cups your warm cheek with a ringed hand. He tries to tell you he’s cumming, but his whines get in the way. He grunts quietly, tilting his head backward and holding tightly to you as cum pulses weakly from his slit. 
The tang dribbles over your tongue and mouth. You take it all with ease. You make a big show of it, too — lolling your tongue out of your mouth and letting his cum drip onto the softening pudge of his head. Eddie’s whole body twitches when you take his sensitive cock in your mouth again to swallow it down, like a goddamn lightning strike up his spine.
“How’d I—” His voice is hoarse, so he has to stop and clear his throat. You smile, lips swollen and spit-slick, as you tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and button them again. His eyes are half-lidded and darkened when you rise to full height. “How’d I get so fucking lucky with you, huh?”
You make a vague I don’t know sound and shrug your shoulders with an innocent grin. You lean into his palm when he puts his ringed hands on your jaw. 
“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.”
He’s just rambling now, still a bit dazed from his orgasm. He kisses you harder than anyone’s ever been kissed before, stealing the air from your lungs with ease. It’s like he’s amazed by his own adoration for you — the sheer intensity of it — the way it makes him stupid enough to let you suck his cock in a poorly hidden spot of a haunted house.
You don’t get caught, though. 
Not really, anyway.
There’s a security camera in front of the door you leave from. You make sure to give it a little wave on your way out.
Eddie holds your hand the entire way back to his van, opening the door for you like a total gentleman. It’s not the passenger side door, though, but rather the one in the very back. 
“What are you doing?” you wonder, all innocent like you still don’t have the taste of his cum in your mouth.
Eddie just grins at you, lopsided and pink and boyish. “Gotta return the favor, don’t I?”
2K notes · View notes
hier--soir · 3 months
Text
a lover's pinch | seven
joel miller x f!reader
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pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.
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Tuesday.
It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.
It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.
You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.
There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.
Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.
It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.
Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.
You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.
He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.
You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.
Still nothing.
Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.
You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.
First from yesterday afternoon:
Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x
And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:
It’s raining and miserable here
Wish I was still in new york
With you
Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.
You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.
No. You don’t think about that at all.
When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.
The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.
It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.
He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.
“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”
You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.
“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”
A family matter?
Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.
Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.
Numb fingers type;
Are you okay? Where are you?
But no response comes.
No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.
The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.
Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.
A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.
Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.
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Thursday.
Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.
This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.
The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.
The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.
Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.
So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.
And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.
He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  
He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.
Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.
He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.
Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.
Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.
Where were you today?
You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.
“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.
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Wednesday.
A week goes by with no word from Joel.
No word from you either.
You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.
So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.
“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”
“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”
An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.
The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.
“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”
A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.
The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.
He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.
And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  
You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.
‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.
Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.
For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.
Joel says your name then.
Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.
And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.
Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.
Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.
“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.
“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.
“What?”
“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”
“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”
“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 
“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”
“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”
“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”
Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.
“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”
“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.
“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”
And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.
And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.
One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.
“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”
You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.
“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”
Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.
Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.
“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”
Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”
“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”
“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”
“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”
“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”
And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.
The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.
You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  
“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.
“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.
“Are you hungry?”
You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”
Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”
It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.
The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.
He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”
You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”
Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  
“Full?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
“Is this your house?”
“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”
A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.
Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  
“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”
When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”
You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.
“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”
“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.
“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   
He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.
And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.
“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”
Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.
“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”
“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”
“Do I?” you scoff.
“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that—”
“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”
You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.
“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”
“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”
And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.
“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”
“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”
You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.
“Then why do you keep letting me?”
“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”
“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”
You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.
“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”
He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"
“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”
He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.
You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 
Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  
You blink.
Daughter.
Daughter?
“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 
You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.
His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.
You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.
Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.
Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.
There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?
“Please say somethin’.”
There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.
Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.
“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”
“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.
“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”
“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”
“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”
“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.
“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.
“Is she okay?”
“Ellie?”
“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”
“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”
“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”
“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”
“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.
“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”
“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.
“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”
“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”
“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”
And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.
“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.
“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”
Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay then.” 
You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.
“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.
Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.
It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.
And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.
He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.
He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   
“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”
The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.
“Said you were sick?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind?”
“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”
In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.
“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 
And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.
At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.
His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.
“So are you, Joel.”
“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.
“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.
“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”
“She just said it so well.”
“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”
“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him
“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”
You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.
And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.
He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.
The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.
Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.
It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.
“You should rest.”
But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.
“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.
“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”
His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.
His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.
And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.
Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.
Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.
The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.
He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.
Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.
Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.
It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.
His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.
He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”
Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.
“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.
“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”
“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.
“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.
“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 
He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.
“Hmm?”
“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”
“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.
Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.
It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.
In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.
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Thursday.
Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.
Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.
A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.
There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.
An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.
A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.
You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.
Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.
You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.
“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.
“Good morning, cowboy.”
Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.
“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”
“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.
“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.
“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”
“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.
Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.
“I could get used to this.”
“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.
“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”
“And what exactly is the whole experience?”
“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”
Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  
“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  
He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.
“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”
“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”
And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.
As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”
Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.
“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.
“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”
“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”
“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”
Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.
“Is that right?”
“S’right.”
“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”
And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?
You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”
“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.
Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.
Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”
“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”
Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.
“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.
Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.
But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.
Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  
Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.
At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.
You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.
Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.
“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”
A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.
“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.
“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.
He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.
“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.
And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.
He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.
The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.
“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.
Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.
“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  
“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.
“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”
Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.
He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.
“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.
“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 
When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.
He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.
The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.
And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.
Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.
But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  
Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.
A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.
“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.
“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”
“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  
The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.
The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.
Our little secret.
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a/n refs:
in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.
the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]
the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']
the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]
eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]
thank you for reading! x
1K notes · View notes
blueparadis · 1 year
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❝ HONEY D[R]IPS ❞ + AL-HAITHAM
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+. CWs —» fem!sub!reader x service dom!al-haitham; virginity kink, size kink, praising,edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, marking, oral act. word count — 1kish.
+. PRECIS —» al-haitham never imagined he can be tamed by a fragile creature like you.
+. NOTES —» there is a little bit of kaveh x reader & also al-haitham x kaveh cuz i refuse to seperate them. I'm in love their ‘chaos in the calm’ dynamic. totally not losing mind over him && you can read my works via NAVIGATION LINKS.
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Fragile; that was the word that flashed through his mind when al-haitham first laid his eyes on you as you walked into his life like a dashing wave on a lonely shore wrecking havoc in his mind, body, and soul.
Al-haitham hated it; the unknown feeling amongst his ribcage that made him hear his heartbeats loud and clear, even in the hubbub of a crowd. He is a man of few words unless Kaveh isn't around. Somehow Kaveh manages to create ripples of annoyance in his peaceful mind and it weathers his patience, day by day.
On the other hand, Kaveh tries his best to avoid getting so worked up upon Al-haitham's stimulation yet he can not seem to turn a blind eye to the fact that al-haitham is undeniably quiet in her presence, in your presence. Kaveh was delighted to find out that at least once, he could have the upper hand if al-haitham were to really disrespect him, or hurt his feelings. It did not turn out as he thought it would be.
When Kaveh noticed that Al-haitham's emerald eyes were not on the book's rusty pages but peeking through the book's frame, lips twisting and occasionally turning whenever you are about to leave his sight he knew he could not use this as his wild card but watching him like this is more agonizing than getting yelled at by him. 
“Quit staring. it’s creepy.”, Kaveh uttered slamming the book on the table to gain his roommate’s attention. Al-haitham’s eyes shifted from her to his senior, as he whispered, “I wasn’t”, like a lovesick fool. At that moment, Kaveh knew he was hopeless. Not only he flat-out denied his fondness for her but also refused to act. “Guess it’s the other way ‘round”, he hisses before beckoning her in his direction shouting her name from the bottom of his lungs in the library. What an incredible idea to get her attention!
Al-haitham thinks his life hasn’t been livelier before. Watching you talk with his not-so-cool senior, and hearing your giggles, complaints, and tantrums was more than he could ask for. It did not bother him how you were always like a blooming flower around Kaveh. As for Kaveh, he would not go that far as having you as Al-haitham wants. He is satisfied just getting al-haitham worked up once in a while but after a few attempts, Al-haitham got used to it.
What he was not used to is you, your innocence around him, the unalloyed conscience. It drove him insane so much so that he started to observe you more, thinking about the minute details about you like would there be any mole like the one near her chin? Does she always wear light-colored clothes? Is her nipples same the color as her lips? how would she look underneath him, naked and . . .
It has been days since he started to think of you, in a very particular way, thought of getting close to you, and discarded the habit of staring at you through the frame of the book. He was tempted to touch himself, to relieve himself from this ache but he wanted to be over once and for all, not in installments, not in the dead of night jacking off in the bathroom.
And now, here you were underneath him, just like he imagined. 
Beads of perspiration sedimented at the lining of his forehead, fingertips being rigid, heart beating like drums, and all because his cock would not fit in your pussy. He has eaten you out for hours, tasted you to the very core, fondled your boobs till you were moaning loudly, shamelessly, sucked and bit your pebbled nipples until they were bruised and yet it was not enough. 
every time you were screaming, telling him to stop fingering you he would not. “You’re about to cum angel.”, he mentioned, eyes focused on ready to pull out the moment your legs give up to hold them apart again that are craving to shut close as to submerge in the euphoric high; so that he would have you creaming on his cock rather than his fingers. 
Tears like raindrops accumulate at the corner of your eyes as he tries to push his fat cock inside you and then retreats thinking he might hurt you as you lay blanking out, reflexively playing with your boobs, biting your bottom lip, whimpering, “so..sorry.”, as he brushes the tip of his cock up and down, over your pussy lips.
He shushes, leaning to kiss those bruised swollen lips murmuring, “shhh…shhsh angel. Just relax for me, yea? Can you do that?” you nod anticipating what is going to happen next, curling your arms around his shoulders as he adds in further, “tell me if it hurts. i’ll  stop ‘kay?”
“Um-hm”
He aligns the cock to your entrance and as he had your eyes on him, he pushes his cock in with a single broad thrust making your arms instantly fly back over your head gripping the edge of the pillow, wincing in pain, and gasping at the feeling of being full. He grits his teeth feeling the warmth of your gummy walls and sheathing his cock, halfway through.
“It..hu..hurts…”, you blurt out, eyes squeezing shut, body arching and suddenly feeling more full than before. 
“Want me to … to pull out?”, he asks exhaustively grazing the tip of his nose against your neckline. You pull him into a kiss bucking your hips up trying to take him all in and then gasping as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.
Al-haitham watches you meticulously: eyes rolling white you squirm underneath him sensing a knot in your belly button that is slowly building up its moment as you adjust to his girth. “Yo’r so good for me, angel.”, starting to kiss along your glistening neckline. He is relishing the feeling of being inside you. Finally, he is fucking that pussy that has been driving him crazy for days. How can it be over just a few minutes? 
@tokyometronetwork.
7K notes · View notes
strawberrysturniolo · 3 months
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gaming // bf!chris
summary: you’re desperate for attention while your bf is playing a game with his brothers on twitch, and you distract him with a blowjob
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My day has been filled with nothing but phone calls and stress. Work felt never ending, and when I finally clocked out, I had endless calls to make. 
I could feel my anxiety dripping out of my skin with every bead of sweat that fell. I hate letting things have this power over me, but how can I stop it? At some point it just builds up and I have no choice but to let it take control. Right now, I’m fully checked out of everything for the day. 
For some sort of break from life, I use my spare key to enter my boyfriend’s house. I would have given him a heads up and let him know I was on my way, but my phone was occupied with everyone else in the world, when all I wanted was to vent to Chris about my day so he could cheer me up like he always is able to. 
I lock the door behind me and head to his room, knocking once on the door before letting myself in. He pokes his head out, his eyes wide in surprise, and I notice when I hear Matt and Nick talking to him through his headset that he had no idea who could have been coming into his room.
“Oh, hi,” he says, finally smiling and relaxing a bit when he realizes it’s me. 
I toss my bag on his bed and kick my shoes off. “Hi.”
He nods his head to the monitor in front of him, and it’s at this moment that I realize that not only is he playing a game with his brothers, but he’s also streaming it in front of god knows how many viewers, who can all see me now. It’s a miracle I stopped myself from saying something vulgar before everyone heard. 
I whisper a “Sorry” before stepping out of the frame. 
When my back is turned, I hear Matt and Nick through the stream going, “Oooooo”
“Guys, shut up,” Chris says. 
“Who could that be?” Matt asks although he knows it’s me. They’re just trying to tease Chris for my unannounced appearance during the stream.
He turns around in his chair, moving his headphones so one ear is out. “You wanna say hi?”
I let out an annoyed sigh, already wishing I could take it back, and this only grows when Chris’ face falls, thinking I was reacting that way to him. That’s not the case at all, I’m just mentally and physically tired, and the last thing I want is to be interrogated with questions in the stream’s chat, or feel like I need to entertain people. 
“I’m not really in the mood,” I finally say.
Chris gives me a soft smile, noticing something is wrong. He always does. “That’s okay.”
He turns back to the screen, and it’s at this moment that I realize I’ve probably made myself look like a complete cunt in front of tens of thousands of people.. 
I walk behind Chris, bending over his shoulder a bit so I can see the screen better, scanning my eyes over the chat. “Hi guys, I’m sorry if I sound bitchy. I just had a bad day.”
Chris looks over to me and asks, “Wanna get ice cream later and we can chill?”
As silly as it sounds, one thing me and Chris have to do when we have a bad day is treat the other person to ice cream. It’s such a simple and somewhat foolish activity, but that’s the best part. When we have our days of stress, anxiety, and misery, we always make an effort to get ice cream to forget about our issues. 
“When is later?” I ask, getting excited for our plan. 
“In like an hour,” he guesses. “We’re still streaming.”
I nod, planning to designate this next hour to getting myself unready and trying to relax for the first time today.
As I undress myself, I can feel my boyfriend staring at me. I make sure I’m far from the camera, but my first thought when he stares is that I have just flashed our audience. 
I turn back around to double check, only finding my boyfriend with red cheeks and a stupid smile. He quickly turns back around. 
With my shirt and pants off, I purposefully let myself take more time to dress in something comfier, teasing him in front of a crowd of people online. I peek over my shoulder at him, finding him shifting uncomfortably. It’s relentless, like he can’t stop himself even if he tried. 
He has a full shot of my ass when I bend over and dig for a pair of Chris’ sweatpants, finally opting for his blue Fresh Love set. 
“Chris! Come on!” Nick shouts at him, noticing how distracted his brother has become. 
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters before the sound of him clicking on his controller. 
I laugh to myself at the idea of him becoming distracted, a sense of confidence growing inside of me knowing that I was the one who made him that way. 
I stand next to him, staying out of the frame of the camera. I smirk at his boner, which only grows by the second. It’s prominent through his gray sweatpants. 
He notices me staring. “Stop it,” he warns through gritted teeth. 
I lower myself to the floor next to his gaming chair. My fingers take over, tracing over his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath that is luckily mistaken as a missed shot on his opponent. 
He quickly reaches up to his headset, muting his microphone before he says, “You better be careful,” in his normal volume. 
“You better be careful,” I tell him. “You’re the one being watched by…” I peek at the monitor. “Seventy-five thousand people.” 
His eyes dart between the screen and me. “Are you just going to tease me and try to embarrass me in front of everyone.”
I pout a bit, insulted that he would think so lowly of me. “Of course not,” I assure him. “I’m going to suck you off, and you’re gonna behave and make sure no one knows.” 
He licks his lips, trying to act nonchalant. He does nothing but nod and sink a bit in his chair, making sure I will be completely out of the frame below him. 
He returns to his game, spitting out insults at his brothers and trying to seem invested in their game as they continue to play. 
My hands tug at the string of his sweatpants, loosening them before tugging them down to his thighs. He lifts his hips a little bit, helping me out without making anything too obvious. 
His black briefs hug his dick. His erection is so clear and tight against his underwear, I can see him leaking out onto the fabric. My pussy clenches at the sight. 
I trace my finger over where I know his tip is, following the pathetic splotch of pre-cum. His hips shift, and I squeeze his thigh as a warning. 
I press soft kisses to his clothed dick, peering up at him and watching his expressions change, trying not to laugh at his attempts of playing off his outward reactions to my touch to him as reactions to the game. 
I pull the last layer of clothing out of the way watching his cock smack his stomach before his pre-cum continues to leak, now onto the trail of hair between his belly button and his pelvis. 
I wrap a hand around him, stroking him lightly, spitting down on his tip and rubbing it on him through every stroke. His stomach starts to heave, already desperate for more. 
I poke my tongue out, licking over his slit and tasting what he’s been leaking for minutes now. I continue to spit on his dick, making a mess on him before taking him in my mouth. He rolls his lips into his mouth, trying his hardest not to make a sound. 
I swirl my tongue around his tip through every motion, taking him deeper over time. The sight of him struggling above me is enough to make me wet. 
“Alright we’re gonna take a little five minute break,” Nick’s voice echos. My eyes widen, and I find myself pulling Chris out of my mouth at the sound. “We’ll be back so just sit tight.” 
Chris quickly turns off his camera, pressing the mute button on his headset and tosses it onto the bed behind him. 
Then, his hands find my face, holding my cheeks as I take him into my mouth again. “Fuck, baby that’s so good.” His face contorts now that he can take advantage of the camera being off. “Oh my god, just like that.”
I continue to bob my head on him, his tip reaching the back of my throat each time. His stomach heaves harder now, his hand raking through my hair before thrusting himself deeper. 
My eyes widen before gaining a comfortable rhythm, drool beginning to drip down my chin as my mouth hangs open, getting sloppily fucked by my needy boyfriend. 
“I’m gonna cum,” he whines. “Fuck– Please don’t stop. Please, baby.” 
I nod, not wanting to take my mouth off of him and risk us losing time before the stream starts again. I lower a hand to his balls, rubbing and squeezing them until I can feel them tighten in my hold. His moans become strained, trying not to let his brothers hear us. Any other time he really wouldn’t care, but I know he’s worried about getting teased in front of fans, and the last thing we want is attention being brought to what we’re clearly doing. 
His thrusts become erratic, my eyes watering as he fucks my throat. I have to mentally encourage myself to keep going. 
“Ohhhhh, shit,” he groans. His eyes are screwed shut, opening when he feels my lips close around his cock as he releases his cum into my mouth. He watches me take it, his jaw slack. 
I pull his underwear up delicately, knowing he’s overly sensitive at the moment, before doing the same with his underwear.
I press a soft kiss to his lips, earning a pleased hum from him in response. 
“You look so pretty in my set,” he compliments me, his voice low as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. 
“Compliments to the CEO,” I grin.
He smiles back at me, hugging me tightly as we bask in the last few moments of silence before he jumps back on the game. 
900 notes · View notes
antiquarianfics · 7 months
Text
The Best Things Take Time
Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.
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A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.
You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.
----
Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.
The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.
Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.
Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.
Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.
Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.
Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.
“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.
“You get used to it,” Sam replies.
You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.
“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.
You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.
It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.
Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.
Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.
Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.
“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.
“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”
He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.
Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.
“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.
“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.
Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.
Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.
He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.
“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.
The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.
“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.
“Oh.”
“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”
You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.
“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.
Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.
“Okay.”
He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.
Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.
“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.
“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.
“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.
Your eyes widened and you blushed.
“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.
She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.
“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”
She turned to Bucky then.
“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”
With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.
“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”
Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.
And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.
The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.
“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”
You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.
Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.
"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.
"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.
"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.
"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"
You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.
"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."
1K notes · View notes
nonpoppin · 25 days
Note
I remember you saying something that Farleigh doesn't intentionally make reader jealous, and when reader is jealous she doesn't act possessive/snubby and stuff and actually COMMUNICATES like a mature person, but does Farleigh?? 🤨🤨 I think not. How would reader deal with the bbg's jealousy? 🤔🤔🤔
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Summary: Farleigh needs to learn that he's not the only person in your life but until then, he's gonna be a little shit about it.
Or,
The one where Reader becomes a brat tamer.
Warnings: insecurities, talks of dom/sub shit, blowjobs, face sitting/pussy eating, PinV sex, begging, crying from overstimulation. Talks of cheating but not the way you think.
Notes: I don't take requests, i say as i write every cool ask i am sent. This is 3.7k words, unedited but I need it out of my drafts 💀 so I'm closing my eyes and posting.
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Farleigh hates Todd Foster.
He hates his smile and his annoying wheezy laugh. He hates his messy hair and his blue eyes. But most of all, he hates how Todd fucking Foster has just spawned into your life on a random Tuesday and how you couldn't seem to shut up about the man.
Farleigh's fingers twitch over his keyboard as he turns to peer back at your half dressed state. You're giggling. It shouldn't make him annoyed but it does, you're giggling– your makeup is smeared, his blanket is pulled up to cover your chest, the hickeys he left on your neck are on display, you're waking up in his bed after he's thoroughly fucked you to sleep hours prior but you're giggling at another man's text and it makes his skin itch.
“Baby.” He calls and you give a halfhearted hum. You don't look away from your phone, your fingers flying across your screen as another giggle slips from your lips. Farleigh turns, his arms crossing over his chest as his tongue drags across his teeth, “What round y'all on?”
That catches your attention. You blink at him, your head tilting as you take in the furrow of his brow— how his bare biceps bulge over his clenched fists to how low his sweatpants sit on his hips and how they shift even lower as he spreads his legs. He's pissed but lord above, he is hot. You have a hard time dragging your eyes away from his body but when you do, you're a little startled by the heat in his eyes, “What?”
“I said,” He starts, a humorless smile pulling at his lips. “What round are you and Todd on– seeing as you've been ignoring me for him since you've woken up.”
Your phone buzzes in your hand and you look down briefly to see Todd's response flash across the screen and Farleigh sucks his teeth. You jerk at the sound, your eyes finding his as a confused laugh leaves you, “I woke up to you studying, I didn't want to bother you and you don't even know if it's Todd-”
Farleigh can't help the sneer that pulls at his lips. “It’s always Todd.” He says. “‘Todd did this-’, ‘Todd did that -’ and ‘Babe did you know Todd-’ I would think he was your fucking boyfriend with the way you talk about him.”
An annoyed heat shoots through you and you swallow, blinking at your boyfriend. “What, so you want me to apologize for having friends?”
“You know what?” Farleigh is shaking his head,a scoff passing through his lips as turns back to face his desk. “Nevermind. I don't care.”
“But you obviously do.” You sigh. “Do you want to talk about it or–”
Farleigh speaks before he thinks, his head swimming in the anger he's so clearly trying to swallow back. “No, I wouldn't want to take time from your precious Todd.”
Farleigh can feel you gaping at the back of his head before a disbelieving laugh leaves your lips. Your hands are trembling as you push from his bed, your legs are a little shaky but you don't let that stop you from gathering your clothes off his floor. You throw them on haphazardly and Farleigh doesn't turn to look at you once, his shoulders drawn nearly to his ears in his effort to ignore you. “You’re a fucking asshole.” You spit once you slip on your shoes and Farleigh shrugs. You see his ears turning red from your place near his door and scoff. “Call me when you're less of a dick.”
You make sure to slam his door on the way out.
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“No offense but your boyfriend is a whiny bitch.”
Todd dodges the fry you throw at him with a laugh and you roll your eyes. “You don't get to call him names when this is your fault. He thinks we're fucking or something!”
Todd steals one of your fries, dipping in his milkshake. “No offense or anything coz’ you're a proper looker but you aren't my type.”
You throw your hands up. “I know that! I've said plenty of times we're just friends and I don't know today just got to him–” Todd opens his mouth and you silence him with a look. “And I'm not breaking up with him, that's stupid and I'm not going to drop you because that's not fair to me.”
“Well there goes two of my plans.” Todd jokes. He takes another one of your fries, looking away in thought. “He’s never done this before, right?”
“No, never.” You answer. “We always talked through our issues, you know? He's never snapped at me before.”
Todd hums, his eyes flicking back to you. “Fuck him.”
“Todd–”
“I’m serious.” He continues, he rolls his hand the fry flopping around limply in his grasp. “If this is the first time he's ever been jealous like this, fuck him. Show him there's nothing to be jealous about when you’re only rocking his world. Make him forget his name and all that.”
Flustered, you fall quiet. Your fingers drumming across the table as you think, “I don't– We experiment, yeah?”
Todd nods, eating the fry. “Naturally.”
“And he's always been the one rocking my world.” You continue slowly. Saying this out loud sounds wrong, the words feel like tar leaking from your mouth, sticking to your teeth. You love what Farleigh does for you and to you in the bedroom, you've been bent in half, fucked upside down, and tied up more times than you can count but it was always you never him. “I don't think he'd like it any other way.”
Todd snorts but when he sees your rather serious look he laughs. “You’re joking, right?”
“What?”
“Lovebug, no offense but your man wants to be dominated.” Todd starts his voice flat, “From what I've seen and what you've told me about him— he's practically begging for it. He even got this dreamy look in his eyes that one time you pinched his thigh and told him to behave.”
You sink in your seat. “You saw that?”
“I see everything but that's not the point.” Todd waves his hand. “The point is– the signs are there and your man is a brat. You just have to fuck him dormant.”
“Jesus.” You hiss, your face hot as you throw a cautious look around the diner. “Can you be any louder?”
Todd snickers at your embarrassment but falls silent to pick through your food and you're momentarily left with your thoughts. You wouldn't lie and say the idea didn't sound appealing to you— you liked being in charge, the rare times Farleigh let you do what you want while on top of him had been the hardest you've ever cummed. You had once ridden him so hard with your hand around his throat and that was hot—He hadn't stopped you nor pushed you off in the moment, in fact, his eyes seemed to have rolled to the back of his head as you bounced on him. There have been other times now that you've thought about it, times where Farleigh seemed to instantly cave when you put up a little fight, how his cheeks used to flush when you argued with him. Hell, you should have known when Farleigh had told you he loved you on top that one time he was drunk!
The groan that leaves you is pitched with embarrassment and self-realization. You've been blind and Todd was right— Farleigh had been fucking begging for it. “He could have just asked.” You speak mostly to yourself, your voice filled with annoyance but thinly veiled want. Your blood is running hot as you begin to imagine Farleigh under you. Truly, under you and him begging. “He’s so annoying.”
Todd laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Glad you've figured it out. Now, can you do me a huge favor and get me his cousin's number–”
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Farleigh nearly breaks his phone when he gets a notification from your Myspace account. It's a picture of you and Todd, he's the one who took the picture, his wide toothy smile front and center with you in the background, a half smile on your face, your chin resting on your palm. It's been four hours since you stormed out, you didn't call, you didn't text him, you didn't even update your mood on Myspace to be passive aggressive. You spent four hours away from him and Farleigh could only assume you spent the entirety of that time with Todd.
His mood only worsens when he sees that your mood status has finally changed. Touched. The first thought that flies through his mind is ‘He bets you are.’ Before he shakes it from his head almost violently— Farleigh knows you and knows that you'd sooner die than ever cheat on anyone let alone him. Farleigh knows better but he can't help the bitterness that boils in his blood, he can't but be jealous. The very thought of him, Farleigh Start, being jealous makes his stomach turn. He was used to making his partner jealous but you had quickly nipped that in the bud when you first started dating and you had sat him down and explained that he hurt your feelings and before then, before you, Farleigh wouldn't have cared. Farleigh tries to ignore his thoughts that are telling him why he cares so much— it's a word he's barely ever used but it settles in his head, makes his bones ache as he closes his eyes with a groan.
Farleigh loves you. He knows he does, he wouldn't have stuck around this long if he didn't and he's fucking scared of it; of this hold you have on him.
It's been four hours since he's seen you and it's been four hours of him starting to text an apology, only to delete it. Four hours of him punching in your number before turning off his phone before he could dial it. Farleigh wants to say he's sorry but it's like pulling rotten teeth out with a pair of rusted pliers. It's good to get the rot out, to stop it before it turns deadly but there's always a chance of the rust making it worse.
Farleigh is typing out what feels like his hundredth, ‘I’m sorry–’ text when his door knob jiggles. He shuts off his phone, tossing it as he throws his feet over the edge of his bed, ready to answer the door, assuming it's probably Felix when he hears the key slide into its slot. He freezes, if only for a moment before his heart starts to pound— only you have a key to his room. An illegal little copy he slid to you when the two of you got really serious.
You don't see him when you enter and Farleigh doesn't dare speak. You're huffing to yourself, shrugging your jacket off and kicking off your shoes— your whole outfit is different from when you left; it's cute but comfortable. A sweater skirt clings to your hips, a matching in color oversized sweater sliding off your shoulders. Farleigh swallows at the sight of you and you turn, nearly jumping out of your skin when the both of you make eye contact.
Farleigh shifts. He hasn't bothered to change— still in the same sweatpants and shirtless, he feels underdressed before you. “You’re back.”
You quirk a brow at him. “Of course I'm back.”
The way you say it makes him feel warm. Like he's an idiot for thinking you'd ever walk away from him. It's that warmness that has him throwing his arms open for you and it has him melting when you come without a fight. Farleigh loops his arms around your waist, pulling you so close you're arching into him. His head rests on your chest, ear pressed against your steady heartbeat and he mumbles. “Sorry.”
Your hands rub their way up his arms before they settle on his shoulders. “That’s it?”
Farleigh groans against you. “I’m really, really sorry for snapping at you. Wasn't right and I'm an asshole.”
You hum, your fingers sliding up the base of his neck. You angle his head up and press a kiss against his lips. Farleigh sighs into your mouth— the kiss is sweet, slow as leaking syrup and warm so when you make the move to deepen it, your tongue licking into his mouth and fingers curling into his hair, Farleigh lets out a startled gasp. This kiss is filthy. More than he's ever gotten from you, you're kissing him like you're starved, it's all tongues and teeth– and when you suck on his tongue and bite on his lip and Farleigh feels himself swelling in his pants. “Fuck,” He gasps, leaning away to suck in air. You don't stop kissing him, trailing kisses across his face and down his neck. “I thought– I thought you were mad at me?”
You shake his arms free from your waist as you begin to kneel before him, your lips find his neck and your teeth scrape against his pulse and Farleigh bites his lip and even though he's confused he bares his neck to you and you wonder how you never noticed. “I am.” You mumble against his skin. You're careful with how you press your teeth into his skin and Farleigh moans all the same, his hands clenching at his sides. You soothe the darkening skin with a small kiss, “I’m really upset with you, Far’.”
Farleigh starts to apologize again, his lips start to form the words but when you settle to your knees before him blinking up at him, he feels his heart skip several beats and his teeth clack with how fast he shuts his mouth. You palm him through his sweats, your cheek nuzzling against his crotch and if he didn't feel you through his pants, Farleigh would be sure he was dreaming. “I’m– Baby, I'm so confused right now.”
You smile up at him. “You remember our safe word?”
He's sure his brain whites out. Your lips are moving, he sees them but he doesn't hear you— his blood rushing everywhere but to his head. The breath that leaves him is little, punched out of him but he's nodding his head so quickly he sure his brain is rattling in his skull. “Yeah,” He whispers and Farleigh thinks he's shaking from his building excitement. You give him a look and he bites back a smile. It's cute to see you trying to be like this– he thinks the dominance doesn't fit you but you're willing to give and he's eager to take.“Yeah I remember, it's ‘basket’.”
You nod and your hands find the tops of his sweats. Farleigh is quick to help you pull them off and you lean back and watch as he kicks them off his legs as his dick springs free. You nearly roll your eyes at the lack of underwear but Farleigh works a quick down himself out of reflex and it has you smacking his hand away. He opens his mouth to protest, maybe, but you're already leaning forward, your hands falling on his twitching thighs as you pepper kisses along his cock and his mouth slams shut. It's rare that you do this with him, a bad experience in the past made you hesitant and Farleigh would never force you to do so, so it was usually saved for birthdays, anniversaries or the rare day you felt confident enough to do so. Your tongue drags across the underside of his dick and he allows a soft moan to fall from his lips, he guesses you're feeling confident in your anger.
It's embarrassing how quickly he becomes undone. You only give him small teasing kisses and licks, your tongue dances across his flushed tip and he's dripping, his cock twitching in your steady hands. When you finally take him in your mouth, the sound that punches out of him is tortured,“Oh, fuck, please.” He moans. His legs clench in effort not to fuck up into your mouth, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. Your cheeks hollow as you bob your head, drooling down the length of him, your lashes flutter as you take him. Farleigh has always been a mouthful, he's warm and salty but it's not unpleasant— he tastes faintly of his body wash. You swallow around him and his stomach clenches, a moan of your name tumbling out his lips. “Do that again, please.”
And you do, over and over again till he's panting and moaning above you, your jaw aches but you don't stop. He chants your name like it's something sacred and the sounds send a red hot rod of desire shooting through you, “I’m gonna cum.” He warns his voice breaking and you only feel a little bad when you pull away, a glob of spit connecting you both.
Farleigh whines, dragging out your name but you're pushing to your feet, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. You have an odd, heavy look in your eye and Farleigh thinks— how angry could you really be when you're guiding him to lay back against his bed as you pull your clothes off. How mad can you really be when you're climbing on top of him, putting your soaking cunt in his face and telling him,“Make a mess.”
Farleigh drags you down till you're resting heavy against his face, his arms round tight around your thighs as he licks into you. He grinds his nose against your clit, his tongue dipping in and out of your clenching hole as your hips roll against his face. Your hand is clenched in his hair, pulling him closer and he moans, drooling as you guide his head to move faster against your pussy. He's mouthing against you, swallowing everything you have to offer and you moan, grinning, “You like that?” You ask, yanking his head back and away from your cunt. His face is shiny with your slick and his eyes are glossy, he licks his lips nodding as much as he could in your grip. It makes your smile grow, “You like eating my pussy?”
Farleigh can't even pretend to be embarrassed when he moans out a desperate ‘yes’ because you're guiding his head back to where he wants to be most and your hand is reaching back to stroke his still sensitive dick. He tries to keep his focus on you, sliding his tongue through your folds but your thumb slides over the head of his cock, smearing precum down his length and his hips jump to chase the feeling. He attempts to lean back to see what you're doing and the moment he does, your hand stills. You're looking at him with a raised brow and he's whining again, trying to jerk his hips into your warm hand. “I’m just– baby, I'm so close.”
You blink, “So?”
His mouth drops open, he stutters, “I just–” He licks his lips again, his hands tightening on your thighs. “I really, really want to cum and I promise I'll make you cum so hard after just please, baby it feels like my heart is gonna explode.”
Your hand tightens on his dick and moans softly. “I thought you were sorry.”
“I am but–”
“So show me your sorry instead of begging to cum like some sort of–” You stop yourself and Farleigh watches with curious eyes, you already got this far, you might as well commit to it. “–Some sort of slut. Make me cum and I'll think about whether you deserve it or not.”
Farleigh takes a breath, his eyelashes fluttering. How bad can it be? When even at your meanness, you're stumbling over your words and you're still touching him, giving him little taste of pleasure. How bad could it really, really be?
An hour later, he realizes he fucked up. He's choking back a sob, a fist pressed to his mouth as you bounce on his dick. You're chasing your own pleasure, you're ignoring his begging, his choked moans. You've already cummed twice, on his mouth and the second time you had just warmed his cock while you touched yourself till you were shaking, clenching around him so tight he nearly bursted but you know him, you were quick to pull off of him and even the drag of that had him moaning. You've cummed twice and Farleigh still hasn't reached his peak, you smacked away his efforts to try, you had called him names but then kissed his tears, you had kept his hands to your breast so he couldn't change your pace. He was shaking, broken versions of your name falling from his lips.
“Oh, god– please.” He gasps, his hand flying from his mouth and to his side. He knows he can't touch you by now, you always slowed your pace when he tried. “I’m sorry. I'm so fucking sorry– I'll be g-good, I'll be so fucking good baby, I needa– oh fuckfuckfuck–”
You smile, leaning forward with a small moan. “Yeah? Y-you'll be good?”
Farleigh is nodding his head so fast you momentarily fear it'll fall off his neck. But he's babbling, drooling— his eyes on how your pussy swallows his dick. “S-so fucking good, please, please–”
You press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Go ahead, baby boy.”
His hands find your waist instantly as he fucks up into you at a pace that has your breath hitching. You grasp for his shoulders as he moans in your ear, he's slurring his words but it sounds a little like–
“Oh, fuck– I fucking love you– Love your pretty fucking pussy, oh shit, o-oh shitttt.”
When he cums it's warm, sputtering and endless. He continues to roll up into you, his teeth sealing over your shoulder and he bites, groaning from his own prolonged overstimulation and you have no choice but to take it, clenching and milking him for all he's worth. When he's done, he gives his hips one last thrust before he leans back, his arms still wrapped around you and lets his back hit his bed with a tired huff. “G-give me like two minutes and I promise I'll make you cum.”
You laugh softly, drawing a pattern across his sweaty chest as you look up at him. “I’m fine, Far’. Are you okay?”
He looks down at you with a wide smile. “We are so doing that again.”
626 notes · View notes
skteezcursed · 27 days
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❝HELLO, DARLING❞ — h.hj (request)
PAIRING. idol!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader.
GENDER&WARNINGS. smut. idol! au. pleasure dom hyunjin. sub reader. established relationship. pet names (darling, baby, slut). fingering. cunnilingus. praised degradation. overstimulation. clothed sex. nipple play. unprotected sex (please don’t). again, this turned out way filthier than i originally planned.
SYNOPSIS. Hyunjin gets back home after a formal event, he knew you loved to see him in a suit, so it was no real surprise when he found you eating him up, so he decided to take advantage of that as you were so pretty waiting on the couch for him to arrive.
WORD COUNT. 3,4k.
NOTES. english is not my first language. request made by my little star @straykidsholicleigh, thank you babes, hope you like it! bye ♡.
IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.
CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡
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                It hasn’t been long since he left the event, his eyes still hurt from all the camera flashes, all he could think about was getting to your house for a much deserved five days of rest before heading back to the recording studio for the next comeback. As he checked the time, he sighed, you were probably half asleep by now, but it didn’t matter, all he wanted was you wrapped around his arms, your scent intoxicating his lungs, just having you close, that was all he wanted.
                Hyunjin said a quick goodbye to the other members in the car and the driver as they left him on the parking lot of the apartment building, his face quickly masked and sunglasses on his eyes, covering the recent piercing he got on his eyebrow. He politely said goodnight to everyone he encountered, hoping no one would recognize him, pressing the button to your floor, his dried throat not helping with the anxiety that still rushed through his veins from the event, something that always happened, something he’d probably never get used to it.
                His fingers quick to type in the sequence of numbers to enter your apartment, finding it on a dim light, chuckling as he stepped inside, realizing how you’d still cared for him. Quick feet towards the chicken as he took both glasses and mask, his hands found a glass, quickly filling up with water, his throat thanking him for that, as he put some more water, turning around drinking a few more. His eyebrows quirked up as he found you staring at him, a smirk finding his delicious lips as he left the glass in the sink, lazy steps your way as he reminded how you loved him in a suit.
                “Hello, darling,” his hoarse voice made the tingling sensation, that it always accompanied his presence, to rush through your body, as he noticed how you shut your legs, the smirk grew wide as he squats at your side on the couch, “why aren’t you asleep, baby?”
                “Wanted to be awake when you came home,” your eyes lingered a little too much on his piercing – that you loved so much – and his plumped lips, as your hands wrapped around the suit he was using, unlike his usual choice, black on black – which you loved – he had a black and white. “Have to thank you stylist for the change in the black-on-black choice.”
                “Does my darling like this choice of suit?” He purred as his lips met the spot bellow your ear, making you gasp as his left hand found your thigh. “Or would she prefer to see it on the floor?”
                “Floor, please.”
                He chuckled at the reaction he got, stepping away from you to leave the black suit in a place it wouldn’t be damaged in anyway, as he turned to you loosening his tie, you were already turned to him on the couch, your feet now touching the floor, but your legs were crossed and your silk night dress hugging every single part of your body, including your hardened nipples, which were the first to catch Hyunjin’s attention as he rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt, unbuttoning the first three buttons of the shirt as he approached you.
                Eyes lingered on his veiny forearm, falling on his hand and long fingers, imagining how well they always took care of you, how they curled inside of you… You pressed your thighs together, getting a ‘tsk’ from Hyunjin as his hands went up your half-covered thighs, fingers each time closer to where you wanted them as your eyes lingered on his forearm, God you loved when rolled up his sleeves, the pool in your underwear making it even more clear how much you liked it.
                “What is it my darling?” His hands found the inside of your thighs as his knees found the floor, as you pressed your thighs again, his hands swiftly and firmly spread them open, the wet patch on your laced underwear now completely visible to him before he got closer to you, the end of his tie finding your clothed clit, the wetness making the fabric thin enough to make you jolt at the contact his tie had with you clothed clit. “Did my suit turned you on that much? Or was it my rolled-up sleeves?” You whined as one of your hands found his tie pulling him closer, trying to feel his lips on you. “Or is it just the need to have me inside you, somehow?”
                “Hyunie, please…”
                His smirk vanished as his lips crashed into your, firm, dominant, hungry. His hands quickly spreading your legs further apart as his clothed crotch pressed deliciously on your soaking core, making you moan in between the kiss before his teeth bit your lower lips, pulling it lightly as his eyes met yours, both full of lust, hungry for each other.
                “How may I help you, darling?”
                “Please, Hyunie, I need you.”
                “Where do you need me though?” His left hand squeezed your right thigh as his right hand wandered on the inside of your left, the tips feather like touches, burning your skin as they got closer to your soaking cunt. “Is it here?” He squeezed your inner thigh closer to where you wanted him, as you shook your heard he sighs and kept moving his hands, as his fingers quickly found your wet underwear, but quickly went up, to your nightgown, finding your hard nipples not so well hidden under the silk dress. “How about here?”
                You arched your back as he pinched your right nipple, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he pulled the upper part of the nightgown down, just enough to expose your hardened sensitive nipples as his right hand took the right one, as his mouth found the left, your right hand pulling him closer to you by the tie before your left hand find his wine colored hair, pulling it as his teeth bit your left boob, leaving a mark for the morning.
                His wicked grin quickly finding your eyes as his right hand pinched your nipple once more as he lashed forward, silencing your screamed moan with his lips, but this time it was sloppier, you could tell your lips were red and swollen just like his, just how he knew you liked to see him. His fingers pinched your sensitive nipple one last time making you cry out a moan as his hands wrapped around your neck, no pressure, just asserting dominance, light pressure squeezes that made you see stars as you felt his bulge again against your soaking cunt as he kissed all the way down your jawline until he found the sweet spot below your ear.
                “You still haven’t answer, darling,” his thumb pushed your jaw up and his teeth sank in your neck making you moan as he marked you once again, your hips moving as you tried to get more friction against his bulge, making him laugh against your neck. “Such a pathetic little slut aren’t you?” You whined as you felt his hips took a considerable distance from you, shutting your legs around him, making him laugh and pull your face to him, his lips mere millimeters away from yours. “You either tell me where you want me, or I’ll leave you alone to take care of yourself, got that bitch?” You could cum just by the way he was talking, just by the looks he was giving you, just because of him. You nodded and gasped as his grip around your neck tighten. “I knew you were a good slut, just need to be reminded of your place.”
                “Hyunie, ple-please,” you whined again taking his forearm and pulling slightly, but he didn’t make a single attempt on letting your neck go, “please Hyunie, I need you, I need your fingers inside of me, please.”
                He could have cum at just the sight of you pleading for him to touch you, he loved to make you beg, he loved to see you melting under him, his pretty little darling, his fucking dirty slut.
                “Should we remove this shameful piece of fabric then?” You watched as both his hands found your panties ripping them apart, the lace destroyed but you couldn’t care less as you felt the cool air against your hearted soaking core. “Now, let’s see how wet a bitch can get,” his long middle and index fingers moved slowly around your labia, your arousal quickly wetting them as he parted your lips making you clench around nothing, “such a filthy little slut and this is all for me, isn’t it?”
                The tip of his index finger played with your entrance, as he lowered himself, not breaking eye contact until your glistering pussy was the only thing he could see, taking his finger out before opening you up even more. His hot breath reaching your clit making you clench and he chuckled as he saw it happen, you tried to force your legs shut, but he forced them open as his eyes trailed back to your face, while his own reached closer and closer to you clit as he placed a lazy light kiss there, making your hips jolt and a whine leave your lips, the smirk present as his tongue licked your folds lazily making you moan as your right hand found his wine color hair, fingers lazily messing them up so you can catch his stare as he kissed your clit once again before inserting his index and middle finger inside you making you gasp as he quickly lifted himself to crash your lips together as he swiftly moved his fingers in and out of you.
                Your hips trying to follow his fingers movements, as the heated sloppy kisses moved for your lips to your jaw and neck before it lands on your uncovered breasts. The end of his tie finding your clit again, touching It ever so lightly to become a torture, but you couldn’t stop the movement of your hips, not as his fingers pumped in and out, his teeth biting your breasts as his tongue wet your nipples from time to time. You were a huge mess under him, just like he loved it.
                The so familiar heat started to build up on your core, Hyunjin knew as his left hand held one of your trembling legs open as considering how much you clenched around his fingers, the moaning mess you were becoming, barely able to hold eye contact as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched trying to give him even more access to your chest. You felt his smile and you knew you were doomed, as you barely had time to say anything before he stops his movements inside of you, making you look at him with a frustrated face.
                “Hyunie, why?”
                “All in good time, darling, need to have my time with you,“ he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the couch before pushing both legs against your chest, his hot breath meeting your swollen sensitive bud. “Such a pretty little cunt you have darling, and such a mess my little slut did, will you be good to me, hun?” Your breathing was erratic as your eyes met his, waiting for your response, as you did nothing, he kissed your clit making you whine. “You better answer when I talk to you, bitch, or else this pussy will not be filled with any cock tonight.”
                “Sorry Hyun, I’ll be good, I’ll be a good slut for you.”
                “That’s right, darling, you will be,” his tongue quickly giving kitty licks to your core and clit, making your right hand find his hair pulling ever so often as your hips moved trying to get the best of friction, seeking out your high that had been so wrongfully denied before, feeling his nose against your clit ever so often before his left hand go over your hips holding you down, “behave, I thought you said you were gonna be good, but I guess a bitch is always a bitch, right?”
                Before any word came out of your mouth, his index and middle finger entered you again making you cry and squirm, but Hyunjin didn’t complain, you could feel the vibration of his chuckle throughout your body as he took your clit in his lips, his fingers curling inside you at times he slowed down his pace, he noticed your shaking legs, your rapid breathing, how your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull as your open mouth left some moan escape from time to time.
                As his face left your cunt and his fingers started to lazily move in and out of you taking away your orgasm for the second time. You cried finding his glistering lips and nose close to your face as he crashed his lips into yours once again, you could taste yourself on his tongue, both hands finding his neck and hair as your started to made out as his fingers slowly started to gain rhythm again. The orgasm building it up faster this time around as you opened your mouth moaning loudly, your right hand finding his forearm, nails digging into the skin, as your eyes opened to get drunk on the sight of him on top of you.
                And good God, how you loved him like that.
                His hair messy, his face red and glowing from your arousal, lips red and swollen, eyes dark with lust, the sly smile on his lips because he knew how good he made you feel, because he loved how much of a mess he could make out of you. His loose tie hanging from his neck, his shirt rolled up to the elbows leaving his forearms to show just how well he was working out as his fingers disappeared inside your sensitive cunt, you saw when his thumb quickly went to your clit, circle movements tortuously joining his fingers curling inside you, making you nails dig harder on his skin, but he didn’t seem to complain as your hips also moved quickly helping you get to your high, just praying he wouldn’t deny you a third time.
                “Hy-Hyunie, please!”
                “Let go darling, I got you,” the buildup came rushing in as you screamed your denied orgasms, your left hand pulling his tie as his face found the crook of your neck, open mouth kisses being left there as his fingers lazily helped you out of your high. “Guess I stretched you enough to take my cock, what you think hun?”
                “Yes, yes please.”
                Your limbs were weak, but still you tried to reach for his clothed hard leaking cock, your mouth watering at the tent in his pants and your pussy clenching at nothing at the thought of his cock deep inside of you. Instead of letting you take his cock in hands, he held your wrists on top of your head as he laid you down, right hand bringing your trembling leg to the couch’s back rest as his left held your wrists in place on the arm rest.
                “So pretty all fucked out like that,” his right thumb caressing your bottom lip pulling it down before putting both his fingers drenched in your arousal inside your mouth, “lick it clean, bitch.”
                And so you did, your tongue skillfully wrapping around his long fingers, your taste filing your mouth as Hyunjin started to lazily pushed his clothed bulge against your sensitive core, making you squirm under him before taking his fingers out of your mouth, bringing his lips to yours, your taste on both your mouths making him ever harder as his right hand took his belt away and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down to his knees as his cock twitched inside his underwear, making you parted your lips so he could properly see your face as he entered you.
                His fingers pulled down his underwear just enough to free his red angry leaking cock and balls, his eyes focused on you as he stroked his length, using the precum to help as your eyes wouldn’t leave his wet red tip, your mouth watering and all you wanted was to take his cock in your mouth.
                You bit your lip as you noticed Hyunjin guiding his cock to your entrance, the tip finding your clit, playing with it, making you roll your eyes, moving your hips without noticing, feeling the squeeze on your wrists, making you stop and find Hyunjin’s eyes and sly smile already on you as he once again played with his cock on your clit before lowering and finding your heated entrance, pushing just the tip inside watching as you opened your mouth with a gasp, feeling every inch on his long cock entering you, your walls hugging him all the way down as you felt his tip on your cervix.
                As you adjusted to his size, Hyunjin’s face found your neck, open mouth kisses being left there are he tried to move oh so slightly, testing how much you could take after the overstimulation he caused you earlier. As your nails found his wrist, his eyes went to yours, pleading, lustful. His lips found yours once again as his right hand settled on your hips, not breaking the kiss and he started to move fast, hitting your cervix so tortuously and deliciously that you moaned against the kiss, breaking it as his forehead touched yours, both eyes meeting.
                “Fuck, you taking me so well darling, such a good slut for me, taking my cock so well,” although you tried, you couldn’t form words, the overstimulation with how his cock was now hammering inside of you, “Oh, did I fucked you dumb, bitch? Did you like my fingers and cock so much you can’t utter a single word?”
                “So, fu-fucking go-good,” you muttered as you felt his movements become sloppier, his breathing erratic, not much different from yours. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, he was close, his lips found yours before a moan escape your lips as his right fingers found your sensitive clit again, making you cry out trying to move your hands which Hyunjin held firmly around his left hand. “Hyun, too much, so full, so- AH FUCK, PLEASE, DON’T STOP! FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!”
                Your whole body started to shake uncontrollably trying your best to decrease the overstimulation you were feeling, but Hyunjin wouldn’t let you, his body on top of yours, his right fingers still working on your clit as his thrusts became erratic, his face hiding on your neck, open mouth kisses and small bites being left there as both became a moaning mess chasing each other high. You felt the twitch of his cock and you knew it wouldn’t take long, so you tried to hold on to your high, just waiting for the moment he let his seeds fill you up.
                His thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside of you as you felt his seeds being spilled inside of you, finally allowing your body to relax as he moved a few more time, getting both of you out of your high. His left hand left your wrists, staying beside them on the arm rest, his right hand went up to the back rest as he let go on top of you, a warm and heavy blanked on top of you as your hands found the nap of his neck and his shoulder blade, light caresses there as both your breathings started to stabilize.
                “God, you are so perfect,” his eyes lifted from your neck, your hands cupping his face as he leaned in your touch, right hand on the cushion under you as the left sustained his body on the arm rest, “so perfect for me, I love you, I love you do fucking much.”
                This time, the kiss was tender, contained, sweet. Your hands playing with his hair as you pulled him in, feeling his cock twitching inside, making you clench and involuntarily move your hips making him groan against your lips, a giggle left your lips as he pressed your foreheads together.
                “C’mon baby, you started it!”
                “You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?”
                “And you love that,” you smirked kissing him again before opening your eyes, finding his glossy eyes staring back, “I love you so much Hyunie.”
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©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
759 notes · View notes
jiniret-writings · 7 months
Text
Warm Blankets Pt. 2
Genre: angst, fluff
Pairing: Platonic!ot8 x 9th member!reader
Warnings: self-doubt, feelings of worthlessness
The actions of the members in this story do not represent how they are in real life. This is all fictional and should not be taken seriously.
Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3
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After buying snacks (and your favorite drink because crying really does numbers on your hydration), you headed back to your dorm and the minute you opened the door, you were met with quite the scene. The entire place looked like a scene from Alice in Wonderland: chaos in the kitchen, chaos in the living room, and something sounded like it crashed in the bathroom, but over it all, the dorm smelled delicious.
When you two walked deeper into the dorm, Minho was the first to look up from what looked like beating eggs. "Hungry?" he asked, pouring the egg mixture onto the pan. Truth was, you were starving. You'd skipped breakfast that day because of an early vocal lesson. Your stomach rumbled low enough for Hyunjin to hear who laughed lightly.
"I think we both are," he said, nudging you in more. Then, like a switch flipped, Hyunjin whined, "Hyuuuuuung! When will it be readyyyyy?" He flopped onto the island seat and laid his head on the counter, watching Minho cook. Minho glared at his younger member, picking up the spatula.
"When you're done cooking in the air fryer," he said in a monotone voice, flashing a Cheshire smile before dropping it and going back to the eggs. You laughed at them, sitting next to Hyunjin and across from Felix. Chan's words still circled your head.
It felt heavy, your head and your heart burdened with the hit of his words and the weight of your thoughts. It had been five years since Stray Kids debuted, yet the whispers never stopped. Comments circled online every month or so about whether you really fit into the group:
I don't know, it's just that the group might thrive more if it weren't for them.
Have you seen the new talker? See how they're off to the side most of the time? They're definitely going to leave the group soon.
I trust Chan and all but I don't know if he was right about them.
It was normal to get hate as an idol but maybe, just maybe, they were right? Hyunjin had reassured you that you were wanted and he was just saying whatever came to mind in his stressed state but, but maybe there were some truth to his words.
As thoughts raced through your head, you stared blankly at the counter. The boys around you looked at you worriedly, giving Hyunjin a look with one question: what happened? He hadn't told them why you had a bad day or what was wrong, but they still rallied to give you warmth and comfort. But you were worrying them. They just wanted the best for you and to do whatever it took to cheer you up.
Wanting to pull you from your thoughts as soon as possible, Hyunjin texted them the short version:
Chan-hyung said he shouldn't have fought for them to be in the group. 2RACHA are on placating duty.
With that sent, Hyunjin put his arm around you to not scare you, but the second you snapped out of your personal trance, Felix ran at you and tackled you to the ground. The little attack came as a surprise to everyone around, leaving them all frozen. The only sound being Felix's "lixie" sounds.
You were shocked as well, arms coming around the slightly older boy on instinct, but eyes still wide. "Felix?!? What was that?!?"
"I love you," he said, digging his face into your neck, causing you to hold in slight laughter because of how much it tickled.
"I love you too but what's this?" you asked, gesturing to the fact that the two of you were still on the floor. At that, he looked down at you, small pout forming.
"My love, y/n/n. Accept it," he said, leaving no room to argue. And in a flash, he stood up, pulling you up with him, and pointed to the pan he was working on with a big smile. "Look! I made brownies, cookies, and a cheesecake! Help me decorate?"
You wanted to refuse, to slip away to your bedroom to lie down and think--no matter how much of a bad idea that was--but the way he was looking at you like you were the sun, how could you not agree? Nodding your head, you walked behind the counter to where Felix was just starting to put on a final layer of frosting on the chilled cake. At that moment, Jeongin and Seungmin strolled. Seungmin sat in the seat you left and Jeongin came up next to you, putting an arm on your shoulder.
"I wanna help too! How do you want to decorate it?" he asked, pointing the question at you. You thought about it and your mind drifted to a movie you had watched recently.
"Lets do it Alice in Wonderland themed?" you asked, unsure if it was a bad idea. The voices around you did well ot drown out your thoughts but they'd pop up every now and again with a new sort of vigor. But with no hesitation, Jeongin just smiled and nodded. Felix brought out red and black food coloring, and started mixing it into different bowls of frosting. At that moment, Minho walked to you with a pair of chopsticks holding a piece of meat. He just brought it to your face and you opened your mouth without a second thought. It was like second nature: if one of your members was feeding you then it must be good.
Your members
The thought brought a feeling of warmth in your chest. Suddenly, tears filled your eyes. You looked away, trying to get them back under control. You shook away the ones that came up, but the warm tightness in your chest refused to let go. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and once inside, sat on the edge of the bath tub, letting the tears flow.
My members, you thought, letting the tears flow freely.
Back at the kitchen, everyone looked at each other, more worried than before.
"How bad?" Seungmin asked, turning fully to face Hyunjin. He just shook his head, remembering the fight he walked in on.
"Really bad. He was yelling and they were yelling and he suddenly just yelled it out. I grabbed them and took them out right after," he said, looking at all the boys. They shook their head, knowing what it was like when they poked the too-still bear.
"How is he?" Jeongin asked, knowing how this went. Chan cared about all of you, more than he could put into words. Jeongin knew it would only be a matter of time until the eldest realized what he said and started spiraling himself.
"I don't know. The others haven't texted but they're probably just keeping him occupied with work like he wants to be."
Seungmin looked towards the bathroom door, then to the pile of blankets laid out on the living room floor. The table in front of the TV had a cute pink table cloth over it so they could bring all the food out there to eat and watch your favorite show and movies. "Is the food almost done?" he asked, looking at Minho. He nodded and took the lid off of a nearby pot, giving it a final stir.
"Its all done. Just need to plate it and bring it to the table," he said. Jeongin took out the plates from the cabinet behind him and spread them out to make plating easier. Minho thanked the youngest by ruffling his hair and got to plating. Felix and Hyunjin in the meantime were trying to finish up the cake. Felix had just finished doing a slightly lopsided, but still made with love, checkerboard pattern and now Hyunjin was...it was hard to tell if that was Alice or the Cheshire cat, but either way, it was very "Wonderland".
When you walked out of the bathroom, having checked your eyes one last time to make sure they weren't red, you walked straight into Seungmin's back. When he turned around, he just smiled and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the mess of blankets.
"What movie should we watch first?" he asked, sitting you down front and center. The boys were each bringing out plates of delicious food and your stomach growled again, much louder this time. You blushed slightly, looking down. Seungmin just laughed and handed you the remote.
"What type of movie?" you asked Seungmin.
"Whatever you want. We're happy with anything," he shrugged, leaning back against one of the pillow piles. With the food finally set, Minho sat behind you, patting your head lightly. You leaned into his hands, which then started massaging your head. The other boys came around too, Felix sitting on your other side and Jeongin and Hyunjin sitting on either side of Minho on the couch.
Felix grabbed one of the blankets from behind you and draped it across your back so it was hugging you. He then started passing around the plates of food to everyone as you finalized a movie.
With everyone snuggled in, you watched the movie and ate happily, laughing with your members as they recreated scenes, repeated funny lines, and made comments throughout the entire movie. Finishing your food, you put the plate back on the table, passing Minho’s and Jeongin’s plates onto the table as well, before putting your head on Felix’s shoulder and snuggling close.
Felix smiled down at you, grabbing a duck plushie and putting him gently into your arms. You looked from the stuffed duck to Felix and back to the duck. You smiled at it and gave it a squeeze.
You suddenly felt a small pressure on your hand and turned to see Seungmin had scooted closer to you and put his hand on top of yours. He gave your hand a squeeze and gave you a small smile before turning back to the TV.
Now feeling someone pat your head, you looked up and saw Minho patting it softly. Next to him, Jeongin was looking through a bag of clips you hadn't seen before and was picking out all the clips in your favorite color. You looked forward again and the tears were building up again. You held them back as much as you could when suddenly, Hyunjin huffed from above.
Before you could ask what happened, the tall boy made his way in font of you, Seungmin, and Felix and just flopped on all three of you. You all groaned at the sudden weight, moving every way to avoid getting his by his arms and legs as he found a position that wasn't extremely uncomfortable. Once settled, he looked at you with a cheeky smile, that then turned into a soft one. He brought his hands to your face and wiped the few tears that had escaped. He didn't say anything further, just patting your cheek and turning back.
Everything was calm now, the second movie now playing. You felt warm, both outside and inside. You always believed actions spoke louder than words, and the way the members all cared for you and spent time with you, how could you not feel welcomed? This was your family. Now, this was part of your family. You still had three members that you know care for you too.
Chan's words still hurt and you weren't just going to blindly forgive him, but he was still part of this big and crazy family you found when you found them years ago.
"We're never letting you go, I hope you know that," Seungmin muttered next to you, now holding your arm. Felix and Jeongin nodded, Felix placing a small kiss on your wet cheek.
"Never. It doesn't matter what people online say or what's said in the heat of an argument. We're never letting go," Jeongin said, squeezing your shoulder for good measure.
"The big bad wolf was extra grouchy today, which means everything out of his mouth was a big bad lie," Minho said, kissing the top of your head.
"If he's the big bad wolf, who is little red riding hood?" Hyunjin asked, turning his entire body--eliciting a groan from you, Felix, and Seungmin--and looking at Minho.
Without missing a beat, he looked at Hyunjin and said, "You are, you're going to get eaten soon."
"Do I taste good?"
"Go into the kitchen and find out," Minho said, standing up and going to grab Hyunjin, but he was quick. He got off of you three and ran to the kitchen, and he and Minho had a mini chase around the kitchen island. You laughed at their chase, moved by the kind words and the usual shenanigans of the members.
Jeongin came down in front of you and laid his head on your lap, looking up. "You're a important part of our group, y/n/n. We all love you here." You smiled at the youngest and wiped the last tears before they could escape. The lull of the TV, the comforting sounds of chaos from the kitchen, and the warmth from the members around you made you feel safe, and stopping yourself from fighting it off, you fell into a comfortable sleep, the negative thoughts nowhere to be found.
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Here's the second part! I am genuinely so thankful for everyone who has read and liked part 1. I didn't even think it would get as much attention as it did! I finished part 2 early so I figured I would upload it a bit early!
I'm in the process of writing part 3, but I hope to get it done soon! Part 3 will have a happy ending, so I hope you enjoy that when it comes out as well! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!
-Jini
Divider made by: @cafekitsune
Taglist: @neyangi
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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻
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Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.
It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.
A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.
He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...
Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.
If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.
"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"
"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.
"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.
"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"
Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?
Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.
"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.
Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.
Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...
"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."
He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.
At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.
Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.
"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.
"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.
"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.
"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."
"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.
"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."
"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.
"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"
He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."
"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."
The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."
"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.
"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."
"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.
"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.
"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.
"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"
Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.
They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.
"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.
"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."
"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.
"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"
The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.
Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.
Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.
That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.
"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?
"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.
Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.
With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.
Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.
That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.
She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.
"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"
"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.
How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?
He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...
...
Perhaps... She should stay with Al...
He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...
Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.
In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.
As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.
Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.
"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."
Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.
"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"
Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."
"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."
Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.
What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?
Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.
Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.
Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.
She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.
"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."
She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."
"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."
"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"
"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."
"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."
"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."
"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.
"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.
"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."
"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"
"Of course I do. What's that question?"
With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."
"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"
"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."
"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.
"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.
"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.
"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.
"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."
Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."
"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.
"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"
Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"
"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."
"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."
Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"
"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."
"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.
"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.
𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.
His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.
𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.
A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.
𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.
Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.
𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.
But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.
♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡
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