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neopuppy · 2 years

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Saturday Drip (M)

Preview: “Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Pairing: alpha NCT Dream 00line x female omega reader

Word Count: 15k+

Genre: a/b/o AU, broke college boys, pure and utter filth, cnc(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.), pwp, dom alphas, one shot(do not ask for a pt2😾)

Smut Warning: rough sex, breeding, knotting, rough oral(m/f), double penetration(both), choking, spit, squirting, praise/degradation, big mean alphas, camera use, manhandling, mind break, wet & messy etc

Playlist: Saturday Drip/NCT Dream, Big Ole Freak/Megan The Stallion, Super Freaky Girl/Nicki Minaj, Hi, I’m A Slut/Lil Mariko, Cyber Sex/Doja Cat, Sexxx Dreams/Lady Gaga

It’s hot, it’s way too hot. Sweats already begun to pool under Jeno’s back, limbs gone heavy stuck to his bed. It’s useless trying to get off when all he can focus on is the lack of cool air blowing out of the vent. Everything feels dry and musty around him making it impossible to even breathe peacefully.

The AC unit just had to break last night, again. Only an hour after he’d just rushed home from his shift at the gym. Opting to skip showering in the locker rooms after clocking out when his phone pinged with a new notification.

‘Riding an inflatable sybian, how long can I last?’

“Fuck.” Jeno mumbles to himself, quickly grabbing his belongings. He’d just rinse off real fast once he gets home. It’s gonna be a long night anyway. Not in the way he’d imagined with his palm wrapped around his cock, edging himself for hours on end in front of a computer screen.

It’s not as if he has a paper due on Monday, prioritizing his favorite Omega fucking a sex machine over his grades without question or worry. He paid for a monthly subscription for good reason. It’s not like it’s his goal in life was to be a nutritionist anyway. Most of his time in class was spent on daydreaming of how he could just fuck his way to success and fortune instead.

Not that this had anything to do with the amount of porn acquiring his desktop, or the hours he wasted away watching obscene videos. If only his essay was about how to properly eat ass.

“Hey.” Jaemin greets him upon entering. Standing in front of the open freezer door with sweat trickling down his bobbing throat.

“Dude what the fuck? It’s disgusting in here.” Jeno can’t stand the heat. Having to psyche himself out to believe he didn’t just stand too close to multiple bodies in a hot subway cart. Ignoring hot breath reaching his neck as he stood taller than those around him making his journey home all the more uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” closing the freezer door, Jaemin lays his torso on the kitchen counter sluggishly. “Pretty sure the air conditioning broke, again. I called up Mark to let him know. He said no one can come fix it until Monday.”

“Last time he said that, no one came for three weeks!” Jeno exclaims, ripping open the fridge for a frozen water bottle to rub on his sweltering skin. “Jaem, I can’t live like this! It’s over 100 degrees outside.”

“I know, trust me. I’ll keep badgering him, alright?” Jaemin sighs. Already drained of energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

“I have to get going, you can use my fan for now.” Jaemin offers, using paper towels to dab away sweat before heading out. Knowing he’ll be dripping in it with a heavy bag of camera equipment on his back.

“Where are you going?” Jeno’s already removing his clothes. Jamein mumbling for him to not plaster his wet naked ass to their couch.

“I got a gig finally, I should be back late.” Hauling on his equipment he waves a ‘later’ before stepping out. Head tilting up curiously as he hears shouting.

“Answer me you fucking piece of shit!!”

“Dude what happened to you? Why are you drenched?” Jaemin pauses mid-walk. Adjusting the camera gear weighing on his shoulders as he spots Renjun on the phone outside of his apartment.

“A pipe busted above my room! There’s a huge leak in my closet!” Renjun’s frantic, arm waving around behind him as he explains. “And our fucking AC isn’t working! Again!”

“Oh my God, I’d tell you to crash at mine but ours isn’t working either!” Jaemin sighs, shaking his head. “We need to move out of this shit hole.”

“Tell me about it!” Renjun groans, slamming a thumb down on his phone to hang up. “Haechan’s gonna be so pissed off when he gets home. He’s been working overtime today cause we’re short on rent again.”

“We pay way too much to live in this crap, just because it’s a mile away from SNU.” Jaemin says with a roll of his eyes. “So much for college being the best years of our lives.”

“That’s high school,” Renjun corrects, waving him off. “I have to check on the leak. Catch you later man.”

Nodding to his friend Jaemin continues toward the exit. Passing the broken elevator that Mark claimed would get fixed 5 months ago, never once spotting a maintenance person in sight.

Out of desperation he ended up searching for freelance photographer jobs. Weddings required too much experience, editorials asking for examples of work and complete portfolios.

It felt hopeless until he landed on an ad seeking someone with less experience. Specifically stating they wouldn’t mind an intern level type who is still in the process of learning. Wishing for more ‘gritty’ and ‘real’ photography that can pass off as homemade.

‘Must be comfortable with full nudity and sex acts. You will be shooting and filming content for my xxx website. 21+ with ID proof and examples of your work. Contact me directly via email to set up a time.’

Jaemin decided to neglect mentioning that part to his roommate. It was either this or he’d be short on rent like his next door neighbors’ current struggle. Knowing Jeno he’d hear ‘pornographic content’ and ask to tag along as his assistant for the day. Casually joking about how he could fuck better than the Alphas in video links shared through their group chats.

‘I guess if I’m ever desperate enough for money I’d do it. My dicks big enough.’

Jaemin always thought his friend was too brash for saying such ridiculous things nonchalantly.

He could never have anticipated reaching that level of desperation himself mere hours later.

He’s not sure what to think as he stands in your bedroom. Struggling to process a thought while you continue explaining your field of work, tossing different sets of colorful lingerie onto a king-size bed decorated like something straight out of a home decor magazine.

“We don’t have to take the photos in my room, I’m open to whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yeah yeah..” he nods, taking in the lacey sheer frilly garments splayed out before him. Glancing between the heavy sweats and hoodie you have pulled on covering any bit of scandalous flesh.

Of course you’re covered up, with cool icy air filling the room, silently blasting from a vent above. The sweat pouring off his skin immediately evaporated after being welcomed inside. “What type of theme did you want to stick with?”

“Hmm,” swinging a stringy pair of panties around your index finger, your head tilts thoughtfully. “Summer? I guess baby oil, suns out buns out type of vibe.”

Jaemin clears his throat, twisting his eyebrows up asking if he can take a look through your drawers. “Do you have ice cream by chance?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Flavor?”

“Strawberry popsicles, I think I have some Vanilla Bean too. Are you hungry?”

Turning back to face you, he holds up a two piece micro white bikini. “I have an idea, I’m thinking out on the balcony would be best.”

Jaemin’s very professional considering the lack of experience on his resume. He asks permission before touching anything, double checks that you’re comfortable with any of his suggestions. For an Alpha, he’s kept cool and collected, even as you start to disrobe. The bathing suit he handpicked doing little to nothing to subside less than pure thoughts from unraveling. He gulps, forcing himself to focus on pretending to set the camera up.

Suddenly he was beginning to understand why Jeno’s been dropping absurd amounts of money to jerk off to your content.

“Is this okay?”

His eyes drag up slowly, from your manicured white painted toenails, up the expanse of glistening oiled up skin leading to your pressed together thighs where a miniature triangle shape conceals nothing in-between.

“Uhh..” he salivates, lapping at the roof of his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“Jaemin?” Your tone changes from one of concern to amusement, continuing to spritz your hair with water for a wet summer look.

“You look great.” He nods rapidly, quickly averting his attention to your chest jiggling beneath two tied together triangles with each movement you make. “Sorry, was just a little surprised.”

“You must be mated?”

Jaemin blinks, taken aback by your forwardness, shaking his head before words can exit his dry tongue. “Not at all, why would you think that?”

“Oh, you’re well-mannered, for an Alpha.” You note, shrugging and gesturing to the deck area. “How should I pose?”

“Let’s get some close-up shots first.” Jaemin directs you to catch sunlight draping streams of golden rays across your face. Half shadowed and lit up by the natural light. Instructing you to slowly unwrap one popsicle and take your time to suck on it.

“I think you’ll really like these.” The click click of his camera continues, zooming in to capture your lips pouting around sugary red liquid dripping down under the heat of your mouth paired with hot weather. “Let it spill.”

Growing confident with his position, Jaemin motions for you to hold the popsicle above your parted lips, allowing the treat to pour down your throat. The majority of it missing, staining white lycra fabric stretched over your breasts.

“You’re getting hot right?” He switches to record, nodding to the lounge chair for you to sit on. “Cooling off with a popsicle?”

“Mhmm”

Jaemin stays silent, capturing the wet droplets of red passing down your abdomen to land between your thighs. He lets you pose lewdly, tracing the popsicle down to melt against your bikini bottoms, lighting up hot where your cores melted the fabric to you like a second skin.

“I’m so hot, Alpha.” Hazy eyes and a tempting tone mesmerize the man behind the camera, sinking down to squat and zoom in on slick gushing out onto your spread inner thighs. “Need you to cool me off.”

You rub the popsicle up and down, pushing against the crease that's melted into your dripping wet slit. The red dye used in the treat leaves a stain of sweetness on your bottoms. The white bleeding out into a pink the more it melts, left to wither down to nothing but a wooden stick with a phrase that reads “Today is your lucky day!” hidden under the frozen liquid that’s altered your swimsuit.

Jaemin clenches his teeth to contain a muffled curse. Twitching inside the confinement of his jeans as you arch up higher, pushing your chest up. Round mounds call to his tongue, sticky and wet from oils and sweat.

“Hmm, no I was thinking more like..” The Alpha seems more heated now, possibly from the sweltering heat burning down on your backs. Possibly from the close proximity or the obscene positions you’ve fallen into under his command. He scoops two digits into the tub of melted Vanilla ice cream, lifting them to your lips to lap at. Camera shutters sound as your tongue swirls, sucking some of the sweetness while the rest trickles out pouring down your chin to your exposed chest.

“That’s good,” he whispers, scooping more to dribble down your cheeks and breasts. Watery white cream creates a more lewd image, paired with heavy eyelids shielding your seductive gaze.

“Tell me what to do, Alpha.”

“Turn around.” He instructs, nodding in approval when you get onto all fours and crane your neck for more direction. You’re a natural, he thinks, propped with your ass up at a perfect angle. The sun hitting just right to define the dip in your back and heady gaze staring back at him.

Jaemin can’t believe it when his free hand reaches for the tub of ice cream, pouring the remnants down to land in globs on your buttcheeks. The indecency in front of him feels like a punch to his gut, having to snap photos of the cream trickling down the back of your thighs. The sight before him more pornographic and delicious than he can fully process.

He croaks for you to spread, losing his cool demeanor as your knees slide further apart, playing with the thin strings on your hips. The flossy material cuts between the meat adorning your hips and backside, squishing the shiny delicacy displayed.

“Alpha..” you breathe, falling to your side to give him a full visual of your body lines. Dips and curves shadowed like art with sun rays sliding across your skin.

Jaemin debates with himself, thoughts spiraling that you could just be acting, or you could actually be calling for him to do something. To make the first move, to touch you where you begin to part and show off glistening slick dripping down to the backs of your thighs.

“You’re doing really good.” He swallows, mercilessly throbbing inside of his boxers. “How far are you—..”

He drawls off, following the pathway your digits make between your covered folds. Chest rising and falling rapidly as more sweat sprinkles down from the back of his neck to pool at the dips on his lower back.

“Alpha.”

Jaemin thinks he’s imagining your saccharine vocals whining for him, each letter passing through his ears like dry cotton. Snapping out of it as the heel of your foot nudges his knee, trailing up to rest your toes just where his pants have begun to tent out.

“Uhhh..”

“Alpha, I’m so hot.” You tease, sucking sticky ice cream residue off your fingers. “Won’t you cool me down?”

He wonders what his breaking point will be, fingers shaking around his camera more and more with each photo snapped.

“We’re losing light.” He mutters to save his ass, biting at the back of his tongue to prevent himself from getting fired by unleashing the amount of impure thoughts racing through his mind.

“Do you need a ride home?” Sitting up, your demeanor swaps in an instance, returning to the relaxed mood you had prior to the shoot.

Jaemin’s breath lodges, head shaking as he swiftly adjusts his shirt to hang lower before his crotch before standing up. “All good, no worries.”

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, sporting an expression of disgust while swiping a towel up and down your arms. “Are you sure? I can call you a cab.”

Jaemin refuses to meet your gaze, too embarrassed with his cheeks lit aflame by heat and mortification. He waves breezily, beginning to pack up his belongings. “No worries, I don’t live too far.”

He’s lying, and dreading the long journey back home that will drain his the minimal energy he has left with this humid heat.

“Here, I’ll grab you some water bottles to take for the trip.”

He keeps calm, situating his fully hardened length beneath the hem of his jeans when you turn away. Covering that he’d begin editing tonight and send you the final products as soon as possible.

“Get home safe.” You smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “If any Omega catches you sporting wood on the subway, they’ll have you arrested for being such a pervert.”

Jaemin’s cheeks burn bright red with his hand stilling in the air to wave goodbye. A girlish laugh follows as you wave him goodbye and close your door to shower off the remnants of sweet ice cream sticking to your skin. The image of big round eyes full of lust paint the back of your mind, memorizing thick fingers smearing a treat on your chin.

“These turned out great.”

Jaemin’s back, pep talking himself up on the way over to your place to stay cool. Money’s on the line here.

“I really like your style.” You say, browsing through the photos Jaemin took of you yesterday. Too distracted to give you his full attention as he once again admires your absurdly large fully furnished penthouse.

“You even have a PS5..” he mumbles under his breath. Tugging tufts of thick black hair through his fingers trying to calculate just how small his shared apartment is in comparison.

“Oh yeah, a subscriber sent me that,” you wave off like it’s not big deal. Choosing the best shots to use for a new set only your top tier fans would be able to immediately view.

Jaemin can feel his heart drop down to his gut, nearly losing his footing. “You didn’t even have to pay for that?! There’s no way you can afford all of this from just doing Omega fans!”

Snickering, you wink at him, nodding to a stack of packages waiting to be delivered. “Of course not, merch is where the real money comes from.”

“Merch?? Wha—“

“Oh you know, worn underwear, bottles of slick, a mold of my pus—“

“WHAT?” Jaemin has to laugh, pushing hair completely away from his forehead as the skin wrinkles down the middle. In disbelief that Alphas could really be this desperate. As if his best friend isn’t one of the many dropping money every month just to ruin and discard another innocent tube sock.

“It’s a lucrative career, believe it or not.”

“Respectfully, like, ballpark..”

“$90-100k every month.” You inform him eagerly. “Already planned my early retirement.”

“A MONTH?” Jaemin sits back landing against one of the stools lined up by your kitchen island. Hearing those numbers made his head spin, shocked enough to wonder how Alphas could be this stupid. How his own best friend is one of them. “How much do your highest patreons get charged monthly?”

“Highest tier is $100, you catch more bears with honey.”

Jaemin’s eyes bulge, gripping onto the counter ledge, seething between his teeth. “Jeno.”

“Jeno?”

He grunts, gripping hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “My friend, he’s one of your subscribers.”

“Hmm..is he cute???” You ask, amused by the Alpha in front of you losing his professional composure.

“Uh,” Jaemin snaps, shaking his head, trying to calculate how much money his roommate has dropped on your website for the last two years. “God we could have a better A/C unit..”

Looking up at your lost stare, he shakes his head again, waving a hand and standing up. “Yeah, I guess he’s cute, for a freaking idiot.”

“Maybe you can bring him over next time.” You say, cocking a brow suggestively.

Jaemin pauses, reaching to pack up his camera bag. “Next time?”

“See,” moving closer, you take a hold of his wrist. “My fans, they have requests.. but it’s been hard to find attractive young Alphas I can trust.”

“What type of requests?” Jaemin sits back down, crossing his arms. The white short sleeve t-shirt he’s wearing struggles to contain his biceps. Growing stronger and thicker after hauling around heavy camera equipment everyday.

“I have a high roller, ironically a CEO of a well known heat suppressant company.” You start to explain, snorting at the job title. “He’s been begging for months to make this specific content during my heat.”

“Right, and what exactly is he asking for?”

“Just your run of the mill Alpha gangbang.” You say nonchalantly, making the Alpha sat before you splutter.

“What?!?”

“He’s offered to pay $100,000.” You nod. Jaemin has to gulp, head spinning again in disbelief that anyone could be that horny.

“That’s insane.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Sighing, Jaemin shrugs contemplating if anyone would pay for naked photos of him in obscene positions. “My roommate would probably film that with you for free.”

“I’d pay you, of course..” you say, tilting your head curiously to observe his next reaction. Met with a pair of wide shocked eyes, he babbles, laughing awkwardly.

“Me?!” Jaemin’s laugh grows in pitch, slowly losing volume the more he thinks about it. “..how much?”

“How much do you want? I’m willing to negotiate.”

“That’s..” he huffs, blinking in disbelief. “You’re joking right? Just messing around with me?”

“Not at all, Alpha,” with a sneaking grin, you click the camera next to him to turn on. Shifting closer once the red light brightens up, the lense moves around letting out sounds as it focuses on your figures. “We can start slow..”

Jaemin gulps, feeling the proximity between your lower regions grow sparse. Returning to grip onto the ledge of the island at his side where the camera sits capturing just enough of your lips and chests. Inching closer together as you straddle his lap and drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

He gulps to calm the tremor running through his throat, unused to an Omega making the first move. “Me? Y-you want to film content with me??”

“Depends,” you settle onto his lap with a smirk. Easing closer until your crotch presses directly where he’s began to grow. “How much?”

Jaemin shivers, choking on a trail of spit lodged at the back of his mouth. You had already paid him more than enough for some amateur photos taken around your place with little to no effort from himself.

But the prospect of thousands of dollars entering his bank account from only sleeping with a very attractive Omega is more than enough to entice him. Nodding, he mumbles a number without confidence. Reminding himself in the back of his mind that a few thousand dollars can’t be more than mere chump change to you.

“Sounds good.”

Jaemin grabs onto your hips when you agree to the amount. Canting upward to bounce you against the bulge pushing through the seam of his jeans.

Jeno was going to kill him.

“Jeno?” Jaemin steps inside of his boiling hot apartment, kicking off his shoes to a pile with his roommates. The low brrr from his fan sounds, coming from the other Alphas bedroom. “He seriously better not have left that on, running up the damn electric bill as if we need that.”

Jaemin doesn’t expect to find his friend hunched over at his computer, headphones hanging on his neck with wide eyes blaring at the screen before him. “Oh, you’re home.”

“Traitor!” Jeno snaps, lunging up at his roommate, toppling over his gaming chair in the process.

“Jeno! What the fuck! Get off of me!” Jaemin scrambles, his grip slipping off the other Alphas soaked skin. He grunts, pressing his knee into the others firm abdominal muscles to keep him in place.

“You fucked my favorite Omega?!”

“Oh my god! She uploaded it already??” Jaemin’s speechless, caught off guard by the news momentarily enough to receive a slap across his face.

“I can’t believe you!”

“We didn’t fuck! Get off of me!”

“No!” Jeno slaps him again, tussling back and forth on the ground until Jaemin manages to get the upper hand and lock him in place with his bicep lodged against his neck.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get to meet her.”

Jeno’s head lifts, ears perking up like a puppy hearing a can of food begin to open. “What?!”

“Are you going to calm down now, pup?” Jaemin sneers, pushing off using the back of his hand to wipe away sweat that's pouring from his forehead.

Jeno groans, pushing to stand back up, he motions to the screen where a video showing the side of his roommate’s face has been paused. “How did this happen!”

“She hired me to photograph her.” Jaemin begins to explain, rubbing at his sweaty nape. “I don’t know, okay? But..”

His gaze skirts between Jeno and the screen. “Did you watch it already?”

“I was about to! Until I saw your fucking giant teeth show up, was like a nightmare. I had to stop the video before it could get any worse.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. Could you play it? I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I probably look so stupid..”

Jeno clicks his tongue annoyed, setting his chair back into place to get comfortable. “Unfortunately you don’t. Your dick looks huge too.”

Jaemin smirks, flicking the shell of Jeno’s ear. “Thought you didn’t watch it, liar.”

“I can’t believe this!” Jeno exclaims, clicking the video to play again.

“We didn’t even fuck.” Jaemin leans closer with elbows on his knees. “Honestly it felt so fast, I can’t believe I did that.”

Jeno continues to badger his friend with questions, ripping at his hair as the video goes on. The last thing he expected to see was a familiar face when he got the notification of a new upload featuring your Alpha neighbor assisting you through your pre-heat.

“God, she’s so hot.” Jeno groans, slamming the back of his head against the cushion, one of his hands sneaking beneath the waistband of his shorts out of Jaemin’s line of sight. Too caught up in the video playing to even notice.

It should feel weird to watch himself, to watch you touching him. To see the nervous way his throat bobs up and down the closer you lean in, bumping the tip of his nose with yours as you whisper too quietly for him to not feel nervous.

‘The Alpha next door stopped by,’ you announce for the viewers, toying with Jaemin’s shirt off screen.

“Pft..” Jeno huffs under his breath, squinting at the way you bat your eyelashes toward Jaemin. Flirting with him by giggling, tapping your nails against his jaw on the way to pinch his chin. Falling into a syrupy pretty octave the more you taunt him by repeating ‘Alpha Alpha Alpha’.

Should’ve been me, he thinks, thumbing at the precum that’s filled up his slit.

Jaemin’s undeserving, he doesn’t even know what you want, how you like it. Jeno eyes the kitchen counter, imagining how fast he would have bent you over, tugging on his length eagerly. The gasp you let out as you grind down on Jaemin repeats loudly in his thoughts.

Jaemin’s squirming, ashamed by how stunned he appears on video, too wanton and helpless for an Alpha who should have been taking more control. He let you play with him like a toy, rolling your hips back onto his lap to gain a full erection prodding into your backside.

‘So big Alpha.’

“Can’t believe she fucked you.”

Jaemin clears his throat, swiping his palm across the puffy bulge forming between his thighs. “We didn’t, yet..”

“You won’t.” Jeno says more brazenly, teeth slicing his bottom lip in an attempt to control his rage from toppling over. “You know how much I like her.”

“You and hundreds of thousands of other Alphas.”

“Whatever. Can’t fucking believe this.” Jeno groans, letting out a long dramatic sigh. “My dicks getting soft from watching this, I don’t think I can forgive you for this one.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, letting out a sound of disgust when his friend wipes off his palm on his thigh. “You’re gonna wanna hear me out, and also owe me for this.”

“I doubt it.”

“She asked about you.”

Jeno’s head snaps to attention at that, just in time to miss Jaemin’s grunts passing from his computer speakers. “What??”

“I mentioned that you’re a fan.” Jaemin cringes at the visual of himself on a big screen reaching climax. His face rolling side to side on your shoulder, panting like some teenager experiencing their first rut. The blush on his cheeks high, making its way up to his earlobes burning red. Cumming without penetration like some horny pup, the number of viewers over 60,000 already after only an hour up.

“And?!?”

Jeno’s excited bounce snaps him out of his humility— reminding him that his roommate would have paid for an opportunity like this.

“She asked if any of my friends would be interested.”

“Oh my God!!” Jeno stands up, jumping in place as if he just received the best news ever— in his case, he probably just did. “Oh my God! No! You don’t understand!!”

The dark haired Alpha begins to pace, gathering tufts of hair with blown out pupils. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long! I did this! This is happening because of me!”

Jaemin sports a bored look, listening to his roommate ramble on about how he always knew he’d end up fucking you, he just didn’t know how or when, until now.

“That’s great dude, I guess. I’ll text her, but please do not mention that you’ll be more than happy to do this for free. We need the mo—“

Knocks boom from the entrance distracting the two from continuing their conversation.

“Hey! Open up! This tub of ice is heavy!”

“It’s Haechan.” Jeno announces, unlocking the front door to the miserable expressions his neighbors dawn. “Sup?”

“Let us use your fan? We offer bags of ice.”

They end up huddled seated on the floor complaining about how badly they all need to figure out how to either make more money, or move out.

“Maybe the four of us could split a mortgage for a house.” Renjun mewls over rubbing his chin. “A house with central air ideally.”

Jaemin eyes the three Alphas surrounding him, a melancholic desperation to enjoy their short days of summer left drags their lips down, frowns paired with desperation to do anything to better their situations.

It’s almost too perfect.

Jeno’s hunched over, sharp eyebrows never loosening up, licking at the corners of his mouth annoyed.

“Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Haechan pours another bag of ice into the bucket they’ve plotted before a fan, huddled together too close for comfort, occasionally brushing sticky skin against sticky skin. The cool breeze only enough to prevent them from overheating while still secreting sweat as they hold up personal fans to their faces and suck on half-melted Icee slushies.

“Content?” He raises a messy eyebrow, speaking into the spinning fan to alter his voice. “Doesn’t she do porn?”

“Jeno’s a big fan, must be good.” Renjun adds.

“Jeno is a horny dog,” Jaemin scoffs, ignoring the upset gasp his best friend releases. “I mean, I understand why he pays.”

“I pay and somehow you are the one getting a handjob..” Jeno mutters, more than annoyed still. Despite his anger, he still watched the video you posted with Jaemin a few more times. “She only fucks Alphas with notoriously big dicks. Should have been me.”

“Mine’s bigger than yours anyway.” Jaemin laughs, licking away sweat from his upper lip. “Listen, I know you guys are all as strapped for cash as I am.”

“Cash? Oh, I’m listening.” Haechan interrupts, tugging on the ring of his collar that’s dampened nastily with sweat.

“When you say notoriously big..” Renjun drawls, leaning back against a wall, pushing his hand-held fan beneath his shirt. “How big is big?”

“Bigger than you shrimp shit.” Jeno jeers, clicking his tongue arrogantly. “I seriously need to quit this college shit, I could make bank doing Alpha fans.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, too drained by the heat to put up a fight. “You’re a baboon.”

“Whatever.” Jeno ignores his name calling with a dreamy look in his eyes. “The first time I stumbled into one of her streams, she was testing out how fat of a knot she could take.”

Haechan’s head lifts suddenly more intrigued by this topic. “…..well?”

“I’ve never seen an Omega take a knot like her, ever.” He confirms, boasting about how your streams are always at the top of the Omega fans charts. “The coins never stop pouring in when she goes live. She’s always in the top 0.1% on Omega fans, I like to think my monthly subscription helps.”

“This is bullshit.” Jaemin cuts him off. “Look, I made enough in two days to cover 3 months of rent. If we help her out I think.. we could leave this shithole complex. I’m tired of these excuses for why maintenance can’t fix our ancient A/C units.”

“I’d do it for free.” Jeno says, earning a smack to the back of his head from Renjun.

“That’s why you are a baboon.”

“I’m in.” Haechan nods. “I can’t survive another summer like this, I can’t even do another week of this.”

“I mean..” Renjun grimaces. “Like, full nude? My whole dick out?”

Jaemin snaps his fingers for Jeno to whip out his phone, the four proceeding to watch the clip you made with the Alpha as their jaws hang to the floor.

“Oh, I’m so in.”

Jeno’s been running around like a puppy full of life, hopping into the air kicking his feet together letting out high pitched squeals.

“I even shaved my sack for this!” He exclaims, gripping onto Jaemin’s shoulders on their trek out of the subway station.

“Were we supposed to do that?” Haechan asks, taking a look at his worn down raggedy clothing. “I thought the idea was supposed to be.. we’re broke college guys.”

“That is the idea.” Jaemin answers, directing his group of friends into an upscale neighborhood decorated with lively tall trees and blooming gardens. “It’s all an act, we’re supposed to be her ‘neighbors’…and she’s this innocent sweet Omega who we take advantage of during her heat.”

Haechan bites back a smile nudging into his side, thoughts running rampant. “That’s hot.”

“No fucking way, is this seriously where she lives?” Renjun’s neck practically breaks from leaning back to take in the giant building towering before them.

“Yup, high-rise penthouse overlooking Seoul. The lifestyle horny idiot Alphas provide.” Jaemin glares at Jeno who beams with the brightest smile engulfing his eyes.

“She deserves all of it, and more.” Letting out a dreamy sigh he follows along to where Jaemin has to check-in at the front concierge to be allowed further inside. The four confirming their identification before passing along to the elevators.

“This is insane, I couldn’t even sleep last night, and when I can’t sleep, I jerk off!” Jeno complains in the lift. “But I didn’t want to waste— you know! So I ended up tossing and turning all night.”

“You’re worse than those kpop fans that follow around idols and trainees.” Renjun accuses, feeling jittery still about stripping down to nothing to hook-up with a stranger for thousands of viewers, maybe even millions. “This is my lowest low, and you’re about to cum in your pants.”

“I think you lowest low was popping your first knot in Science class when we learned about Omega anatomy.” Haechan grins. “You can’t live that down.”

“Shut up!” Renjun whines, the elevator dinging to upon reaching your floor. The three Alphas stare at the opened doors, gulping in unison before Jaemin signals for them to follow his lead.

“I would say don’t be nervous but,” he shakes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m fucking nervous right now.”

“Dude! You can’t be nervous! What about us?!” Haechan bemoans, gesturing to the three hiding behind the blond Alphas broad frame.

“Think about the money.” Renjun nods, reapplying chapstick to his lips that can’t seem to retain enough moisture. “This hallway alone has more square footing than our apartments combined.”

“Think about the pus—!” Jeno starts to holler, stopping in his tracks as the front door they stand before opens up revealing a face that’s become deeply ingrained in his mind. “Holy shit.”

Jaemin’s eyes shut, smiling and lifting a hand to greet you, internally cursing. “That would be your loyal subscriber.”

“Wow,” leaning against the door frame, you take in the new faces in front of you. The three sporting similar expressions with their jaws hung loose, wide-eyed and breathless. “You didn’t mention that they’re all so cute.”

Jaemin grins, motioning to his friends. “This is Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno, or as you know us, miserable sweaty Alphas willing to do a lot for money.”

“How much is a lot?” You ask slyly, purposely dressed down with a pair of loose sweats on and a loose top to play up a relaxed stay-at-home look for the filming.

“I’ll do anything!” Jeno blurts, slapping a palm over his mouth. “I mean.. my limits are very low.”

“Funds too.” Renjun whispers.

“Understood.” Standing straight, you hold up an index finger. “There is one thing, my funders have a common request. Come on in and we’ll see if you guys fit the criteria.”

The criteria: no one under 9 inches.

Haechan’s throat bobs reading over the contract you’ve printed four copies of. Rubbing his nape that feels cold from sitting in a room with blowing cool air. “I have to admit, I’ve never measured..”

“I have!” Jeno licks at his canines cockily, biting off the cap of a pen to spit off to the side. “11 inches long, and thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.”

“Wait wait!” You laugh, pulling out your phone to speed-dial your highest roller. “Need you guys to show me what you’re working with before we can sign off.”

Renjun’s eyes round, sticking halfway out of their sockets. “Like, right now??”

“Now or never.” Pointing the camera to face them, you nod for them to go on.

Jeno’s the first to jump to his feet, already half mass confined in a well fitted pair of black sweats. “I have nothing to lie about.”

True to his word, he pushes his boxers and sweats beneath his upper thigh in one fell swoop. His length falls free slapping onto the cotton fabric underneath , jerking mid-air, the fat pink tip darkening the longer he sits and waits to live out his wildest dreams.

“Very good.” A low deep voice emits from your phone’s speaker. “Bigger than the blond even.”

Jaemin’s head snaps up at that, squinting while sneaking a look to his side with an annoyed pout. “That’s not true!”

“The other two.” Says the voice, clearly coming from a male.

Haechan shares a pleading look with Renjun, moving to stand, waiting for the other to do the same. Huffing out a deep sigh, he hoists himself up sluggishly, tugging on the strings dangling in front of his groin.

“Well..” Haechan shrugs, smiling timidly as he unzips and draws himself out with a stroke at his soft size “I’m a grower..”

Renjun’s cheeks puff out, repeating money money money in his mind as he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his length free.

“They can stay. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself too much.” The Alpha hiding on your phone screen chuckles. “Can’t wait to see what they do with you.”

Hanging up after hearing the approval, you hide a smile behind your hand taking in Renjun up and down. “Cute.”

“Did you just call my dick cute?!” He squawks, frazzled as he tucks himself away.

“You are really cute!” Haechan intervenes, throwing an arm around his roommate's shoulders, whispering ‘money’ with a pointed glare.

“The idea is that I’m in pre-heat,” you motion carelessly, beginning to stretch your limbs where you’re seated. “That’s the idea, but I actually am in pre-heat, so it works out great.”

“Oh, that’s..” Jaemin collects the signed contracts, gnawing on his upper lip. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Shrugging, you wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, I might get a little..”

Jeno’s practically salivating the more you continue to talk, all too familiar with how crazed and desperate for Alpha cock you get during your heats. His fingertips burn from rubbing up and down his thighs like a maniac, slurping at the drool gathering at the sides of his tongue. An overwhelming sensation of dizziness and lust replaces any semblance of sense as he sits across from you.

“Jeno?” Jaemin snaps his fingers, breaking the Alpha from his mesmerized trance. “Come on.”

“What??”

“I have to start setting up, were you not listening?”

“Uhh..” Jeno looks lost, flushed from the tip of his nose down to his pink chewed lips, causing Jaemin to grunt and grab on to the other to drag him out of the room.

“She’s gonna start with Haechan and Renjun first.” He reiterates, smiling to himself. “Because they’re smaller.”

Renjun fumed when you felt the need to mention that, pinching at Haechan’s forearm to control his temper. Humiliation that thousands of strangers would be watching him bare ass already had him regretting agreeing to this, now even more with you mocking his size for not being big enough.

“Should we step out then?” Haechan gestures toward the entrance, smoothing out the wrinkles on his t-shirt nervously. Everything becoming much more real now that he’s seconds away from hooking up with a stranger— not that this would be his first time, but on camera suddenly made things feel much more high-stress and real.

“Yeah, why don’t you guys show up saying your air conditioners not working.” You suggest, turning on the various cameras you have around your apartment for weekly live streams. “Don’t worry about acting really, it’s not that serious.”

Renjun follows after his friend, shifting about anxiously, muttering that he can’t stop the tremors running through his hands.

“We have sex all the time.” Haechan says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Okay, we have had sex. Maybe not a lot. Don’t think too hard, she’s an attractive Omega close to her heat, and I’m here..”

Renjun nods, rapping his knuckles against the door with a deep shaky breath.

“Hey?” You answer, ruffling your hair with a groggy look as if you’ve just woken up.

“Oh! Hey!” Haechan utters, waving awkwardly. “Hope we didn’t wake you! Our air stopped working a bit ago.”

“That’s terrible, it’s so hot out.” You groan, faking a yawn, tugging on the collar of your t-shirt to play up how hot you feel even inside of your chilly quarters. Renjun observes how well you fall into the ditzy cute innocent Omega you must portray on camera for your fans, pouting and whining at the end of each word like a petulant little brat.

“You think we can crash with you while the maintenance team works on it?” Renjun cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against your door frame.

“Ah, it’s kind of..” words stumble out alternating between whiny sounds as you attempt to think up an excuse. “I—….okay..”

Spinning on your heel, you offer them something to drink as they situate in your living room, seated on the couch they’d filled out their contracts at. “Thanks!” Haechan calls out, picking up a remote to scroll through the TV guide for something to watch.

Renjun glances back and forth suspiciously, his nose twitching, falling into character with more ease than he’d envisioned to be able to. “Hey, is it just me or she..”

“Oh, she definitely is.” Haechan says confidently, setting an arm behind his head with a grin pinching at his lips. “Why else do you think she hesitated to let us come in?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

The two share a sneaking look, settling at opposite ends of the couch to leave you with no choice but to sit between them when you show up with a tray of beverages.

“Oh..”

Neither seem interested in your presence, both lazily sprawled against the arm rests with their focus on the tv.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Haechan asks, throwing the remote aside. “Nothing to watch.”

“You guys can play..” you sigh, eyeing the small space you’ve been left with to sit between the two Alphas. Stuffy and cramped as you adjust to seat without trying to touch either of them.

“Nah, Renjun’s a sore loser. He complains way too much because I always win.” Haechan mumbles, holding one of the controllers out for you. “I’m sure you’ll be good.”

“What if I lose?”

The browns coloring Haechan’s iris gleam, speckled by different shades of orange and gold, inching closer until his lips sit centimeters away from yours. “If you lose..”

Renjun licks at his lips behind you, trailing his eyes down your back, becoming curious as to what you have hiding beneath the oversized t-shirt you probably slept in.

Haechan straightens up, blowing out a breath across your mouth. “..if you lose—you’ll sit on my lap the next round.”

“Next round?”

“Yeah,” he leans back, falling into a confident demeanor as he chooses to play as Yoshi. “Winner takes all.”

Princess Peach failed to even end up in the top 5 after the amount of times you swerved and smacked into the race track walls. The two Alphas at your sides hiding their and amused laughter with coughs the more you struggled and grew frustrated, wanting to hurdle the controller at a wall.

Haechan doesn’t say anything as music signals for the next round, spreading open his thighs to make room for you, he nods toward his lap with a silent command.

“I don’t think I can play again.” You say, feigning exhaustion by slumping back into the couch.

Renjun leans over, pinching your chin between two fingers to force your gaze up. “That’s not really fair is it, princess?”

A lazy hand lands around his wrist, pulling his fingers down lower to land on your throat. “I’m too hot.. can’t focus..”

“Come on princess, you know the rules here. You agreed to play, now you have to follow through.”

Haechan’s nose finds the column of your throat, gripping onto your waist to pull you onto his lap. “Stupid Omega letting the big bad wolves inside when her heats about to start.”

“No— no, Haechan, don’t..”

“Shh, you knew what you were doing.” Renjun squeezes your throat, shaking your neck with a tight hold. “Dripping right through your underwear as if we couldn’t smell you from down the hall. Don’t play dumb now, Omega.”

“I c-can’t..”

“Why are you lying, huh?” Haechan asks, pushing your ass down against his crotch. “Besides, when did I ask?”

“Don’t lie pretty, the more you lie, the more this will hurt.” Renjun catches your bottom lip just as Haechan slips his fingers past the top of your sweats, lowering slowly to cup your heat, letting out a grunt on your shoulder when he’s met with slick spilling out past the seat of your panties. Inner thighs coated with a mess of sweet delicious wetness dripping out of your hole like a broken faucet.

“No—no, not there, please..” Your pleading only makes them laugh, Renjun letting out a bitter chuckle as he releases his hardening shaft. Stroking up and down right before your face to give you a clear view of how thick and long he sits at full mass.

“So cute, right?” He taunts, shifting onto his knees on the couch to set his hips near your face. “Little brats like you think you can always get your way.”

Haechan slips in past your underwear, quietly cursing into your nape at the amount of slick dribbling between his digits. In disbelief that you’re this wet already, that they haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re drenching his crotch through your sweats.

“That little act you put on crumbles the second you see Alphas cock baby.” Renjun’s fingers trail up from your throat to your chin, thumb latching onto your bottom lip to pull it down. Drool gathers at the corners, trickling it’s way out down to your jaw to meet his digits that press harder. “Tell Alphas what you need, don’t fucking lie.”

“Renjun, pl-please, don’t be mean.” You gurgle, lapping at his thumb shoving your lip back and forth.

He grins, pushing the pad of his thumb down until you give and let him in, resting against your tongue heavily until you let out a gagging sound and wrap your lips around him.

“All that useless begging, look at you right now.” He sneers, pushing three more fingers into your mouth with ease. “Just like that, so obedient and cute.”

Haechan’s panting, working his hips up in circles against your damp bottom. Relentless with his digits rubbing in a blur over your clit. Nipping and sucking on your throat to quill some of his arousal that shouts throughout his head to rip off your sweats and plant you on his length until you cry out, begging to get fucked.

“Renjun,” coughing around his fingers working in and out of your mouth, you gag again, copious amounts of drool fountaining out around his hand down to your collarbone. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

Renjun loves it, loves how easy it was to shut you up, make you grovel for his cute cock. Pleading to do anything to you, to make you feel good.

“Something, please please Alpha.”

“This what you want?” Teasing at his slit, he eyes you curiously, wrapping around the base of his length to stroke himself to full hardness. Chubbing up impressively, definitely not as cute as you’d perceived.

He teases the tip along your upper lip, layering a coat of thick precum there to blend with drool. “Show me what that pretty bratty mouth can do.”

He felt even bigger against your tongue, finally breeching past your lips after pulling back teasingly with each flick of your tongue at his slit. The playfulness rapidly diminished as he buried forward, suffocating your nose with the smooth skin beneath his navel.

Sucking and gagging became inevitable around the Alphas size stretching your lips open painfully. Letting out loud groans above you with each ragged breath blown through your nose against his skin, each sloppy slurp around his size. Vibrating out moans between struggling to breathe when Haechan’s fingers sank lower, tapping at your entrance with extra force as he pushed the elastic in your underwear to the limits to get three of his digits inside of you.

The tip of Renjun’s length brutally punching the back of your throat only spurred more wetness out, gliding Haechan’s fingers to bury deeper. Growling as he nipped at your earlobe about how nasty you are, getting turned on by sucking cock like a whore.

“Only real sluts get wet from sucking dick, you know what that makes you baby?”

Licking up the bottom of Renjun’s length, you nod, enjoying how he weighed down on your tongue. Lips swollen from each pointed movement further pushing your mouth to open wide and take his entire size, tearing up and coughing all the more even as you tried to slow him down. Hands uselessly flying to grip onto his thighs and plead with wide begging eyes for the Alpha to slow and let you breathe.

“Aww, not so cute anymore?“ he grins, pushing your hair back grabbing fistfuls with a tight lock of his fingers; commanding control by pushing you further down his shaft to take it all.

Renjun never gave your mouth a break, thrusting his hips forward with vigor to fill your throat over and over. Biting down to calm pleasured groans from exiting, not wanting you to know how much he was enjoying this. You needed to earn it.

“That’s it, that’s how slutty Omegas suck cock.” Haechan praised, licking at your earlobe. Thumb swiping your clit in rapid motion as his fingers continued to pump inside you. “Cum around my fingers, let me feel you squeeze up. Cumming from taking Alphas dick down your throat. You know who cums from that baby? Bratty little Omega whores.”

“Ah, fuck,” Renjun’s tough facade snapped, breaking into pieces when your eyes rolled back the more Haechan stroked between your walls. Hips stuttering to a halt as his upper lip trembles over his teeth letting out breathy whimpers. “G-gonna cum, ugh fuck.”

A few more weak thrusts had hot release pouring down your throat. Shots of hot cum hitting your tonsils as your thighs clenched up, jutting back against Haechan with your hands reaching to clutch his wrist, squirming and crying around Renjun’s length as your own release hit. Punching from your gut to your throat, convulsing in time with each other dragging out a long orgasm from Renjun, collapsing down to his knees leaving cum to trickle out onto your chin.

“Fuck.”

Haechan’s sucking his fingers clean, licking between each to not miss any bit of your sloppy release, his free hand working to pull off your ruined bottoms with Renjun stripping your top off. Breath knocked from their lungs upon seeing your bared skin, obscenely wet down to your knees, hazily staring at them standing above you as you try to recuperate.

Haechan’s tongue drags across his palm, gaze lit up by the fear passing over your face the longer they stand there observing you. He’s the first to move, bending over by his waist to get in your face, whispering out hotly. “Now, tell me something.”

A ruthless grip captures your mound as he distracts you, digging the heel of his palm against your tender clit. “What type of useless Omega are you? Haven’t made me cum once.”

“B-but, you said..”

Two fingers roughly crook inside inside, gliding in despite how swollen your folds have become, filled with blood pumping down between your thighs. Throbbing loud enough you swear you can hear it, emptying the parts of your brain that help you function, giving into the heat with each press he buries deeply, curling his fingers up until your back arches. Crooning between a shattered moan.

“I said?” His pretty soft eyes widen, precious like a stuffed plushie you’d cuddle through the night. Actions speaking louder than the false image he uses to taunt you more with. “What did I say? Huh? Suddenly you listen?”

“I listen!” You end up shouting, too shook up by the stinging smack landing on your inner thigh. Digits ripping free from your core, oozing out tendrils of thick slick obscenely.

“What do you think, Renjun?”

Renjun’s face gives off more purity than Haechan’s, the smile teasing at his lips so sweet and soft. Irises gleaming angrily, sleek and cold. The two of them quietly preparing to destroy you. “I think she hasn’t done shit to prove why we should fuck her again.”

“Is that right Omega?” Haechan rips your head back, spouting a line of spit inside of your parted lips, he smacks at your jaw, dragging you to move by pulling at your scalp. “Say it.”

“Wanna make you cum Alpha, wanna be good for you.”

Renjun’s throat lodges a bit from the needy way you stare between them, letting Haechan’s spit rest on your tongue, pushing it out through pursed lips. Sweat dampened hair, big wet eyes, bloated spit coated lips, and slick pouring from your hole in globs, absolutely pornographic. He considers— if he had the money, he’d pay for your content too.

“Good,” Renjun voices, sitting down to move you onto his lap. Shedding his clothes off while Haechan played with you, his cock pressed to your lower back, fully hard again. “Because I’m gonna knot your pretty little pussy.”

Suddenly he’s pulling you back onto his cock with one smooth glide. Scrambling to position yourself with feet scurrying to perch on his thighs. The sound that emits when he shoves in absolutely filthy— disgusting, choking a moan from between your lungs as you head tosses back again.

“What makes you think you deserve to cum again?” Renjun bites at the shell of your ear, thrusting up sloppily from the amount of slick pouring onto his thighs. Slapping the sides of yours until your legs completely bend, steadily planting your feet above his knees to prop you open for the other Alpha.

“I’ve been good!” You cry out, repeating a chant of ‘please please please’ like a prayer, head flopping back onto his shoulder harder when Haechan crawls forward on his knees spitting at your clit. Tongue smearing the mess lower, meeting with Renjun’s length stretching you open. Tongue curling around your clit as two fingers find way to your entrance, gathering the wetness spilling out around the other Alphas cock.

“Please!” Renjun grunts, hips slapping against your bottom, digging his nails into the backs of your knees. Straining to fuck you faster, groaning louder each time Haechan’s tongue laps slick off his length.

“You—haven’t earned it yet.” He grits, breathlessly cursing.

“Please! Let me—Alpha, please!” Eyes roll to the back of your head, shouting out, clenching your toes. “Ahh! Ah—ahh fuck!”

Haechan shoves three fingers inside of you as Renjun thrusts out, pushing in through the free space to prod at your insides. The slide of cock against his long calloused fingers setting off a stinging pain to your chest.

“So fucking tight.” The Alpha on his knees says proudly, working to match Renjun’s thrust. Not even bothering to give you time to adjust, he sets a snapping pace pummeling a path inside immediately. “Don’t think she should get to cum until she can take us both.”

“Hear that baby?” Renjun breathes, delivering a pointed thrust to emphasize what Haechan said, pistoning with more ferocity and anger. The tip of his cock catching on your painfully stretched entrance with each pull out. “Begged to get fucked like a slut, that’s what you think you deserve?”

Between Haechan’s warm breath blowing on your clit and Renjun’s unforgiving movements, endless pleads begging to cum spill from your tongue. The Alpha inside of you chasing after his climax faster while bouncing you up and down, fingers jamming in and out, cock lodged deep inside, tongue flicking your clit over and over again.

“Alpha! Please—please cum!”

“Where?” Renjun huffs, thrusting harder, blinking sweat away from his eyelashes. “Ask for it!”

He slaps at your thighs, beating the skin with wicked stings. Cracking dry whimpers from your throat as Haechan’s lips suck around your clit. “I-Inside! Please! Inside!”

Renjun’s throat locks up, chest heaving and squeezing tight making it harder to breathe, pushing deep past where Haechan’s fingers can reach inside of you. Struggling to keep up his speed as the base of his size expands, pushing through with teeth gritted, hips not slowing for even a second despite the new resistance gripping him. Cum bursts, spilling down around his length from the extra stretch inside of you, flowing down to the other Alpha’s wrist who licks it up, suckling up the nasty mess of slick and cum.

“A-alpha..please let me cum, please.” Desperation has you near the brink of insanity. Body full blown trembling in the weakened hold on your thighs.

Haechan smirks, tucking his fingers inside his mouth, pushing up with his free hand to spit the combined release on your chin and chest. “You really think you deserve to cum already? What about me?”

Haechan’s pushing one of your thighs up higher before you can even register what’s happening, weakened and overstimulated from being edged for too long. The tip of his length prods at your filled entrance, dragging over your swollen clit, dropping his forehead to yours as he begins to push in past the tight squeeze he’s met with.

The cries and whimpers you let out only encourage him, pressing in more as he holds his breath, sucking in his nostrils to restrain the need to cum. Making Renjun let out a pitiful grunt against your shoulder when he slides against the other Alphas size. Knot full grown making his brain spin from the stimulation rubbing against him.

“So fucking dirty.” Haechan says, shoulders tensed from trying to contain himself. Throbbing against the deathlock your walls wrap around him as he meets obstruction, blending with Renjun’s length beneath. “Fuck, so fucking dirty and messy.”

The ache burns painfully, worse than before, stinging the backs of your eyes with moisture that pushes out at the first thrust he gives. Gliding in and out of you easily with Renjun’s cum leaking down between his thighs. Haechan buries his size inside of you with pointed thrusts, doing it with extra force just to watch the tears pour from your eyes faster, just to hear your cries grow louder, pour from the walls like music reverberating out of speakers.

“Made to get fucked.” He mutters, licking at sweat and tears dangling from the tip of your nose. “Made to take Alpha cock like this, take it like a good Omega. Offering your holes to any Alpha, desperate for a fat knot, so fucking greedy you need two.”

“Hae-haechan—“ it’s barely a whisper, croaking from the back of your throat. Bounced down onto Renjun’s knot, getting hard again enough to compose himself and match up to Haechan’s pace even when it hurts him. Too lust ridden to stop himself when your ass bounces against his stomach. Firm strokes filling you up, rubbing against each other incessantly.

“Fuck, gonna cum.” He pants against your lips, tongue laving out like a hungry dog. Biting and sucking on whatever he can catch, leaving your mouth more swollen and bruised. “Make Alpha cum baby, wanna feel that pussy squeeze up again.”

Guiding a hand between your bodies, he thumbs at your over-sensitive clit again, sending shock waves of pleasure up your spine. Head jerked back onto Renjun’s shoulder, blabbering between your cries as you finally clenched around the two; orgasm barreling out of you sending a wave of electric shock up to your brain. The scream you let out echoing off the walls, permeating obscene wet squelches paired with the Alphas noisy grunts.

“A-ahh—“ Haechan’s head drops, knot ripping out around his base with one more thrust, locking him into place unable to move anymore as his cock weeps. Cum pouring out of him fiercely, endlessly streaming out. Only able to stay inside from the knots battling to keep you plugged up.

Renjun’s hips jump up just once, grinding upward letting out another release between a strangled groan that barely exits his lips.

“N-no no more, noo..” you hiccup, sobbing into the crook of Haechan’s neck. The ache in your legs gone numb from the overwhelming heat filling your gut, splayed out like a broken doll between the Alphas. Panting like animals stuck in humid heat that won’t allow you to catch your breath.

“Good Omega.” Haechan pecks wherever his mouth can reach, nudging his nose against your eyelid. “God, you’re so good.”

Renjun lets out a muffled sound agreeing, blowing hot air along the back of your shoulder.

“Thanks for..” Haechan grins, lip curling up wickedly. “Letting us come over.”

He’s not sure if he should kiss you, blinking up making direct eye contact with one of the various streaming cameras— he remembers that this isn’t live, opting to gently peck the tip of your nose. “You okay?”

“Mhm..” your eyes can’t seem to stay in place, as if the sockets have lost control of power, rolling back still too high off your climax. “Thank you Alphas.”

“Hey?” Jeno pokes into your bedroom, subtly ducking his chin in to hide the thrill painting his features upon seeing your set-up. Swallowing down a raspy cough, he glances around, smirking at the visual of your pink bedding. The room he’s dreamt of for months, weeks, days, restless nights awake stroking his cock to made-up fantasies of turning you around into multiple positions on this bed.

He’s calm, mostly, stealing looks around for where various cameras have been placed to capture different angles of what’s about to go down.

“Jeno?”

Your voice shivers up his spine, flaring his nostrils as he lets the scent of rose petals in your body wash lingering on your flesh circle around him. The prominent aroma of heat hits stronger than any amount of scrub and bubbles you used to cleanse your skin of Renjun and Haechan’s cum.

Honey.. sweet dripping honeycombs..

Jeno has to stop himself from sucking down a deep breath of slick gathering between your thighs. Muscles strain beneath the sweat soaked cotton material of his shirt, twitching while he tries to keep collected, turning to face you with an easy smile. “Jaemin sent me in to see if you’re ready for the photoshoot.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming too?”

Jeno shrugs, explaining his sweaty appearance by telling you the story of their broken air conditioner while you sort through a rack of scantily clad garments hung on silk hangers. He thinks it’s fitting, everything in your bedroom screams feminine, delicate and pretty, only adding more ideas in his mind of different ways he’d love to rip off your designer lingerie. His monthly fee had to contribute to your closet somehow.

“Everyone’s air conditioner’s breaking from these heatwave’s..” you mumble, shyly gripping tighter onto the towel wrapped around you.

“Do you feel uncomfortable with me being here?” Jeno questions, proceeding to carry on conversation as if red lights from the cameras couldn’t bother him in the least.

“A little,” you say, sparing him a coy look over your shoulder with a small wink. “Jaemin told me that you’re one of my subscribers. Maybe you can help me choose what to wear?”

Jeno’s mouth hangs open comically following your towel slipping off, immediately hit with a potent waft of your scent. He has to tighten his fist as his sides to stop from lunging at your bare backside. Stepping closer with thinning eyes to stand behind you, he digs at your shoulder with the tip of his nose. Hands finding the back of your waist to tickle at with light grazes.

“Why would you put something on?” He glowers, quietly speaking. “You think I won’t just rip it off of you?”

“Alpha, what are y-you..” Jeno’s instincts take over, already forgetting he’s here technically to work.

“I’ve been subscribed to you for a really long time.” He whispers for you, hoping the microphones Jaemin set up can’t pick up on his low rumble. “Is that weird?”

Jeno’s cute— kind of in the same way Renjun’s dick is cute, but even cuter. The calmest he’s been since arriving with the others just now, pheromones similar to an Alpha pup entering their first rut, even that aspect melted your chest, having to bite your tongue from over-complimenting the Alpha in the moment to keep the act going.

“Do you know how many of my subscribers wish they could fuck me?”

Jeno splutters, pinching his fingers into where your waist dips, bottom lip jutting out as he shakes his head.

“Every single one of them. Don’t let them down.. Alpha.”

He’s been waiting so long for this, even had to wait while his friends fucked you first. Chewing at his nails nervously while he sat out on the balcony with Jaemin, he thought about it, remembering each time you’d notice his messages in the chat and responded with a devilish smile.

“None of them have ever wanted you as much as me.” Jeno steps closer, positioning your chest against the wall with his hips circling against your backside holding you in place with one palm flattened on the curve in your spine. “None of them will ever fuck you the way I’m about to.”

“Alpha..” you say it in such a gentle tone, lowering down to the coquettish gamer girl voice that always makes payments drop into your account faster. Tongue hanging out for Jeno’s eyes to track, following the little wiggle you give before he snaps, darting forward to trap you between his lips.

It’s not a slow kiss, lacking rush as he savors tasting you for the first time. Just as sweet and tantalizing as he always imagined, better even; cherry flavored jolly rancher that he wishes could permanently stain his tongue with remnants of its flavor.

The Alphas strong build melts heavily against your back, trailing bony long fingers between your lower halves to tug himself free.

“F-fuck.” You gasp, planting your forehead against the wall, losing the hold around your tongue. Lips returning to an abused swollen state from the heated kiss.

“I know how you like it.” Jeno whispers, licking up your jawline to your earlobe, nipping as he slaps his length between the crevice of your ass. “I know how you love it.”

His shaft feels weighty on your bottom, slapping down landing with obscenely loud smacks the cameras could pick up on even without microphones. “How’s your pussy gonna take all this dick baby?”

Jeno already has your eyes rolling up, from the gravely rasp in his tone to his sheer mass pressing heavy on your body, forcing your nipples to scratch against the wall sending shrill sensations down to the gushing space between your thighs. “Thought you were a fan..”

“Oh I am.” Jeno clicks his tongue, kissing at the backs of his teeth. Bending at his knees to swipe between your buttcheeks. “Gonna fuck every part of you.”

He pushes between your thighs to emphasize, grunting like a beast against your nape. Excitement from before spiraling into the pure need to fuck and breed, fill you with pups before any other Alpha can.

Even between your thighs Jeno feels too thick, forcing your knees to bump into each other with each splitting thrust he gives. Pushing at his sweats haphazardly to relieve his balls of the heat swarming his skin, his Alpha taking over chanting to mate mate mate. Each slap of his hips screams against your backside, resounding an aggressive clap throughout your bedroom.

Jeno can hardly believe your slicks staining his sweats, leaking out for him, pussy folds draping around his size pleading to be filled. “My Omega, gonna be dreaming about my cock after this. On your knees for me, begging for Alpha to fuck you.”

The heat between your thighs becomes unbearable, jammed against his size viciously strumming your clit. Heavy palms cup your waist, riding you back and forth on his length faster, scrabbling at the wall.

Jeno shouts a string of curses, ripping away only to throw you down on the bed. Throat tight as he swiftly twists off his shirt. Pupils blown wide covered in black, a blush rising from the center of his chest to warm pink nipples, tracing the veins lining his throat to where his lips swell into a pout.

He stands proud following your heated gaze to his gleaming shaft standing tall, reaching the middle of his carved abdomen. Instinctively clamping your thighs together when he approaches, kicking his sweats off, smiling too adorably as he captures your thighs.

“What happened to being the queen of taking cock?”

Jeno lets out a giggle, a fucking giggle, amused by the sheer terror crossing your expression. Spreading your thighs apart, losing his stature when your heady scent hits him. Pussy insanely drenched leaving a puddled mess to create under your ass.

His length drapes down the center of your stomach, the tip landing just above halfway. Poking at your muscles twitching under his size. “That’s how deep I’m gonna fuck you.”

The need to claim you and make you his intensifies more, mesmerized by your hole twitching, pulsing around nothing. Your body screaming from anywhere to get fucked, for him to fuck you, that’s all Jeno can think. You need him to fuck you.

“Only I get to see you like this..” He says, jaw locking when he has to specify. “…out of all the Alphas who pay.”

The realization stirs up the Alphas primal hunger, desire overflowing to ruin you, ruin you for only him. Ensure that no one else will ever be good enough, no one else will ever satisfy you.

Jeno almost feels embarrassed as he circles the tip of his length on your entrance. Shivering from his thighs to where his throat bobs up and down. Prolonging teasing your hole only for his sanity— quietly pep-talking himself up to not cum in a minute, he hadn’t edged himself for hours into the night missing sleep over your videos to fuck up this chance.

After what feels like an eternity, he sucks down a deep breath lowering inch by inch into your sopping wet cunt. Lewd ridiculous sounds of wetness gush out around his fat size, walls clamping down sucking him in to move even faster. True to his word, your stomach extends when he sinks inside to the hilt, cock pushing your walls to a new stretch. Fiercely throbbing between your convulsing heat.

“Oh fu-fuck..” Jeno’s mouth drops open, his eyes rolling up as if this was his first time. Your pussy tightening around his size like a glove, the veins beating up and down his length molding to the shape of your insides. “So—so fucking tight.”

Jeno’s mewling, brain thoughtless to the cameras recording, not a care in the world about the amount of comments that would make fun of him. His reaction only confirming you weren’t just a pretty Omega for Alphas to shower with gifts, but the actual girl of his dreams. The fleshlight he discretely kept hidden under his bed from your merch site would never be able to compare.

He pulls out only to slam his cock back in, drowning in the way you spasm and clench around him. Pussy locked tight refusing to let go, knowing in the back of his mind he’d have you trained to take his size everyday, turn you into the perfect doll to sit on his cock.

The Alphas hands find your curved waist, dipping the pads of his fingers in to gain momentum. “So pretty, you’re so pretty.” He says between labored breaths, cock stroking in and out too rapidly, losing coherency too much to even understand him.

Jeno’s speed becomes punishing, caught up in his own crazed lust, determined to push cum far deep enough inside of you that you taste him in the back of your mouth.

Moans and whimpers soar off your tongue, head thrashing side to side as the Alpha lifts your ankles to his shoulders, pounding faster until you’re limp. Hanging boneless on his cock spearing all the way inside, bulging the skin around your navel out with each deep hit.

“Alpha..c-cum,” you babble breathlessly. Air knocked out of you with each unforgiving slide of Jeno’s length pushing your mind further away. “C-close, I—close.”

He nods, taking the initiative to fuck you with extra force until you’re shouting, gripping at the pillows above your head. The pillows he’s watched you ride and get off on countless amounts of times. Memories of cumming in the shower, at 3am in bed, even in the school bathroom resurface as his gaze takes in your breasts bouncing, clapping together from the impact of his body engulfing yours.

“Cum for your Alpha, cum for me baby.”

Your orgasm clutches you by the throat, beckoning your back to arch up as your release nearly forces Jeno’s size to push out. Wetness spritzing over his abs and chest, even reaching up to slap under his chin.

“What’s taking so long?” Jaemin steps in right as Jeno folds you in half, the backs of your knees hoisted to the sides of your head, neck thrown back in a complete daze.

The Alpha on top of you catches his friend entering from the corner of his eye, a camera in hand as they planned for better up-close shots under the premise of photographing content for your page. His thrusts never falter, angling and maneuvering just right to reach where you need, pummeling moaned gasps from the back of your throat.

“Gonna fill you full of pups.” Jeno mostly says to himself, voice rough and serious with each dip crushing his abdominal muscles together. Sweaty and flexing the more he grinds forward, grunting through licks at his teeth. “Want Alpha to breed your pretty cunt? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Fixated on chasing his release, Jeno pushes your thighs to your chest. Pressing hard watching his cock punch through your slick velvety walls. Entrance clinging to his thick girth, looking raw and used, still wanting more.

Droplets of sweat rain down, landing to melt along the backs of your legs from where they jump off Jeno’s jaw, neck rippling under a sheet of sweat. Exerting more power to cage you completely, leaving little to no room for you to even squirm away.

Jaemin expected to walk in on this, what he didn’t expect was the wash of annoyance that poured down his mind. Biting at his bottom lip to control himself from ruining the moment, he powers on the camera in his hand; zooming in to your face as Jeno leans in to give you the messiest, spittiest, barely there kiss. A kiss more so meant for his friends eyes only.

“What was that?” Jeno spews, wet hair flopping on his forehead. The heat from your bodies overpowering the air blowing from the vent above your door. Even Jaemin has to lap away sweat from his upper lip the closer he approaches.

Jeno’s question breaks through your mind with another ruthless snap of his hips. Chanting a round of broken yesyesyesyes, shouting out for the Alpha when his relentless pounding turns erratic, burning your back to shift up your bed. Damp bedding lights fire up your back, dragged harder by the Alpha losing his restraint, stilling right as your head hits the headboard.

Jeno’s growls sound close to whines, pup whines. Fucking like he’s never had a rut before, never slowing, emptying cum deep inside your walls for what feels like hours. Knot popping, sending hisses between his grinding teeth, deeply wrinkled around his squeezed shut eyes. Shallowly continuing to fuck your pussy through his never ending orgasm, knot attempting to sneak through with another thrust.

“Too much! S-too much!” You sob, head reeling and aching from how hard Jeno had fucked you, the headboard smacking back when you collided.

Jaemin taps his friend's shoulder, breaking his daze. Finally letting your legs down gently to not flop down harshly.

Jeno wants to curse, cry, shout and scream, kick his legs. Smoothing his hands down soft tender flesh lining your inner thighs, fixated on your ruined hole plugged up full of his cum, filled to the brim by his cock and knot. “So perfect.”

He shifts back just enough to admire white hot release squeeze out. Knot covered with a mixture of you both, something he could get off to if he had a photo on hand. Nodding for Jaemin to come closer and get a shot as he dips his digits to collect some of the blend, raising it to your lips letting out whines from over sensitivity.

“Open baby, that’s it pretty baby.” He coos, pushing a filthy wad of your cum onto your tongue, plump lips wrapping around his fingers with a suck.

Jaemin concentrates on filming your face, his dick twitching when your relaxed expression switches to one of fear, Jeno going on about how good you feel, how he’s your Alpha now.

“Who owns you now? Hmm?” He asks, penetrating his digits further in until you’re gagging, coughing from the rough pace he starts prodding your mouth with.

“You know why she’s not answering?” Jaemin interrupts, scanning the drool that's covered your chin and chest. “You can’t own a slut.”

Without another word, Jaemin elbows Jeno’s side, taken over by how long he’s waites. How infuriated he feels having to witness another Alpha fuck you stupid when that should be him.

The Alpha in question grumbles, knot gone down enough to be shoved aside with ease to be forgotten. He sits near, doing as he was instructed to earlier— ‘film it like a viewer would enjoy, you should know how.’

Jaemin’s fast to turn you over, his hands brushing up the backs of your thighs to grip your hips. Positioning your ass up like a good Omega presenting for their Alpha, not even giving you a minute to realize he’s about to fuck you face down ass up before he swipes between your folds gathering slick and cum, burying into your ass with one push.

He’s big— so fucking big. Fully erect, stretching your hole wide around thick fat girth. The better part of Jaemin long gone, his only care now to fuck your ass raw, hear your wails blast around the room, claim a part of you before Jeno can.

He’s so deep, filling your hole up giving you no time to even adjust, writhing as you reach for something, anything. Clutching at your bed topper, at Jeno’s smooth built thigh. The Alpha panning over the exposed white of your eyes, tongue hung out trickling saliva out like something straight out of Hentai.

Jaemin’s strong thighs press to the backs of yours, cock fully breaching your hole, stinging from the tip of your spine all the way to the top. Cries, sobbing cries sound before you can even register, fucked too stupid by the fullness splitting your ass open.

Nothing about the Alphas movements comes across charming or polite anymore, brutally gripping your hips with a bruising hold; leveraging your weight to snap forward forcing a deep bowed arch in your back.

Skin clapping against wet skin boomed around your bedroom, muffling the whimpering moans spewing from your chest. Jaemin only spurred to fuck you full of his rage— rage that should be directed at the Alpha equally irritated behind the camera.

“Alpha! Please—“ saliva collecting around your tongues slips free, covering your chin in more of a mess. Adding more obscenity to the visual of Jaemin’s broad figure behind you, pushing the mounds of your ass to roll over onto your lower back with each pummel of his hips.

“Did I say you could fucking speak?” Jaemin growls, slapping your hip before looping a fist through your hair. Yanking to lift your head for the camera lense to zoom in and out and focus on the disaster that’s taken place. Tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, lips debauched from chewing and biting, snot mixing with sweat above your pout. A nasty little mess, manhandled around by Alphas like nothing but a useless fucktoy.

“You see Jeno?” He leans over, pressing against your ass making your thighs scream from the burn of his weight pushing you into a half-split bent at your knees. “He’s your biggest fan.”

Jaemin’s tone fills with mockery, taunting and picking at his friend, taking a hold of your jaw with his other hand to make you look at the camera, look at Jeno’s enraged face hiding behind it. The cold gaze watching you coiling heat through your gut, spiraling up your chest. Trapped by the Alphas hand lowering to cup your throat with a squeeze, coughing through sobs the more he tightens.

“So fucking ungrateful, he pays so much just to watch you, pretend you belong to him.” Jaemin tuts, lifting hooded eyes to glare at the other. “This is how you thank him? Let his best friend fuck your ass. Such a fucking whore.”

Jeno’s lips pull back in a snarl, silently warning his roommate to stop trying him. Making him suffer as much as he’s made you with the bullshit he goes on saying.

“You can thank him better than this.” Jaemin says, roughly shaking your throat in his grip. “Come on, open up that pretty mouth.”

Instantaneously your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, causing Jeno to grunt, clamping his free hand around the base of his shaft. Shame and thrill combining to rip a guttural moan through it all. Jaemin only using your brainless weakened stated to his advantage.

The Alphas bicep lodges against your throat, squeezing your breath to choke out with every thrust, his other hand fisting your hair until your neck arches back in a painful way. Jeno getting an amazing shot of your tongue hanging lifelessly, drooling onto Jaemin’s meaty bulging bicep. Biting down on it hard enough to shock yourself to waken enough and cry.

Jaemin’s nose buries behind your ear, licking at whatever he can reach. Hiding his voice by latching onto your neck. “So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking hot.”

He gets it, he more than gets it. Stilling to circle against your ass as he lets out a less than manly whine. The desperation rumbling from his chest lets you know he’s close, face crumpling behind you, doing his best to keep it a secret with his nose tucked into your hair.

His thrusts snap like quick jabs, sharp and pointed. Expertly fucking your ass without losing his pace, without caring if you even get off. Letting your head drop, Jaemin gives your scalp a break, slapping a firm grip on your shoulder to keep you in place. The impact forcing your face to drop forward, biting down on the bicep shifting under your chin. Thick meat of muscle fills your taste buds, laving at it pathetically to compress the wails trying to crack from your lungs.

Jaemin knows he doesn’t have to do it, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. Reminding you to be grateful he’s even fucking your slutty ass, he jerks your neck back up, cracking in the process. Pushing your hips up with his length grinding into you. Fingers swoop down, blurring over your clit in a mean way just to make you cry more. “Show your loyal fans what it takes to make you cum.”

Fumbling to fist the bedding, you convulse, pussy clenching at nothing. Squirting all over your thighs, ruined pretty pink blanket, and the Alpha’s forearm continuing to vibrate pushing your orgasm over the edge.

Jaemin let’s out a cracked groan, having to slow down from the ass clamps around him. Thrashing against his arm making the pressure worse on his cock.

He sighs through a moan, cupping your bruised hip to pull out, cock landing with a wet slap where your butt perks and rounds out. Struggling to keep his eyes open as he groans filthily, the tip of his length prodding in and it of your hole to push his cum in. Letting the rest of it cover your ass with a creamy layer.

“There you go,” he sighs, kissing your temples. Licking away sweat that’s about to clump your eyelashes together more. “Such a good Omega.”

He eyes the teeth marks shining under a coat of drool left behind on his arm, softly dislodging your chin while massaging the back of your strained neck. “Hungry little puppy.”

He thrusts back in once more for good measure, making you squeal and hiss, his heavy hand pushing at your lower back to slide out with calm. Cum bubbling around his softening length as your rim pulses.

Jeno lets out an angry scoff, grabbing onto the back of your leg once Jaemin finally moves off. Grumbling something about how his friend took long enough.

“N-no! No more!” You cry, wailing, weakly trying to crawl away on your knees. Jeno tossing you onto your back like a rag doll after Jaemin emptied the life out of you.

“Shh, be good for Alpha.”

The last thing you hear before your eyes roll to the backs of your sockets. Lungs crushed under Jeno’s weight as he sinks deep inside your ass pushing the rest of Jaemin’s cum to pour out.

“Hey.” Jeno’s eyes light up above you, his face all fresh with floppy damp hair. Sporting a soft smile, patting a cool cloth on your forehead. “You’re awake. I think your heat actually broke.”

“Hmm?” Sitting up on your elbows, you see Jaemin sitting at the end of the bed, a shifty gaze roaming between you and the other Alpha.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, rubbing at the side of his neck, a nervous habit.

“Kind of sleepy.” You yawn, settling against two stacked pillows. Jeno continues to pamper you, apologizing for losing control with a look of concern.

“That was the point, Alpha.” You reassure with a wink, tracing the lines of his opened apologetic palm. “Should have the video up by tomorrow, after my editor cuts all the unsexy stuff.”

Jaemin clears his throat to interrupt, wishing Jeno would leave first so he could talk to you in private. It’s not as if his roommate should have any type of claim on you just because he was horny enough to pay for a monthly subscription.

“We should leave so you can rest.” He nods. “I have some errands to run tomorrow nearby, if you need anything..”

Jeno’s jaw pops open, fixing his friend with an offended look. The other proceeding to ignore him with a shrug.

“Thank you Alp—….Jaemin..”

“Of course.” He smiles politely, the demon that had just wrecked your ass long disappeared by now. “Let’s get going Jeno.”

Jeno follows after Jaemin, trudging to exit with slumped shoulders, weighed down by an impending sensation of regret. Tilting his head side to side annoyed the more he thought about it.

“Be right back!” He spins, jogging the short distance back to your bedroom to find you still blissfully laid in place ready to fall asleep again.

“Hey.” He smiles brightly, blinking to keep his eyes as open as possible despite the way his cheeks ache from stretching his lips so wide.

“Jeno? Did you forget something?”

The Alpha steps back inside, sinking your bed in where he sits and pulls out his phone. “Yeah, your phone number.”

“Ahh..” covering your face, you can’t resist the urge to squeal. The overly eager Alpha unleashing shyness and excitement in your chest. “So cheesy!”

“I should’ve been cooler, right?” He wonders, teeth chattering with a nervous laugh. “Strolled in like— what’re you doing this weekend? Other than me?”

“Jeno?” Jaemin pokes his head past your door, having followed after him and listened to this embarrassing back and forth long enough. “Let’s go. Now. Haechan and Renjun have been waiting for us at the restaurant.”

“Oh yeah yeah, sorry.” Jeno leans over, stealing a kiss on your forehead as if his mouth hadn’t just slathered the entirety of your body in sucks and bites. “Get some rest.”

Jaemin nods, staying behind as his friend walks out. “Can I text you still?”

“Huh?” You question sleepily, confused as to why he’d ask. “Of course.. Alpha.”

Jaemin smiles, ducking his chin to hide the blush seeping through his cheeks. “Maybe we can hang out? next Saturday?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

a/n: Jeno favoritism always😭

ps- kinda proofed/kinda not🥹💙

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kylie-writes-stuff · 1 year

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pairing: Nick Miller x reader word count: 1.8k summary: y/n goes to the loft to find jess, needing comfort after a recent breakup. she's surprised to find that nick's the only one home warnings: mention of a breakup, needing comfort. fluff. toxic ex + messages from said ex. jealous/protective!nick. not really proof read. a/n: hi!! i've really been wanting to get back into writing and Nick Miller's recently infested my brain. this is my first time writing for him so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) not my gif!

You walked down the streets of Los Angeles, the bright afternoon being a stark contrast to your current mood.

You couldn't trust yourself to drive right now. Not with your vision so blurry from the tears building in your eyes. Luckily, you knew the way to your friend's loft like the back of your hand.

You kept your head down and your hood up, carefully weaving between the many strangers that shared the sidewalk with you. You ignored the world for the time being. You couldn't even spare a greeting to Outside Dave when he began spouting nonsense.

You needed to see Jess. She was always there for you and she knew how to comfort you. You talked to her about everything, but you hadn't really been able to for the last few days since she's been so busy at school. You had tried to deal with everything yourself as you patiently waited for today, knowing she'd be home soon after school let out and free for the rest of the weekend.

Of course, you knew Cece was there for you too. But you couldn't go to her right now, not with this. Not yet, at least.

The elevator doors opened and you took a sharp right, making a beeline towards the apartment. You took a breath and opened the door.

They really need to start locking it, you thought.

You quickly glanced around the loft, only to see it empty. You were about to turn to knock on the door of Jess' room, before you heard the one across open.

"Finally, someone's home! So I had this idea, right, and- Oh!" You quickly turned your face back towards the floor, not wanting him to see you with your eyes all puffy. "Hey, (Y/n)!"

You knew the guys, as you were over at the loft all the time. You got along with all of them well and you enjoyed their company. You didn't want to ruin Nick's perception of you by showing a weak side of you.

"Hey, Nick. Uh, is Jess home?" You asked him.

"Nah, she's in like a staff meeting or something... (Y/n), are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-I'm fine. I just needed to talk to Jess, you know? Um, I'll get out of your hair, though, sorry I dropped in unannounced."

You turned back towards the door before a hand on your arm stopped you.

"Whoa, hold on. (Y/n), you already came all this way, just wait here for Jess to get back. C'mon, hang with your ol' pal Nicky!"

"It's okay, really. I don't wanna bother you."

"Hey, you're never a bother. Plus, when am I ever busy?"

You chuckled, "Got me there. Alright... Nicky."

"Yes! You want a beer?"

"God, yes please."

You made your way to the couch as Nick went to the kitchen. He kept his eyes fixed on you as he opened the bottles in his hand.

You were hurting and he could tell. He could see it in your slumped shoulders, your wavering voice, your leg currently bouncing up and down. He could tell by your red eyes that you tried so desperately to hide from him. You never realized, but he noticed a lot about you every time you were together.

Even if it wasn't just the two of you, you'd be the only thing he could focus on. In the loft with all his friends around, he'd immediately be drawn closer to you the second you walked through the door. He could spot you easily in a crowded bar.

It's like you had him under a spell and he couldn't break free.

He absolutely hated seeing you like this. So even though talking about emotions made him feel... weird, he'd do what he could. Even if it was just having a beer together and trying to make you laugh, he wanted to be there for you.

Nick sat next to you on the couch and handed you the ice cold bottle. The two of you sat, drank,and talked. Conversation with Nick always flowed comfortably. There was something about him that made it so easy to talk to him without getting bored. You were also very curious about his idea he had mentioned when you first arrived.

That made him feel good. He was able to, hopefully, get you mind off of whatever was bothering you. But you also genuinely cared about what he had to say. It was nice.

It seemed to just be getting later and later as the two of you opened more bottles.

Eventually, your mood had dropped again. You tried to hide it as best as you could. I mean, surely Jess couldn't be gone that much longer, right? But Nick noticed right away.

"Alright," He tapped your knee with the bottle in his hand, your attention snapping back towards him. "I'd say we got a good buzz goin'. Talk to me, (Y/n). What's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and sighed. "You know that guy I've been going out with? Derek?"

Nick nodded.

How wouldn't he know? You had met Derek on a night out a few months ago and you hit it off well. You looked so happy, immediately rushing to tell Jess and Cece about the date you had set for later that week. Nick remembered watching from behind the bar, wanting to be the one you talked about that way so badly.

You slowly circled the rim of your bottle with the pad of your finger.

"I broke up with him."

"You did?"

"Yeah. You know how people talk about, like, toxic relationships all the time? That's what it was. He wasn't good for me, and Cece had tried to warn me. But I didn't listen... I never listen."

"Hey..." Nick started, trying to find the right words. "You did what you had to. It's hard losing someone but you don't wanna get caught in a cycle that constantly hurts you. Trust me, I've been there. You did what was best for you."

"I know I did, but... it hurts, you know?" You looked up at Nick and he nodded in understanding.

His heart broke seeing the look on your face. He thought for a moment before asking, "Do you have your own Dirty Dancing, or something like that?"

You knew exactly what he was asking. Ever since you've known Jess, she'd watch Dirty Dancing after a breakup. It made her feel worse and better at times, but no matter what it let her get everything out.

"Something like that, yeah." You smiled.

Nick grabbed the TV remote off the back of the couch and held it out to you.

"Oh, no, it's okay. You wouldn't like it."

Nick merely shrugged and gestured towards the remote again. "Eh, put it on anyways," he urged you.

You gave in and searched for the movie of your choice, Nick going back to the kitchen because he insisted on making popcorn before it started. He also grabbed a few more beers.

You enjoyed sitting there with Nick, sharing snacks and listening to his commentary on one of your favorite movies. He'd make fun of the movie sometimes but you could tell it held his interest.

Even when Schmidt came home and started making fun of him, he intermediately told Nick to shut up. He wasn't bothered being seen watching a movie like this.

Halfway through, though, you heard your phone buzz. You glanced at it, wondering if maybe Jess or Cece were texting you. You hadn't realized how much time had passed since you first arrived...

"For fuck's sake," you mumbled to yourself.

"What happened?" Nick asked, his eyes flicking towards you rather than the screen in front of him.

You handed Nick your phone.

New Messages! Derek Leaving me is the worst decision you've ever made You're a fucking idiot if you think you're better off without me Fuck you I hope you die in a car wreck, you bitch

"It's been messages like this everyday for the last, like... 3 days," you explained.

Rage clouded Nick's mind as he scrolled up to see the, even worse, messages from the days prior. How could such vile things be said to someone like you?

Nick stood up from the couch quickly and made his way towards the door.

"Wait- What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna call him," Nick said furiously.

“Nick, c'mon. I'll just block him, it’s really not that serious—”

“No, but it is! It’s exactly that serious! He doesn't get to call you an idiot! That’s reserved for me only, damn it.” He exploded, focusing on the lighter part of the message. He didn't know what he'd do if he let the worse parts linger in his mind.

You couldn't say anything as he had already hit the call button on Derek's contact. Before stepping out into the hallway, he told you to pause the movie, making you smile despite everything else going on.

The door muffled the words leaving Nick's mouth, but you could hear his tone. He was completely enraged.

He came back in a few moments later, a proud smile on his face. "Well, that's taken care of," he said as he handed your phone back to you.

You blocked Derek's number and tossed your phone to the side.

"Thank you, Nick," you said sincerely.

"No problem, no one should talk to you like that. If he tries anything, you tell me."

You nodded at his words. No one had ever really stood up for you like that...

You pressed play on the remote and leaned against him.

Jess finally came home about 5 minutes from the end of the movie. She noticed you and Nick on the couch and her gaze shifted to the TV. She looked back at you.

"Oh, (Y/n)... I'm so sorry," she said, her face dropping.

"It's okay, I'm... okay. Let me finish this and we'll talk, yeah?" You asked. Jess nodded with a sad smile, and made her way to her room.

As the movie ended, you looked at Nick. "Well?" you asked expectantly.

He tried to hold in his smile as he shrugged and said, "It wasn't that bad, I guess."

You helped him gather the empty beer bottles and he told you to go talk to Jess after.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, taking him by surprise. He paused for a moment before doing the same.

"Thank you, Nick." You looked up at him. "For everything."

He smiled down at you. "You don't have to thank me, (Y/n). You know I'm here."

"I know," You said. You leaned up and quickly kissed his cheek before leaving the embrace and rushing into Jess' room.

She immediately patted the spot on her bed next to her, urging you to talk about what happened.

"Well, let's start with the most recent thing first," You started, looking down with a soft smile. "That crush on Nick isn't going away anytime soon..."

#new girl #nick miller #nick miller x reader #nick miller imagine #new girl imagine

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

Note

Hello! I was wondering (totally okay if not) if I could request a quackity x reader where there playing minwcraft or smth with a few other people and its just like moments of them annoying eachother (as a way of love if that makes sense)

Thank you 💜💜

AH YES OF COURSEEE!! ; did my best w this one, had to quote a lot of vines for this bc I'm not naturally funny and it made sense in a way

QUACKITY ; vinecraft

summary ; annoying each other while playing minecraft with some friends

warnings ; language

genre ; fluff

word count ; 711

masterlist

You and Alex were playing on a Minecraft survival world with Bad and Niki. It wasn't a role-play SMP or anything, just a simple survival world with the Better Minecraft mod.

"Hurricane Katrina? More like Hurricane Tortilla!"

y/u/n was shot by a skeleton

"Y/n did you just willingly give yourself up to those skeletons?" Quackity laughs

"in my defense, they all have chainmail and gold armour, and I have an unbreaking one iron sword and a dream"

"Language! Stop talking about that!" Bad yells

"Yeah, stop talking about pussies, Quackity!"

"Y/n!" Bad and Quackity both exclaim in different tones while Niki laughs

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FORRRR?" Quackity yells, referring to the Vine as he almost breaks his voice a bit

"I'm waiting for those creepers to kill you," you answer, clicking your mouse to swing your hand as to point behind his character

"OH MY GOD NO-"

quackity was exploded by a creeper

"MY SHIT! Y/N, NIKI, GET IT PLEASE, I HAD AN AWESOME DIAMOND HELMET"

"It's Wednesday my dudes-"

"Shut the fuck up I'm fighting a warden, I can't do this right now, Alex!"

"I wanted to be a cowboyyyy baybyyyy" quackity speaks with a shit southern accent

"please stop fucking quoting that" you snicker, "I'm on the edge of this fuckin thing, if I fall I'll die and lose the teleporting thing and your shit"

"No off topic questions. because I don't want to. no. no. you've been stopped"

"PLEASE, I JUST WANNA MAKE THE PENIS, STOP DESTROYING IT Y/N/N"

quackity keeps trying to shoot you off the ledge of the mountain where you were trying to build the base on the side of

"I said whoever keeps shooting me, your moms a hoe!"

"language!"

"you're a hoe, motherfucker!"

"quackity, watch out!"

quackity was exploded by a creeper

"AGAIN!?"

yknow that vine of that kid playing simple piano notes and the other kid getting down to it? that's like the halftime show of the stream

quackitys playing guitar and you're busting it down in game next to niki who can't stop laughing, and bad is totally silent because of all the foul language

I mean the song slapped

then quackity got absolutely sniped by a skeleton while he was on two hearts

"What the fuck is up Kyle? no, what did you say? what the fuck, dude? step the fuck up kyle!"

quackity gets all up close with the mic to literally inhale it, "y/n i love you but my names not Kyle"

"WHATRE THOSE???"

"They are my crocs."

"Actually why do you own crocs? red flag, we're breaking up and I'm dating niki now"

"You move on quickly" quackity mumbles and rolls his eyes

nicki smiles before speaking, "because I'm better than you, quackity"

"Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does"

"Y/n you've spent 85% of this stream quoting Vines"

"Yeah I know, it's because I hate you"

"Wait what?"

when quackity brings up how he lived in the southern hemisphere and talks about living in Mexico, he pauses to breathe and you take the opportunity while you have it

"country boy I love youuuuuuuu. ah"

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"BAHAHHAH"

"I can't be here anymore"

we've all seen the "Hey ron" "Hey billy" meme I think

you'll break into the base through the ceiling to get back in because you're working on a tunnel trailing through the inside of the cliff up to the top as the entrance

"Hey quackity" you say as you land next to quackity trying to sort through chests

"Hey y/n"

you scream as quackity sits down with some pizza in the middle of stream

he screams, "stop, you almost made me drop my pizza!"

yk that meme w the kid w the broomstick doing some anime pose battle shit? here's that one

you'll be swinging your sword around and spamming emotes "don't fuck with me! I have the power of God and anime on my side! AHHHH"

"who gave you the right to speak? You're on trial for breaking Bad's space bar!" Quackity exclaims

"I got it working again!!"

"let's do the fork in the garbage disposal!"

cue spamming emotes and lagging your games til they crash 💀💀💀

"love yourself! accept yourself!"

you became a positivity priest while quackity became a drug dealer

really splitting this world into two sides now LMFAO

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #alex quackity x reader #quackityhq x reader #quackity oneshot #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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yamamasjumpercables · 3 months

Note

matt + y/n, matt goes to boston and he's really missing y/n so she goes to boston and surprises matt

My Boston Boy

Boyfriend!Matt x Girlfriend!Reader

Warning: kissing, Y/n and Matt being a little tease. Ass grabbing. That’s pretty much it🧍🏾‍♀️

a/n: hope you guys like this it took a while🫶🏾

Matt had went back to Boston with his brothers to visit their parents. It’s been 2 months, 4 weeks and 1 day. You and Matt both counted. If you two could have it any other way, you would’ve been with Matt and his brothers in Boston. Yet your boss thought you could work a couple more days before letting you take some days off (2 days to be exact). You were currently on your 30 minute break booking your tickets for Boston, but you had a better idea. So you made a quick FaceTime call to Nick. Nick answered with an ecstatic expression. “Hey Y/n!” Nick said happily. “Hey Nicki!!” You said laughing. “I wanted to talk to you about something” You said in a serious tone. “Ok what’s on your mind” Nick asked. “So I’m coming to Boston in 2 days but you can’t tell Matt, I want it to be a surprise” You said in a hushed tone. “Omg that sounds amazing, what do you want me to do” Nick asked. “I want you to keep him distracted the whole day, then I’ll text you to let you know when I get to your parents place” You ramble. “What are you gonna do?” Nick asked. “You’ll see” You said with a wink. Nick laughs “ok then let me know when your flight lands I’ll send you an Uber” Nick offered. “Aww thank you Nicki Pooh” You say adoringly. “Yeah Yeah, see you soon Y/n” Nick says waving bye. “Bye Bye” You say before hanging up the phone.

Your flight was at 6pm so you had time to get some of Matt’s favorite things and put it in your suitcase. You spent the hours you had to get all your stuff ready. After what felt like an eternity on a flight filled with either crying babies, kids kicking your seat, and the person next to you sleeping on your shoulder. You finally made it Boston. You shot a quick text to Nick telling him you landed and he immediately sent you an Uber to help you with your traveling troubles. You made it to his parents house, thank goodness Nick told his parents that you were coming over. You quickly set your bags in Nick’s room for the moment, only because his room was right by the kitchen. You quickly got out of your sweats and put on a cute but comfortable outfit, then throwing on your favorite lounge cardigan. After you finished setting up all the stuff you got for Matt on the kitchen island. You texted Nick telling him you were ready, Nick texted that he was on his way. After about 20 minutes you heard the front door unlock, so you took this time to hide from Matt in Nick’s room. “Nick I still don’t understand why you are covering my eyes”. Matt said annoyed. “You’ll see Matt just be patient” Nick said going up the last step walking to the kitchen. “Ok you can look now” Nick said taking his hand off of his younger brother’s face, trying to hold his excitement. “SURPRISE SHAWTY” You yell, running towards Matt jumping on him. Matt quickly caught you engulfing you in a heartfelt hug, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and his hands sliding down your waist to grip on your ass. “I missed you so much” You say muffled in his neck. “I missed you even more Ma” Matt says planting kisses on your cheek. Matt let’s go of your ass letting you land back on your feet. You grab Matt’s face and embrace him in a passionate kiss, while his hands move back to its position on your ass. “Ok ok you two I don’t want no little versions of you two running around” Nick says disgusted. “Nick why is Matt and Y/n sucking each other’s face off?” Chris says with a disgusted face. “Let’s take a walk” Nick says walking away from you and Matt. “Fine let’s stop by McDonald’s while we’re walking” Chris says while following Nick. “Sure whatever” Nick says walking out the door with Chris. After you and Matt were done kissing, Matt took time to admire the stuff you had bought him. “You really did all this for me?” Matt says grabbing you waist giving you small pecks on your neck. “Yes I did because I love you” You say admiring your work. “Well since you did all of this let me show you how much I appreciate you” Matt says in your ear, chills running down your spine. “What do you have in mind” You say turning around to face Matt, running your nails down his torso. “Let me show you” Matt says grabbing your hand.

I love you guys🫦💋 bon appetite 💐

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #yamamasjumpercables

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part eight

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

hope is a dangerous thing.

a/n: it’s heeeeeeeeere. full disclosure - it might be a few days until part 9 goes up; as far as I know, tonight’s ep shows some flashbacks which means I might have to do a bit of revamping! plus I really don’t wanna burn myself out with this one, there’s still so much ground to cover!!

word count: 4.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, yearning, nightmares, mentions/allusions to sex, if I missed something let me know.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

The days bleed into months, and before you know it, the snow comes. Winter.

You haven’t left the mall. Or, haven’t been allowed to leave the mall. Every time you cross paths with Cowan, it’s the same conversation.

“Let me through the gate.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You’re nothing if not persistent, but you try your best to make yourself useful. You and Deanna have formed some kind of friendship, and you help her out as much as you can. At first, you don’t know much about treating injuries besides the bit you remember from an old first aid course, so you pay close attention to her movements, handing her supplies when she needs it, taking her orders in stride.

She was an army nurse, you learn, and lost her husband long before the outbreak. “Just as well,” she told you, a sad smile on her face. “He barely came back to me after Vietnam. I don’t think he could have survived this.”

They never had kids, but she tells you her niece and nephew may as well have been her own. “They live in Cape Cod, on the coast.” Her face went dark. “Lived.” Then she looked at you. “You remind me of my niece, you know. Fierce little thing.”

She teaches you how to dress wounds and clean them, when something needs stitches and when glue will do, how to stretch the materials you have left as far as possible. When injured soldiers show up after the first snow, she puts you to work.

Cowan’s among them, a ricochet bullet in his shoulder. Deanna hasn’t shown you anything like that yet, and you balk a little as he pulls off his gear, blood pouring down his arm. “Wait here.”

You sprint across the floor to where Deanna is literally elbow-deep in another soldier who clearly hadn’t been as lucky as Cowan. “What d’you need, kid?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, spying a pair of forceps on the table nearby and grabbing them. “Just these. I’ll come help you after—”

“You go take care of Nicky,” she orders, her voice almost stern. “You don’t leave his side until you know he’s all right, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You sprint back to Cowan, finding him hunched over, hand pressed to his arm, blood staining his knuckles. You grab a pair of scissors from the tray beside you, hooking your arm under his shoulder and getting him upright. “Fuck!” he shouts, and you grit your teeth.

“Sorry.” You cut away his t-shirt, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between his fingers, and his other hand curls into a fist on the table. “What happened?”

“Bunch of runners,” he breathes out, and you yank his hand away from the wound quickly, replacing it with a thick scrap of towel, pressing your hand into his shoulder. He winces, tipping his head back. “Came right up over the fence.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I told you that chain link wouldn’t hold forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should run the world.” He meets your gaze, holds it. “You ask me to let you through the gate again, and I swear to god—”

“I wasn’t going to,” you say quickly. It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “But I want to help, if I can.”

The towel has already soaked through with his blood, and it makes your gut twist. “Help?”

“Teach me to shoot,” you say. You’re trying to distract him, and grab his hand, pressing it against the towel. “Hold this.”

“Bat’s not enough for you?”

“No, but the rifle I found in the sporting goods shop upstairs will definitely help,” you reply, grabbing the forceps and wiping them down with a bit of antiseptic. “Especially once I get out of here.”

Cowan stares at you, that hard gaze he’s become famous for. “Why d’you wanna get out of here so bad? You’re—”

“If you tell me I’m safe here, Corporal, I’m leaving that bullet in your shoulder.”

He actually laughs. “God, you are something else, you know that?”

You freeze, for a moment. Suddenly, you’re standing in your kitchen, in Austin. Joel Miller is handing you a bouquet of daisies and telling you you’re beautiful and kissing your cheek. The memory catches you off-guard, and you only come back down to earth when Cowan squeezes your wrist, peering at you.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply instantly, shaking your head. “We need to get that bullet out.”

You hold up the forceps, bracing your hand on his collar. “This isn’t gonna feel great, is it?”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t tickle,” you admit. “Is this the first time you’ve taken a bullet?”

“No. Second.”

“Pull this away, when I say,” you instruct, tapping the back of his hand. “I gotta be quick.”

“Have you done this before?”

You lift a shoulder, a nervous little laugh falling out of your mouth. “I watched Deanna do it a couple weeks back. It was in the guy’s gut though, not his shoulder.”

“Did he live?”

You go quiet. “Move your hand.” He hesitates. “Now, Cowan.”

He moves his hand, pulling the towel away, and you push the forceps in. The air seems to go completely still as you fish for the bullet. Cowan’s face is screwed up in pain, both hands curled around the edge of the cot, white-knuckled. “Did the guy live?”

“No,” you admit finally, feeling the soft clink of metal hitting metal. Bingo. “But we found a bite on his leg after, so the internal bleeding was probably the better way to go.” You twist the forceps, and he hisses in pain. “Tell me about the first time you got shot.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?” you quip, and he actually smiles.

“It was basic training,” he starts, and you nod, focusing on his shoulder. The forceps pinch around the bullet, and you pull ever so slightly. “My buddy and I were just fucking around. He didn’t know the thing was loaded.”

“He shot you on purpose?” you ask, brows raised. You pull a little more, making sure the grip holds.

“Not on purpose,” Cowan replies, and you can feel his eyes on your face. “We were just kids, then. Just screwing around, trying to fill the time. And now…”

“He still around?” you ask, prompting him further. “Your buddy.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “He moved to California, after we finished basic. I really hope he—motherfucker!”

You pull the bullet all the way out with a flourish, dropping the forceps onto the tray and grabbing a fresh piece of gauze. He hisses again when you press the new gauze to his shoulder, and you scoff. “Baby.”

“You just pulled a bullet out of me.”

“I’m aware,” you throw back, pressing a little harder. “I still think you’re a baby.”

He gives you the signature Stare before glancing down at his shoulder, taking over the pressure you’re holding, and you step away to get an actual roll of gauze. “Meet me at the south entrance tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.” You turn back, your brows raised. “To shoot, I mean. Bring the rifle. You have ammo?”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Yeah, managed to find a few boxes.”

“Good.”

You nod, unable to hide the grin that pulls your lips. “Good.”

They’re somewhere near Nashville. He thinks; Tommy’s been navigating, Joel’s just been following his brother. The weather has held up mostly, but now they’re holed up in some shack Tommy found in the woods, hiding from the rain. It’s been constant, nearly three days now, and Joel can’t fucking sleep.

He hasn’t slept well since they left Austin, not that he expected to. The few beds they’ve found have been heaven, but every time he closes his eyes, the dreams come, and he’s reliving that night all over again. Doesn’t matter how many days go by, and he knows it doesn’t matter at all how much time passes. He’s never gonna forget.

He took first watch, told Tommy to get some shuteye and parked himself on the front porch, watching the rain slide of the metal roof, pooling in front of the shack, running downhill like a river. There’s mud caked on his boots, and he feels dirty down to his bones. It’s been a few days since they had real shelter, though, and he revels in the silence, being away from the main roads.

But the silence lets his mind wander, and when that happens, it lands on you, more often than not. Sarah is always there, in the back of his head, the sound of her voice forcing him further, but when he gets a moment alone — a rarity now — he lets himself remember you.

Your last conversation still haunts him. The fear in your voice, the way you’d sounded so out of it when you first picked up, and he’d brought you back down, focused you. Patch yourself up. Take what you can and go. Get the hell out of Boston.

I’ll find you, baby.

Sometimes, the hope invades his heart like a disease, branching through his limbs and making his chest ache with it. He has to hope that you made it out, that you’re alive somewhere, that your paths are leading straight towards each other. Every time they come over a hill or turn a corner, he feels that tug in his gut, a quiet promise that this time, you’ll be heading straight towards him, a big smile on your face.

But Joel knows that hope is a dangerous thing to let in, to nurture. As hard as he wishes you alive, he knows the opposite is more than likely. He sees it when he does manage to get some sleep, nightmares infiltrating his brain until he wakes up panting, the phantom feeling of his daughter’s blood on his skin melting away far too slowly.

Right now, he’s forcing himself to remember the good.

That last week, before you’d left for Boston. He took you to that open field every night, almost, held you in his arms, kept you close and never let your mouth get too far from his. He’d buried his face in your neck and memorized the smell of you, the feel of you, the taste.

You pulled on his hand, led him away from the truck and into the open field. You laid down in the grass side by side, the sound of crickets and the soft wind the only thing you could hear. He’d leaned over you, cupped your cheek in his palm, rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You kissed his fingers, giggling when he rolled himself on top of you a moment later, his mouth chasing yours.

He planted his hands either side of your head and you reached for his belt, dragging your hands down his chest. He could feel your heartbeat, when he pressed himself against you, the twitch of your knees along his ribs as you held him closer. That’s how it always was between you two, who could get the other closer, how much could you pull until the space between no longer existed?

Joel still remembers the noise you made when he pushed into you, right there in the grass. The way you’d dug your nails into his back so fucking hard it made him moan louder, the sound echoing through the night. The blissful smile on your face as the pleasure ripped through you, and Joel felt it, the tightness of your body, the way he could taste it on your tongue.

God, he loved you so goddamned much.

A clap of thunder yanks him out of his head, and he flinches hard, the gun in his lap sliding onto the wooden porch. He’s on his feet in a moment, shoving both hands through his hair, and without another thought, he steps out from under the shelter of the roof. The rain pelts him instantly, soaking through his clothes, making goosebumps rise on his arms.

It feels good. He tilts his face towards the sky, feels the water drip down his arms.

He hears your voice, in his head. What you said that night, under the stars, laid out on his chest, your eyes glassy. “I won’t ever stop thinking about you, Joel Miller. Not for a million years.”

He never should have let you leave Austin. Not in a million years.

Cowan stays true to his word. He teaches you to shoot, not just the rifle you’d stolen from the mall, but other guns, too. Shows you some tricks with the hunting knife you’d found in Dean’s bag, even teaches you how to build a fire. You stop asking him to let you through the gate, and he stops giving you the Stare. After a few lessons, he starts bringing you along on patrols. You carry the rifle and the bat, the hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The temperature is dropping, the snow sticking consistently, and the UPS jacket you’d stolen months back comes in handy, keeping you warmer than you expect.

There’s not much conversation to be had between you two, and when you do talk, it’s light shit. You avoid the subject of families, partners and the like. You mostly talk about music, and you laugh the hardest you have in a long time when Cowan admits to you that he’s seen the Backstreet Boys in concert three separate times. You’re bent in half with laughter, tears in your eyes, and he starts laughing along with you.

The laughter stops, however, when you circle back to the mall. There are four trucks outside, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see Deanna step through the doors. Everyone else who’d been inside, faces you recognize, people you’ve met, they’re all coming out of the mall. Deanna has blood on her scrubs, a strange look in her eye.

“McCoy!” Cowan calls once you’re close enough, and a soldier turns. “What’s going on?”

Both the soldiers step to the side, and you make a bee-line for Deanna, swinging your rifle onto your back. “What happened?”

The older woman looks shaken, and she grabs you once you’re close enough, her hands digging into the sleeves of your coat. “T-Tim,” she stutters, and your brow hardens. You know who she’s talking about; Tim, his wife Marcy, their two kids. Their cots weren’t far from yours in the department store. You’d helped their youngest son, Henry, when he’d cracked his forehead on the tile, tripped on his own feet chasing his little sister, Emily, around the mall. Hell, you’d had dinner with them just the night prior, you and Tim had made the kids giggle slurping your noodles. “He just…” Deanna trails off, and fear twists your stomach in an iron vice.

“Are the kids okay?”

She nods furiously, still holding onto you tightly. “But…but Marcy, she…he just…” She looks back towards the mall, gestures for a moment before clapping her hand over her mouth. “I’d never seen one up close before.”

Deanna collapses into your arms, and you hug her tightly, half worried she’s passed out, but the worry passes when you feel her hands fist in the back of your jacket. Over her shoulder, you see a soldier leading Henry and Emily outside. Henry still has a bandaid on his forehead, and Emily is clutching his hand, tear tracks on her face. Your heart aches.

“I’m gonna go with them,” Deanna tells you, pulling away after a moment, and you just nod. She jogs after the kids, and you turn back to where Cowan and McCoy are still talking. Cowan has a hard look on his face, and his jaw tightens as you approach.

“What the hell is going on?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be safe in the mall, Corporal. That’s what you said. I could have been halfway to Texas by now. Hell, I could have been in Texas by now.”

“I know what I said,” he bites back before heaving a sigh. “We got an update, from FEDRA HQ.”

You lift a brow. “And?”

He glances at the stream of people still filing out of the mall. “The fungus, the thing that’s causing this, it’s in the food. We need to check everything that was in the mall, everything that was handed out. Production dates, expiry dates, it’ll give us an idea of what needs to be destroyed, but—”

“But there’s a chance everyone in there ate something contaminated,” you finish, swallowing back the bile that rises in your mouth. “There’s a chance we’re all already infected.”

Cowan’s throat bobs. “Yes.”

“What do we do now, then?” you ask, jutting your chin towards the people filling the street outside the mall. “Where do we go? Standing around here like this, it’s just gonna attract them.”

“There are buildings that have been deemed safe,” McCoy tells you, and Cowan just nods. “The quarantine zone has been marked off. We take everyone there, separate you for now, keep an eye out for anyone changing.”

Cowan nods. “Check everyone for bites, again.” He meets your eyes for a moment before calling for two other soldiers. He starts barking orders, and you turn to McCoy.

“I thought the city was the quarantine zone.”

He shakes his head. “Too much space. FEDRA gave us the borders, showed us where to go. The walls’ll go up soon, and we’ll be that much safer.”

You balk. “More chain link bullshit?”

McCoy shakes his head again. “No, ma’am. Bricks. Guard towers, barbed wire. The whole kit and caboodle.”

You swallow hard. Shit.

The chain link stays up. The walls of the quarantine zone press deeper into the city, and as promised, you’re shuffled into apartment buildings. There’s still blood everywhere you look, damaged ceilings, broken windows. It’s not perfect by any stretch, but the building itself is intact, and that’s apparently good enough for FEDRA.

They put you in separate units, the number of survivors taking up less than half the building. You stay with Deanna and the kids. Emily clings to your side, her arms wrapped around your leg more often than not. She hasn’t said a word since you left the mall.

The soldiers patrol the streets and the hallways, and after a week, six more people turn. They’re put down without a second thought, their bodies carried out of the building. The food supplies are carted from the mall to a warehouse within the new zone limits, and everything that was given to you is taken back for inspection. It’s a lot of waiting, of pacing the floor of your new home, of trying to come up with ways to distract the kids from what’s happening.

Shortly after you’d been evacuated from the mall, they’d brought out Tim and Marcy’s bodies, and your hands had started to shake violently when you saw the blood on Tim’s face, the deep gouge in his wife’s throat. Bullets in both their skulls. It had all happened so fast.

And you’d been eating the same things they had.

The worry gnaws at your stomach. You’d protested, at first, when Deanna insisted you come with them. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t bear to see the pain on the older woman’s face deepen when you admitted you feared the worst. She still managed to pull it out of you, later that night, after you’d put the kids to sleep in the only bedroom, the pair of you sitting at the kitchen table.

“If it happens, it happens, kid,” she said, gripping your hand tightly. “And we deal with it. That’s all we can do.” You’d nodded, and she’d reached into her bad, producing a bottle of gin. “Something to take the edge off.” You nodded again.

A week passed, the six were put down, and you were safe. Your mind started to wander. Trucks filled with construction material arrived at the edges of the quarantine zone every day; you could see them from the apartment. More FEDRA soldiers, some venturing into the city to find usable materials. Soon enough, the wall was starting to take shape.

And if the wall went all the way up, that meant you were never getting out of Boston. Never getting the opportunity to find your family, or Joel.

But, the wall has only just begun, which means there are still holes in the boundary, and with more soldiers assigned to the quarantine zone itself, that means the chain link is left unguarded, for the most part.

They announce curfew hours and the consequences for breaking those hours, and you start planning. Collecting things, weapons and food that won’t spoil, refilling your first aid kit. You take what ammo you can find, nicking a few boxes from the FEDRA tents when no one’s paying attention. You still have the maps from the bookstore, your hastily-drawn path still marked on the pages.

You wait for nightfall, and you run.

You leave Deanna a note, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’ll try to send a message that you’re safe, once you are. The kids are fast asleep, and you kiss their heads before you go.

Your path through the city leads you right past your apartment, and your heart nearly stops. The entire front of the building has been exploded inward, no doubt a result of the bombings. If you look hard, you can see the edge of your living room, behind the twisted rebar and broken bricks. You want to linger, but you don’t, the shout of an Infected pushing you forward, gripping the bat tightly.

The construction of the wall left a lot of tools laying around, and it was all too easy to find a pair of large wire cutters. You found a piece of chain link in an alley within the quarantine zone, and tested it out. Sure enough, a clean cut.

There are still patrols along the chain link, but they’re more sporadic. The guard posts have been dismantled, dragged further inwards, set up again along the new walls. You see a soldier pass by the spot you’re aiming for, and wait until he’s completely out of sight before bolting across the pavement to the fence, pulling out the wire cutters.

You have one foot through when you hear a familiar voice.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Cowan’s kept his distance, since you moved into the building. It bothers you and doesn’t at the same time. But in a way, you got what you wanted from him; you’re more confident that you could make it beyond the fence now. Especially with the rifle strapped to your back.

Your head drops, and you pull your leg back out, straightening and turning on your heel towards him. “You really thought I wouldn’t try it?”

“I really didn’t think you were this stupid,” he shoots back, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. You will die out there, why don’t you get that?”

You grip the chain link, the metal rattling beneath your shaking fingers. “I can’t just sit around here for the rest of my life, Cowan.”

“So you’d rather waste it, out there?” He gestures towards the fence with his rifle, to what lays beyond. “What good will that do? You’re smart, you know there’s a good chance your family is dead.”

“But until I know—” you start, and your voice betrays you, cracking on the word. You swallow hard. “Why can’t you just let me go? What difference does it make?”

His strange dark eyes narrow at you. They’re blue, you’ve come to learn, but a dark shade that sometimes looks black. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.” You open your mouth to protest, and he lifts a hand. “Come with me first; if you still want to leave afterward, then I’ll take you through myself.”

You stare at him for a long moment before slinging your bag from your shoulders, pulling out a length of rope. You thread it through the split fence, yanking the metal back into place and tying it off. Once you’re done, you get back to your feet, and when Cowan turns to leave, you follow.

He takes you back to the quarantine zone. A few soldiers shoot you looks, since you’re out past curfew, but Cowan waves them all off. “She’s with me.”

You keep following him, heart hammering in your throat as he leads you into one of the buildings they’ve cleared out. Down a long hallway, a few more soldiers giving you looks, before Cowan ducks through a doorway, waving at you to follow.

“What is this?”

There are tables everywhere, cords spilling out of boxes, hooked along the walls. On the walls, all sorts of maps and notices, FEDRA orders staring back at you. A soldier sits in the middle of it all, headphones hooked over her ears, twisting the knobs on a gigantic radio, adjusting the antenna. When she sees you and Cowan standing there, she pulls off the headphones, a grin on her face. “Hey, Nick.”

“Melissa,” he nods, and juts his thumb towards you. “Can you set it for the Austin base? And give us a sec?”

She just nods, her face falling slightly, and twists more of the knobs. Her brow furrows a bit until she gets the right frequency, and then she gets up out of her chair, holds the headphones towards you. “Hit the red button to talk, and let go once you’re done, or else they can’t talk back.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the headset from her. You look at Cowan. “What is…?”

“It’ll connect you with the FEDRA base in Austin. You can give them the names, of the people you’re looking for. They’ll be able to tell you if they’re in the shelters there. If they’re not there, there’s no telling if they’re alive or dead, but at least you’ll know if they’re safe or not.”

Your brow furrows. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“I can’t reassure you,” Cowan says bluntly, and as you sink into the chair, he perches on the desk beside you. “No one can. The world is a fucking minefield, and while yes, I’ll admit you’re a good shot and you clearly know what you’re doing with that bat, you will die out there. If your family isn’t still in Austin, I can almost guarantee you, they are dead.”

You rip your eyes from his face, turning your gaze to the radio, the little flashing lights and the knobs. “You don’t know that.”

There’s a hand under your chin a second later, and Cowan turns your face towards him again, drags your eyes back to his. “I meant what I said. If you still want to leave, I will take you through the gate myself, no more bullshit. But talk to the base first. Find out if they’re still there before you throw your life away on hope.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

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sinkingteethinwhitenoise · 5 months

Text

Use Me, Sir - Nicholas Ruffilo (18+)

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT NSFW MDNI, Free Use, Dom!Nicholas, Sub!Reader, Spit, Color System if you squint, Hair Pulling, Oral, unprotected p in v, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Use of Sir

A/N: Just a fun little one shot for Nicky's birthday. Enjoy!

You set your book on your nightstand and turned over in bed to face him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around you as you faced him. “What’s up baby?” he asked, setting his phone to the side and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

A mischievous grin spread across your features. “You know how we’ve talked about free use?”

His eyebrows raised and eyes widened. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I can’t forget talking about that.”

“Let’s try it,” you grinned. “Tomorrow. For your birthday. I’ll be your own personal toy. I’ll be there whenever you want for whatever you want.”

Obviously he agreed to it. What man wouldn’t?

The next morning, you snuck out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen to make him a nice breakfast. You thought you had been quiet enough not to wake him. As you began to get the stuff out, you felt hands on your hips and hot breath on your neck. You let out a gasp of surprise. You must not have been as sneaky as you thought.

You felt Nicholas’ tongue gently lap over your pulse point. “Color?” he rasped, voice rough from sleep. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of your sleep shorts.

You let out a shaky breath, arousal already beginning to pool in your panties. “Green, sir,” you sighed, leaning your head back to give his warm, roaming tongue better access to your neck.

He hummed against your skin and pulled your shorts and panties down in one go. Nicholas pulled away from you, “Shirt off.” You obeyed, wasting no time. His lips returned to your skin, this time on your shoulder blade as he kissed down your back, forcing you to bend over the counter with one hand pressed flat on your back and the other gripping your hip.

Soon enough he was on his knees behind you. His calloused hands glided across your skin until they were both covering your ass. He gave the flesh a rough squeeze before pulling them apart and letting them go again, just to watch it jiggle. You let out an impatient whine, which resulted in a quick smack to the side of your thigh. “Be patient, princesa.”

You bit your lip to force your desperate noises down, trying your best to wait patiently. It finally paid off. You felt two fingers slip through your soaking folds before they ghosted circles on your clit. “You’re soaked,” he groaned. “Such a dirty girl. So wet just from waiting for me to fuck you like a toy.”

Before you could say anything, he plunged his two fingers into you. Your walls instantly clenching around his digits as a desperate mewl fell from your bitten lips. He didn’t pump his fingers. Instead, he just alternated between scissoring and curling them at a lightning speed. He had your legs trembling and weak within seconds as he tried to prepare you for his girth. Your arousal was gushing out around his fingers and running down onto his hand and wrist.

The sounds you were making were unrecognizable. High pitched moans, whimpers, and sobs filled the room as the coil in your belly began to tighten. “S-Sir,” you gasped. “Gonna c-cum!”

With your warning came instant emptiness. A sob of protest left your lips, your body trembling as you had been on the very cusp of your release. Tears sprung to your eyes and you tried to catch your breath. Nicholas stood up and turned you around to face him. He made eye contact with you and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste. He released his fingers with a pop. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned.

He reached into his pajama bottoms and pulled his cock out. No matter how many times you saw it, it never failed to gasp. He was just so…big. Almost unnaturally big. He gave it a few pumps with his hand, still slightly slick with your juices, before nodding at you, “Spit on it.”

You leaned forward until your mouth was right above his cock. You let your saliva slowly drip down onto his hand and cock, providing that extra lubricant that he needed. He spread it around with a grunt. “Good fucking girl,” he groaned as he fisted his cock faster. “Bend over.”

“Yes, sir,” you turned back around and bent over the counter once again as fast as you could. You felt his palm press into your back and the tip of his cock running through your folds before he began to slowly push in. You threw your head back with a loud moan, the fire you felt in your core all consuming. The stretch burned. The stretch hurt. But in the best way.

He eased his way in until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Your warm, wet walls clenched and fluttered around him as you attempted to adjust to his size. While he usually gave you a moment to do so, this time he went all in. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, quick and with a strong force. You nearly screamed at the sensation. He kept thrusting, his thrusts fast, somehow hitting deeper and deeper inside of you with each one.

Tears began to run down your face as he pounded into you relentlessly. You felt one of his hands settle in your hair and grip it tightly. He yanked you up until your back was pressed against his chest, never letting up on his speed or power. His tongue darted out to catch one of your tears. “Aw, what’s ‘a matter, princesa?” he chuckled condescendingly in your ear. “Can’t take it? You suggested this. You better take it.”

Your jaw dropped in a silent scream and your eyes rolled back. “I-I can take it,” you whimpered. “H-Hurts so good sir!” You were right at the edge again, your cunt pulsing and fluttering, your stomach tightening. Just as you were about to warn him, he pulled out. Yet another pained sob left you at the loss.

With his hand still in your hair he guided you down onto the floor, on your knees in front of him. He stood above you, his other hand on his cock that was coated in your arousal. You looked up at him with parted lips and bleary eyes. He tapped the sticky, wet head against your cheek, and then your lips. You stuck your tongue out as if it were an instinct. He tapped your tongue with his cock before beginning to slide it in. He stretched your mouth so much that it hurt, but the salty, musky taste of his skin mixed with the tangy sweetness of your own cunt made it worth it. His grip on your hair tightened as he began to fuck into your mouth.

You gagged and moaned around him loudly. Drool pooled at the corners of your lips and dripped down your chin. You looked up at him through your lashes as heavy tears streamed down your face.

“Take it, take it all,” he grunted. “You like how that tastes, my dirty girl? You taste good, huh?”

You couldn’t only whine and gag around him in response. He then slid his cock in as far as it would go, reveling in the gagging sounds you made as you choked on him. Finally, he pulled out, leaving you a coughing, sputtering, sloppy mess. He pulled you back up by your hair and bent you over the counter once more. Once you’d barely caught your breath, Nicholas slammed back inside of you and continued his relentless pace.

The sounds of slapping skin, grunts, and moans filled the kitchen. Nicholas reached a hand down to your clit and began to rub quick circles into the bundle of nerves. “Let go, princesa.”

That’s all you needed before you finally reached that euphoric state. You swore you almost blacked out as you came around him. His thrusts got sloppier as he was close himself. He buried himself as deep inside of you as possible as he released his load with a deep moan, head falling into your shoulder as his body shook with the intensity.

You both were breathing heavily when he finally pulled out. His cum began to leak out of you, getting all over your shaky inner thighs. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Don’t think we won’t continue this a bit later,” Nicholas said with a wink before kissing your cheek and walking off to the bathroom, leaving you stunned and sore. You realized that you should’ve invested in some frozen peas.

#bad omens #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens smut #sinkingteethinwhitenoise #happy birthday nicholas #happy nicholas day

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chronically-ghosted · 3 months

Text

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not.

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it.

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips – – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit –

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering –

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing.

– sharp inhale then a cough –

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call.

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait –

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking–

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn?

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars.

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama.

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit.

They’ll eat it up.

Fuck yeah, they will.

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place.

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man.

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean.

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh?

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack –

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now.

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee.

Not a good –

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine.

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot.

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets.

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways.

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you.

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We.

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it.

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens –

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list.

Goddamn Burger King . . .

The front doorbell rings.

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder.

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because –

“Uncle Dee?”

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell –

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave.

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,”

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place.

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.”

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,”

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected.

He chews on his lip.

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.”

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls.

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl –

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile?

And, holy shit, those tits –

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico.

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,”

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt.

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?”

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.”

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside.

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation.

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies?

No. Not at all.

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.”

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.”

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.”

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.”

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.”

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.”

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you.

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.”

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks.

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact.

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo.

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over.

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not.

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts.

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet.

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm.

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese.

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.”

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife.

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge.

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread.

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.”

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language.

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top.

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them.

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date —

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter.

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy.

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again.

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?”

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering.

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.”

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages.

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.”

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner.

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it.

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting.

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles.

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when–

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich.

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.”

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.”

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain.

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face.

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?”

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass.

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies.

Not that any of that would be happening with you.

He wasn’t a complete monster after all.

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand.

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.”

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt.

“Such a gentleman.”

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips.

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep — try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.”

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.”

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch.

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions.

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.”

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote.

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips.

“No fucking way, I love this movie.”

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?”

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day.

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest.

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!”

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies.

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands.

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.”

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees.

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.”

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that.

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice.

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones.

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over.

The movie goes on.

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt.

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves—

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up — it’s like you meant for them to be there.

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down.

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle.

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again.

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs.

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.”

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front.

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks.

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table.

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails.

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table.

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.”

Just the two of us.

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you.

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?”

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile.

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn.

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter.

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.”

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place.

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.”

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling.

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears.

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.”

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded.

And you’re giving it to him, right now.

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing.

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled.

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man.

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf.

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction

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dawnagustd · 2 years

Text

MU$IC FAIRY || MYG

❃ Festivaled Away: Burned Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤞ Ticket: Playlist ⤞ Main Event: Based on a Playlist ⤞ Games: fucking playlist | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation

Read on AO3

Thank you for completing our questionnaire. Please stay on the line and allow us to find you the perfect match…

With a few basic questions and a two minute wait, he was paired with a woman that sounds rather beautiful. He imagines that she is, at least. Well, he hopes.

He’s been chatting with her for about an half of a minute, and he’s feeling her. So he doesn’t hang up when the official timer begins.

“So umm…how confidential is this?” He can never be too careful. This could ruin his reputation if someone found out. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, it’s safe, love. Trust me.”

He hopes you’re right.

“After you complete the questionnaire, they pair you with a random person who has similar preferences.”

He pushes the worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind and proceeds to pleasure himself before time is up. He’s currently living paycheck to paycheck, so fifteen minutes was all he could afford.

“Should I lead or…?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I got it, babe. Just vibe with me.”

“Okay.” Your response is through small labored breaths. You must be broke as shit too because you aren’t wasting any time. “C-Can you put on some music or something?...I umm, can’t do it when it’s this quiet.”

He grabs his laptop and allows whatever track is next to travel through the speakers.

Fuck. He forgot about the beats he was playing for someone earlier. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your mood before he can change it. “Sorry,” he mutters a bit embarrassed.

“No, this is fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sensual,” you pant. His brows knit together in curiosity and he momentarily ceases his movements. “The bass complements your voice well, actually. Did you umm…?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I like it.” The little moan behind those words has him standing at attention. In any second, he could blow his load.

“Yeah? What else do you like?...Tell me what gets your attention.”

There’s a pause. “Or would you rather me shut up?”

“The opposite. I wanna hear you…your voice. You sound hot,” you giggle and it’s one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You don’t sound bad either…Just hearing you laugh is making me hard.”

He hears a whimper; one of the sexiest, neediest whines to ever grace his ears. “Tell me what you just did. Don’t be shy.”

“I—”

You hesitate, so he steps in.

“Touching your pussy, huh?”

He senses through the phone how worked up he’s getting you. You’ve started panting and moaning out your words shamelessly.

“Mmhm, my clit.”

He chuckles and whispers of curses come through the phone.

“Do me a favor?” you agree and he continues. “Move a little lower and dip your fingers in your pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

He uses his spit for lubrication and tightens his fist around his cock. He imagines it was your walls snuggled around him, pumping his length as you bounce up and down. Something inside of him believes that you’re pretty, with a nice ass too. A really nice ass, that’s what his fantasies project at least.

“Fuck. How many?” you ask him.

Damn. You’re obedient as well. That’s hot, really hot.

“As many as your pretty cunt can take.”

When he hears a muffled cry, his bottom lips tucks between his teeth while he concentrates on the squelching sounds coming through the phone. You both move in sync with the music and allow it to take away the nervous jitters the both of you had previously. His cock starts twitching in his palm when your sweet little moans move through his ears.

“How many did you use, sweetheart?”

You answer him in a high-pitched voice. You’re close too, he can hear it. Your eyes are probably screwed shut, trying to keep it together to prolong the call, but he has to go before his bill skyrockets. He needs to get you off—quickly.

“Two. Three, now. I needed more.”

“Greedy, aren’t we?”

“No…I’m just really horny.”

He has to smile at that. “Yeah? Me too. This is good, but I'd rather be balls deep in you.”

“Fuck, I’d like it.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand and keeps going. The music has changed to something more upbeat and he knows this is his shot for home plate.

“Really? Is that why you’re making a mess? I can hear it, you know...you’re so fucking wet.”

“Shit, I wanna come,” your words are barely recognizable and you just keep begging him for more, “please help me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take your fingers out and rub your clit. Spread that sticky shit all over it and get yourself off.”

He throws his head back and curls his toes, bracing himself for the impact of his orgasm. This has to top he sexual encounters and he’s not even touching you. It’s just something about you that’s driving him insane. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need to, not when all that matters now is the pleasure of this experience.

“I’d lick it all up too, eat you out until you cry and forget your own fucking name. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’d let me take you anyway I’d like, wouldn’t you?...I could bend you over? Dick you down with your legs pinned by your head. I fuck you up, princess and you’d never want another.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Dead silence.

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!”

The phone hangs up just as you both reach your climaxes. Disappointment is thick in the air as his quick strokes gradually begin to slow. He groans and curses angrily at the loss, and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. Out of all the people for this to happen to; it had to be him. Just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse, this happens and proves that life is just out to get him.

“Something’s gotta give, man. I can’t keep living like this.”

So, he shrugs off his needs and does what he does best—work. He puts on his headphones and hopes that one of these tracks will be the one that opens the door to all of his dreams.

Two years later…

“This is your boy Jay Millz, and you're listening to Q107.9. We got my man Suga in the motherfuckin’ building. This guy has the hottest track on the radio right now, bro. He’s gonna be chilling with us for a minute while we dip into the Rush Hour Mix with DJ Reign. Suga! How you doin’, man?...”

He nods and greets the guy behind the mic. They extend their arms for a brief handshake before he continues. “What’s good? Glad to be here, man.”

Yoongi looks around the table and sighs. He’s tired of the same fucking questions.

What’s next for you? How does it feel to be the hottest rapper out right now? Will you sign with SlaughterHouse Records?

As if he’d leave a crumb behind for the tabloids to fight over. Yoongi’s been careful; really careful. He’s worked hard to maintain a decent reputation; besides a few run-ins with the law. But overall, he’s avoided anything that could damage the image he’s created for his pseudo.

Many have tried to tear him down, or trip him up. However, he knows how to handle those people, and that’s what he’s about to do when the woman across from him asks the question lingering on the tip of her tongue. He knows it’s coming; he can tell by the way her nails tap on the table. She waits for silence and then she goes for the kill.

“So…Suga, you know I have to ask.”

The other co host sighs with an exhausted eyeroll. “Bee, please don’t start.”

“I have to. The people wanna know,” she argues and Yoongi can feel his head starting to throb.

It’s bad enough that he hates these things and they cannot stop themselves from trying to dabble in his personal life.

“Anyway, are you currently dating anyone, Suga? A fan? A girlfriend?...etc?”

Yoongi looks to his left and gives her a lazy smirk, just fucking with her mind a bit before he responds.

“Nahh, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, you feel me?”

He takes a sip from his cup and savors the cold liquor before he gulps it down, watching the poor girl slump her shoulders in defeat. However, he was a fool to think this was over.

“And what about Mu$ic Fairy?” the interviewer to his right asks.

“What about her?”

He sets down his cup and turns in the man’s direction.

“She dropped a new playlist last night. I know a lot of us would have gone to see about that by now.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Well, I’m not a lot of us, am I?”

“Damn right,” Jay chimes in from across the table. He notices Bee shaking her head in the corner and he couldn’t agree with her more. This is ridiculous.

This girl, “Mu$ic Fairy” or whatever she calls herself is nothing but a fucking distraction. No one can resist bringing her up when he’s in the room. There’s no fucking escape.

At first, it was cute. A few Spotify playlists dropped every once in a while with a rather risqué cover just to tease, but now it’s an entire movement. Some fans are even calling themselves fairies, and wearing themed attire to his performances.

He fucking hates it. The wings, the glitter, the overly sweet tones in which they speak. Of course, he appreciates his fans and they’re fun to look at, but Yoongi’s a picky guy. And if that’s the kind of girl you are, then you aren’t his type.

“I would’ve probably hit her up after she dropped the Fre@kii Ho @nthem! playlist.”

Jay bumps fists with the other guy host after he says that and they have a “same” moment.

Bee adds her input after it quiets down.

“Well, I’m going to have to agree with—”

“Do not…say her name around me,” Yoongi intervenes.

He can’t; not when he has a show tonight. Just hearing her name pisses him off.

Another reason he hates doing interviews is because someone always has to mention…

“Oh, are you talking about that podcaster?...Damn, what’s her name…”

Jay struggles to remember while snapping his fingers, so Bee attempts to help him out. However, Yoongi cuts her off before she can speak of the devil.

“Don’t you dare.”

The woman once again backs down and carries on.

“Well anyway, I agree with you know who. She makes valid points about how none of these people were after him before he started making industry music. They don’t really fuck with the real Suga.”

Yoongi only nods his head because the annoying bitch behind that podcast is right. This Mu$ic Fairy chick started showing up when he became popular and so did her followers. But that’s about one of the only things he agrees with. Everything else is out of line. This woman doesn’t know anything about him, but yet always has an input to give when it comes to his music.

One of the interviewers notices his change in demeanor and senses the hatred he has for this chick. He steps in and changes the subject quickly.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time. That’s what happens when you’re chillin’ with one of the greatest to ever do it.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nahh, man. Don’t put that on me yet. Give me some time.”

“Many would have to disagree with you there, bro. Matter of fact, you should ask them. Why don’t you tell the listeners where you’re gonna be tonight?”

“Yuh, tonight you can catch me at the Varsity. Tickets sold out, but yeah…fuck with me.”

The interviewers briefly share a round of applause before Jay concludes.

“Alright. You heard him. Tickets sold out, but who knows ladies…he might just take you home for the after party, right bro?”

Yoongi can only press his lips in a straight line because anyone that knows him, knows that a piece of ass is the last thing on his mind right now, but for the sake of some poor girl’s imagination…

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

And because of this, he’s probably going to have to fight his way out of the club.

The rush Yoongi gets from being on stage always lingers in his veins even after the music stops. The crowd keeps the energy going and going. They scream his name, applaud his techniques, and praise his stage presence like he’s a king. He is, in a way. Suga is the king of this city; there isn’t a guy who doesn’t want to be him or a woman who doesn’t want to fuck him.

Typically, temptation is easy to resist since his career leaves him little time for extracurricular activities. However, sometimes he just can’t allow something to slip away. Not again.

“You killed it tonight, man.”

Yoongi doesn’t even spare his manager a glance as he brushes past him. His train of vision is focused on that little black dress swaying through the crowd. If he takes his eyes off of you for a second, he knows he’ll lose you in the mass of people.

“Thanks, dude. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

He doesn’t know what was said in response because he’s out of range within seconds. He’s a man on a mission, and he’s not even sure of why.

You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that—and sexy. But something else about you is just luring him in, and he thinks he knows why. At least, that’s his excuse for following you outside of the club.

It’s dangerous, of course, since anyone could be waiting to get him alone. But tonight he can’t let you just leave without a word. He’s done that too many times. You show up to show after show, stare him down as if he’s your last meal, then leave without even a wave or goodbye.

Yoongi’s had enough; this ends now.

“Hey!”

You immediately stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. He wastes no time trying to eliminate the distance between you, but you dash down an adjacent alley before he can get close enough to talk to you.

He follows you, and calls out to you one more time before you halt and finally respond to him.

“Hey there.”

Your voice is so dulcet, but edgy…and familiar. Where has he heard it before?

“Looking for me?” The closer he gets the more clearer the sound becomes and eventually it clicks. He knows exactly why he knows your voice.

But you aren’t the person he thought you were, and you’re the last person he wants to see.

“You’re that podcaster, aren’t you?” Yoongi questions, approaching you carefully. At least his mind still holds the common sense to be cautious.

When you look over shoulder, it’s like his breath leaves his body. He’s seen his share of gorgeous women, but you are out of this world. There’s no way you could be her. But everything is telling him that you are.

“Depends…who wants to know?”

Yoongi doesn’t know where to look first. Your face or the body that comes along with it. “You or the bitches who want to be like me?”

The moment he’s close enough to hear the cockiness oozing from your voice, he knows it’s you without a doubt. He can feel the same aura radiating from you now that he does whenever he listens to those podcasts. You’re her; he’s a hundred percent sure of it.

“So you’re bold behind the mic, but now you’re too pussy to look at me?”

You turn around on queue, adorning a wide smirk that he’d give anything to wipe off your gorgeous face. “Better?”

Yoongi nods slowly and takes a few steps towards you. With every step he takes you move backwards, allowing him to corner you and in the dimly lit alley.

“It’s funny because with all the shit you talk on air, I didn’t take you to be a runner,” he points out.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to assume that, love.”

“But you know me well enough to critique my music?”

You hum. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” When your back nearly touches the brick wall, he leans in a little closer. You show no signs of uneasiness so he plants his palm on brick structure and hovers over your shorter frame. “What makes you believe that?”

“Because I’ve been a fan for a very long time. Ever since your underground days. You’ve never noticed me…but I was there.”

When he gives you a look, you roll your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe a word that pretty mouth of yours spits out.

“Your first real gig was on your birthday. You were a senior in high school and you invited your parents to the show. You looked around and when you finally saw them you smiled like a fucking dork.”

Damn. You read him like a book, but that doesn’t make up for the negativity spilled on your behalf.

“So you’ve been following me to shows so you can build up the repertoire for your little podcast? For how long?”

You shake your head in denial.

“I followed you because you’ve always been my favorite artist. I admire you, and I’ve been around since the beginning. Even when nobody was fucking with your music…your real music. The kind you’re passionate about.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like you would know anything about that.”

“But, I do. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. All you make is industry music now, and I’m just…bored, I guess.”

You’re cute when you shrug your shoulders, but your eyes are lethal. He feels like he’s being stripped bare under your gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were silently flirting with him, but they’d be a reach.

“So find a hobby,” he suggests.

“I did find hobbies. The podcast, the playlists, the—”

“Wait,” Yoongi’s face contorts with confusion at those words, believing that he’s misheard you, “...you said playlists. What playlists?”

Your smirk returns and Yoongi suddenly feels his cock slowly rising in his underwear. Why do the heavens place the demons in the most beautiful women; he’ll never understand.

“You know which playlists I’m talking about, love…” your hand makes a move to touch his shoulder but he grabs your arm to prevent contact, “they were made for you.”

“Made for me? What does…”

Oh, damn.

“Are you…?”

“Well, it sure isn’t the whore in there dressed like Tinkerbell. You think I’d wear that shit?” Your laugh is so intoxicating; he almost cracks a smile just standing there watching you. “I don’t need all of that to grasp your attention. I never have.”

Yoongi shakes his head. All this time you were right under his nose. Two women he could never stand to mention are placed right in front of him, hiding behind a goddess. It’s pure comedy; his reaction to the news should have him pulling away from you and heading in the opposite direction.

But can admit that he judges a book by its cover; you aren’t what he thought you were. You’re different, interesting…someone he’d actually like to have underneath him in the opportunity ever presents itself. But he’s confused…why him? Why go through all the trouble if the music is all you care about? That whole Mu$ic Fairy concept has completely fucked with his mind.

How does he go from having no interest to wanting to see what it’s all about? There has to be more to it; otherwise, it makes no sense. You two are strangers.

He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.

“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your beautiful glossed lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in.

He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it.

“Why tonight?” he asks you.

You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.

“Because…I’m horny, and I’m tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.”

He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—

“And, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.

“What might that be, love?”

Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.

“An orgasm.”

Everything grows quiet after you articulate those words. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember, and when his mind processes it all, his brain nearly malfunctions as he tries to speak.

“You’re fucking with me,” he insists.

“You should know by now that I’m tired of the games, Yoongi.” His body shutters when you use his real name. Something he’d normally go off about, but he never wants you to stop saying it. He needs to hear you say it again; for an entirely different reason. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

He blinks a few times, not realizing he was just standing there and not saying anything.

“No, no. I’m just–wow…I never expected you to remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday you’re matched with your favorite rapper on a sex hotline,” you wink and Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“You knew it was me the whole time?...and you didn’t say anything?”

You nod. “Yeah, I did. Your voice, your demeanor; I knew from the start, but I played along because you obviously weren’t on the call to talk about mixtapes. I just wanted you to enjoy yourself, I guess.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi’s speechless. That was kind, and you kept it a secret all this time. Suddenly, all of this seems kind of sexy. It’s a secret he could have been in on if only he had read between the lines. However, he knows now, and it’s still technically still a secret…if it stays between you and him.

Your lips are once again his main focus; he’s so close to living the fantasies he had of you all those nights he wondered about how you handled yourself after the phone call ended. Did you come? Or was your mood ruined like his? He sure hopes not, because you were incredible and if anyone deserved to finish, it should have been you.

He was right about you too. You are sexy, and the longer he stands here with you, the harder it is for him to hold back on his urges. But hearing your needy voice breaks him entirely.

“How much longer am I going to have to wait for it, Yoongi?”

All regards for his reputation goes out the window. He looks towards both ends of the alley before he makes his move. Anyone could be watching, but once he feels your hands sliding up his body, he decides that that is no longer his concern.

“Come here.”

Yoongi grabs you by your throat, but doesn’t squeeze or choke you. He just wants you closer, and your eyes tell him you understand where he’s going from.

“I live 20 minutes away from here, think you can wait that long?”

“Do I have a choice?” you reply and that sass is what gets him riled up.

He doesn’t think twice about kissing your pillow soft lips. He’s been staring at them, wishing he could feel them, taste them, and now he is and he already can’t get enough. The level of sweetness on his taste buds is sinful, but it’s one addiction he’d never give up.

His tongue enters your mouth without any resistance from you, and he eagerly explores its depths, getting familiar with the woman wrapped in his arms as if he has all the time in the world with you. Your moans sends vibrations through his throat when he lifts your leg, nuzzling his crotch against your heat.

Yoongi would fuck you right now while he has you pinned against this wall but that just wouldn’t satisfy his thirst for you. You’ve been teasing him for too long for him to just rush this. It took two years to lead up to this moment, a quickie would never do it any justice.

“I need you to be on your best behavior until we get to my place,” he tells you through his slightly labored breaths.

“And if I don’t?”

His features harden.

“Then you won’t get anything, now come on. Let’s dip before one of your friends sees me without security.”

Or…before he changes his mind. He’s had plenty of bad ideas, but this tops the list.

Breathtaking.

It’s the only thing you can think about as your eyes scan over the sleek hood of the Lamborghini Gallardo. The man’s got some taste, you have to admit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking you to his place. You like the fact that he’s picky, but always chooses correctly.

You drink in the sight before—Yoongi standing there in his stage outfit, complimenting his car. The vehicle’s custom, all white except for the tires and the heavily tinted windows. You could only quiver at the image of him driving it, and when it actually happens, your mind and your mouth start to go in different directions.

He asks you basic questions like your name and where you’re from; you can only hope you’ve given him the correct answers because you cannot break away from the visual of him gripping the wheel with one hand while he’s laid back in his seat. His jewelry glistens and shines even in the darkness of his car, but your eyes still fight through the nearly blinding twinkle so you can watch the man behind it all.

You’ve wanted him since you first saw him. He came to a pep rally at your high school and you fell in love with his music and his sound—his voice especially. Sure he was a cutie, still is. But he had so much hunger, so much passion for music that you felt him on a spiritual level.

He did so well on his first performance, and you remember telling your friends how much you wanted to listen to his Soundcloud when the event was over. Of course, they laughed and thought he sucked because he didn’t fit their visual standards, but now…they probably wish they’d been a little more invested in him.

“Can you stop doing that and answer my question?”

There it is again. That voice. It drives you crazy; when he said hello to you on that hotline, you knew without a doubt you were talking to your favorite rapper.

“Wha–Doing what?”

“Eye fucking me and biting your lip like that. Do you want me to pull over?”

Well.

You open your mouth to speak but he interjects.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t even answer that. Certain things I don’t need in my head while I’m operating a vehicle.”

Your neck and face heat up. If only he knew that you aren’t as confident as you appear. He’s hot, but the fact that he doesn’t know it makes him hotter.

“Sorry,” you turn towards the window so you can smile. You don’t want to feed his ego. No matter how much he denies it, he’s cocky as hell. If he knows you’re gawking over him simply driving, he’ll run with it. “...What did you ask me?”

A slow exhale leaves his lips, like he’s slightly annoyed and you should be offended, but damn—it was kind of sexy.

“I just wanted to know what you do for a living. How can you afford to travel and come to shows all the time? ...I’m just curious.”

“Why? You think I’m selling my—”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were thinking it, and the answer is ‘no’. And no, I don’t have an OnlyFans either…probably should, though. I’d make bank,” you shrug.

“Look, I know you aren’t doing any of that. Honestly, you seem kind of selfish with the goods anyway, but…tell me how you keep up. That’s all I’m saying. Podcasts bring in that much money?”

“No they don’t, especially when you do them for free. I’m a writer. I write songs and I sell them to some of your favorite artists.”

Yoongi whistles. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Name a few.”

“This isn’t roll call, babe. If you wanna look up my credentials, you know my name now…Google me.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Fine,” you scoff.

When you look forward, you notice that you’re entering a gated community. Yoongi lets down his window and waves at the on-duty guard before the older man opens the automatic gate.

After driving past many luxurious homes, Yoongi pulls into a driveway and uses a clicker to open the garage door.

“We’re here,” he announces.

His home is lovely, and you’re in awe by the set up and interior design once you enter. You’re impressed, most guys don’t spend much thought on this level of organization.

Yoongi leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering more and more as you get closer to the top of the stairs. Your knees buckle slightly when he opens the door, but your eyes still look in every direction once you’ve made it inside.

It’s dark, but you can still make out the colors that fill the room. Blacks and grays with white walls. His bed is draped with a dark set; you can’t help but find it inviting. And it’s huge; you imagine he must be a wild sleeper because you couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed that large alone.

“I love your home, Suga.”

He waves his hand. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that. You didn’t call me that earlier.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and tells you that you can make yourself comfortable while he disappears into his closet. When he returns with clothes, you tilt your head with curiosity. “I’m gonna go shower, don’t get too nosey while you’re in here by yourself.”

“You’re leaving me? Why can’t I join you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second and a hand runs through his hair while he ponders over his answer. “Because umm…”

You crane your neck trying to coax an answer but he still stammers.

“It’s…you know.”

You smile. He’s kind of adorable, in a way.

“Too intimate?”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls back while you laugh and Yoongi huffs in annoyance as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re in there?” you call out and he stops to turn around.

You watch him get ready to produce a smart remark. However, he pauses before he can get it out. He puts his clothes on the bed and walks over to the nightstand, turning on his laptop and grabbing some Bluetooth headphones from the drawer.

“Here,” he says, pairing them to his computer and then handing them to you. You take them before you look up at him, wondering where he’s going with this, but he’s quick to fill you in. “Listen to this, I won’t be long.”

Yoongi puts on some music and gives you a wink that makes your pussy clench. He leaves you sitting on his bed, headphones in hand without another word.

For the first minute you stare at the object wondering what’s being played, but your curiosity takes over quickly and before you know it, they’re coming over your ears. You don’t regret it the second you hear his voice.

The music begins to travel through the speakers, you become obsessed with it from the very first track. You love that it’s similar to his original sound, but it isn’t the same track over and over again. They’re all so different yet so him. You can hear and feel the amount of dedication and effort he put into it. Like it wasn’t done out of obligation, but because he wanted to do it for himself. You can’t help but get up and sway your hips to the music.

You feel so connected to him through his work, and that’s why you go on and on about how you wish he’d make another mixtape because this shit is fire. You wonder how long he’s been hiding it from the world.

You aren’t expecting him to be sitting on the bed when you turn around. Your hand finds your chest and you lower the volume on the headset.

“How long have you been sitting there? You fucking scared me.”

He shrugs. “Long enough to know that I want that dress off of you.”

Your startled expression turns smug. “Oh, really?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“So…you want me to take it off?” You raise an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to have to use your words with me if you want something.”

Yoongi’s arms fold at his chest; his white tee strains against his beefiness. You remember how his clothes used to swallow him, but now he’s filling them up quite nicely, if you may. Either way, he looks good. It’s just a natural trait he possesses.

“I mean either you can take it off or you can leave. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugs his shoulders.

If you weren’t horny just looking at him sitting there in his boxers, you’d call his bluff. But you’ve already picked up on his stubbornness and you know better than to try him. “Fine.”

You sigh as you drag down the straps of your dress, rolling your eyes when he tells you to slow down. You flip your hair and twirl your body as you wiggle the fabric down your hips, turning around in the opposite direction to give him a peek at your derriere.

Looking over your shoulder, you notice how his face becomes etched with approval. You give yourself a silent applaud for selecting this piece. You’re sure your thong leaves nothing for his imagination. It also doesn’t help that you’re topless.

You stop torturing him and turn around so he can see the front.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

You take off your heels before walking towards him and his eyes never leave your breasts the entire journey, even once you’re standing between his legs, preparing to straddle his lap.

“I want you.” You tell him as if he doesn’t already know.

Yoongi’s hands find your waist while you place your knees on the bed. As soon as you’re on his lap, you can feel his bulge threatening to burst out of his underwear. It’d be so simple to pull your panties aside and milk him for everything he has, but not tonight. He’s the one who owes you a good fucking.

“How badly?”

His lips find your skin and make their way to your tits, making you clutch onto his damp curly strands while he sucks and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your hands tug his hair, and you force him to look at your face.

“Yoongi. You’re either going to fuck me or I’m going to fuck you. What’s it going to be—”

He scoops you up and drops you on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise. The dark gleam in his orbs has your thighs rubbing and your fists clinging onto the comforter. He's finally had enough, and hopefully he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“You asked for this,” he warns you and you almost giggle with glee. He pulls his shirt over his head and is about to toss it somewhere, but then he changes his mind. Yoongi looks at you for a moment, contemplating before he speaks. “You trust me, right?”

“Well, I came home with you even though you hate me, didn’t I?...Why do you ask?”

“So a lot or a little?”

You groan.

He chuckles and you feel the butterflies once again. Yoongi turns the volume up on his laptop before holding up a thumb to ask if it is too loud. Honestly, you’re glad it tuned him out because though you understand that safety is first, there’s little you wouldn’t try when it comes to this man. You’ve been waiting as patiently as you could to experience this and you’re ready to get started.

You nod and his devilish smirk is the last thing you see before he throws his shirt over your head. Darkness fills your vision but it doesn’t bother you as long as his voice is filling your ears. His cold hands slide up your thighs and spread them, wasting no time in touching your slightly sodden underwear.

Gasps escape your lips when his finger presses gently on your clit, and you can only hope the sound isn’t too awkward since you cannot hear yourself.

The bed dips so you assume he’s climbing on and you release a breath when you feel his lips hovering over your body. He leaves kisses between your breasts and he doesn’t stop until your lace panties prevent him from accessing any more skin.

Yoongi quickly slides them off, leaving lying on his bed completely naked. Everything from the moment when his tongue dips into your center is one feverish bliss. Your back arches, your toes curl, and your fingers entangle in his hair. The sounds you’re making are probably feral and of an obnoxious volume but Yoongi doesn’t bother to shush you or stop his sinful movements.

He draws circles over your throbbing clit with his tongue, moving in the same motion as you do as you swivel your hips. This song has you in the mood to grind your pussy on his face, and that’s entirely his fault for coming up with such vulgar lyrics. It’s filthy and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening by the seconds. You scream his name over and over but he just keeps going until you release the pressure built up inside of you.

The shirt is snatched off your face as you’re at your peak and what you see between your thighs only intensifies your orgasm. His face is buried in your heat, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and nibbling gently while you squirm in his iron grip.

Yoongi kisses your inner thighs once you begin to calm down to help you relax. When you back slowly droop onto the bed is when he carefully removes the headphones, turning them off and then setting them on the nightstand next to his laptop.

“I would go back for seconds, but that would only make me want more,” he tells you. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out some condoms then throws them on the bed.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“Well, you better say a prayer because we aren’t done,” he laughs and excitement bubbles inside of you.

Yoongi switches the music to something else and you can’t help but pout.

You sigh. “I pray you aren’t all talk.”

He glares at you for your comment and steps closer to the bed.

“You’re a sweet girl, but…” he flips you on your stomach and pulls you up by the waist, positioning you so that your ass and pussy are directly in his line of sight, “you need to watch how you fucking speak to me.”

A shriek leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “Yoongi…please.”

“Please? You want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice is high pitched and shaky, almost unrecognizable to your ears. “Don’t stop, please.”

Yoongi finds humor in your desperation. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whine but it’s the wrong answer. “Yoongi, please do it again.”

“No.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I said no.”.

“Such a fucking asshole,” you mumble insults, thinking they’re too low for him to hear.

“What was that?”

You look behind you and notice Yoongi rolling a condom over his dick. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of those veiny hands stroking his cock slowly, preparing himself to dive into your wetness. You’ve always wondered what he looked like doing that, ever since that time on the phone.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He puts his knee on the bed and inches closer to you. You tease him by wiggling your ass a little but he places a hand on your hip to still you. “You know…”

You can feel his cock against your entrance and your body pushes back on him to try and get it inside of you yourself. However, your impatience makes you forget how petty the man behind you really is.

The tip slips past your folds and with the amount of arousal seeping from your opening, he’s able to slide in with ease. But it’s only a taste; the majority of his cock still remains outside of you, and quickly your frustration takes control of you.

“If you wanna meet an asshole…” he makes a loud gasp leave your lips when he, without warning, slams into your pussy in one smooth motion. You whimper; a harsh snatch of your hair makes you wince and grip the sheets. Your head is turned in an uncomfortable position, but the only thing you can focus on is the intensity of the stretch and the way his dick doesn’t leave any room to spare, “I could introduce you to one.”

Yoongi pushes your head forward and pins you to the mattress. Your teeth grit together because of your sensitivity. You could come just like this without him even moving. That’s how worked up you still are. You just need a moment to pull yourself together, but Yoongi doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Arch your fucking back.”

He pulls out but swiftly snaps back into you, causing you to let out a squeak. You try to cover your mouth but his large hand comes down on your ass before you can do so. Your moans turn into screams within minutes, increasing in volume each time Yoongi slaps your rear.

“I know you can do better than that. Straighten up before I do it for you,” he grunts through the lewd skin-slapping noises that fill the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back like he demands. The position is only uncomfortable for a few seconds, but eventually it becomes familiar and the sensitivity ebbs away.

Yoongi lets go of your hair and starts rubbing his hands all over your ass, kneading the reddened flesh and giving it words of appreciation.

When you start to fuck him back he holds your waist and pulls you back on his cock. Your body begins to move naturally with the rhythm of the background music and he allows you to set the pace while he whispers obscene remarks.

“Look at you taking it just like a whore.”

You can feel the arousal between your thighs, dripping and making a mess of the sheets. The squelching sounds are disgusting but don’t phase you in this heated moment. You have more important things to worry about. Like how long you’ll be able to keep this up. You weren’t expecting him to have this much stamina, but you’ve learned to never judge a book by the cover.

He’s strong, the grip he has on you is evidence to that. The way he’s handling you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy he can use at his discretion has you clenching around his dick. His deep chuckle fills the room when he feels your walls tighten.

“On your next podcast, you should tell them how I fucked your brains out to your own playlist,” he comments.

Yoongi’s thrusts have your knees trembling and nearly giving out, but he’s quick to assure that you keep up. “No fucking slacking, whore. Do better or I’ll pull out and use your throat instead.”

You’re sure your ass will be sore in the morning because Yoongi cannot keep his hands off of it. He strikes you every chance he gets and the stinging sensation from his blows push you closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck. Yoongi…please.”

Tears roll down your cheek when his cock travels deeper, touching the spot that makes you unravel at the seams. It’s all too much and you beg him to allow you to surrender to the pleasure.

“Not yet. Shit, do you have any idea how juicy your ass looks like this?”

“But I can’t,” you sob into the comforter.

A slap to your left cheek leaves you a shaky mess. However, he shows you no mercy and does the same thing to the other side.

“That’s not an option. If you come, I swear—”

“Sorry…” Your muffled cries are the last thing you can recall before your body accidentally gives in.

Your juices leak onto the bed while you hold on for dear life, afraid you’ll float away if you let go of the fabric. But just as your orgasm reaches its peak, it’s ripped away from you by one of the foulest humans on this planet.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he growls as he drags you off the bed. Yoongi forces you to your knees, ignoring your pleas to regain what was stolen from you. He slaps your cheek a few times, snapping you back into reality and demanding your attention. “Answer me!”

“You…You told me not to come,” you hiccup.

His expression tells you how displeased he is, but it’s too bad that you don’t care. Something comes over you that has you sucking it up and wiping your tears. If he wants to play dirty, you can do it too.

“So why did you?...I never said that you could.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes. However, you have no intentions on being good anymore.

“Because it felt good and I wanted to,” you tell him and he grabs your face.

“You don’t get to decide what you want to do or what feels good. If you had the answers you wouldn’t have been begging for my dick for two years.”

Yoongi pulls off the condom and brings his cock to your mouth. You clench your fist to hold back the excitement when he tells you to open. You’ve craved the taste of him even though you’ve never had him. Your mouth waters as you wait for him to enter, and when he does, he doesn’t stop until reaches the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh if you need air, and do not suck until I tell you to, understand?”

You mumble around him as best as you can. “Mmhm.”

Before you can prepare yourself for a pace you know will be relentless, Yoongi withdraws and slowly re-enters your crevice. Your eyes roll back from the fullness and addicting taste of him. You want more—need more to fulfill your desire.

Ignoring his instructions, you enclose your lips around him and begin to suck him in each time he tries to pull out. “Easy,” he warns but you keep going.

One of your hands comes up to fondle his balls and Yoongi’s deep moans begin to fill your ears. He throws his head back in pleasure while you give him, what you would consider, the best blowjob of his life. The sound he produces is the only music you want to hear. His voice holds so much lust and bass, arousal gushes from your cunt as a result.

“Fuck, I told you not to do that.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. The feeling brings him to his senses and he places both his hands on your head. You have to grab onto his thighs to keep yourself steady since he’s starting to take control. You try to maintain the suction but his wild movements make it impossible.

“You wanted to suck me off so badly. Keep it up,” he grunts, increasing his speed.

You choke on his dick and the sounds make him twitch in your mouth. Yoongi starts to intentionally go deeper, but he’s unsatisfied by the lack of space there is for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you coughing and gasping at the sudden intake of air.

“Well, damn. Do I have to teach you how to suck dick too?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he looks down on you then uses his index and middle finger to open your mouth. He pushes the digits in and finds the back of your mouth with ease, pressing on the back of your tongue to make you open wider. “Stop being shy and open this pretty fucking mouth,” he demands, making you gag on his fingers.

Your eyes water and spit drips down your chin. You must look like a complete mess, but Yoongi cannot take his eyes off of you.

“Now show me, and I’ll give you some more.”

You’re scolded before you can even wrap your lips around his fingers.

“Stop being fucking lazy.” He gives your cheek a few more slaps before shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth.

This time you slurp and allow your saliva to coat his digits. ”Fucking, right. Now open up and milk this dick.”

Yoongi removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. This time you just open your mouth and let him in. He uses your head like a fleshlight and drills into you at a rapid speed. You try your best to keep eye contact and breath through your nose, but then out of nowhere he buries his cock down your throat.

There’s an intense burning in your airways due to lack of oxygen but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The rush takes you so high you become slightly lightheaded, sending a tingling sensation straight to your center. Nothing but music, the sound of you choking on his dick, and his sound of pleasure can be heard and the way he calls your name sends your ego through the roof.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Stay just like this, sweetheart.”

Within five long thrusts, his warm seed deposits on your tastebuds. You try to swallow everything but he pulls out quickly and empties the rest on your lips and chin. Your tongue tries to gather as much as you can, but some places are impossible to reach.

“Come here.” Yoongi pulls you from the floor and brings you closer, greeting you with a sloppy kiss once you’re on your feet. He laps up all the cum on your face and gathers it all on his tongue before he feeds it to you. You savor the taste of both of you as the kiss prolongs, and even after he pulls away you can’t help but remember how good he tasted.

If you had to guess which body part Yoongi favors the most, you’d say it was your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from them. You bite them, he shudders. You lick them, his cock twitches. So you can’t control yourself when it comes to teasing him and pressing them against his soft skin.

“You must want another round if you keep that up,” he mentions as you make your way to his earlobe. You nibble on it gently before you whisper in his ear.

“I just wanna come one more time before you kick me out.”

“Who said I was kicking you out?”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi ushers you to his bed and helps you lie down before he joins you. He hovers over you once again and his hand snakes between your thighs.

“I definitely am, but not right now. I’m not done with you,” he informs, fingers entering your heat while his thumb caresses your clit.

“Well, hurry up then.”

He frowns. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, whenever someone has the balls to make me shut up—”

“Interesting,” he states after his hand pins your neck to the mattress. “Let’s test that theory.”

Yoongi’s digits begin to move in and out of your wetness, producing more lewd noises and causing your body to shake with sensitivity.

“Yoongi.”

His name flows past your lips like water. It’s the only word you can think of at the moment. Having been worked up all this time with no relief makes you desperate to satisfy the lingering desire that’s settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Feels good, huh?”

It feels damn good. Your hips buck off the bed to match his movements so you can chase your high. “Yes…more.”

“More?”

His hand tightens its grip and restricts your air supply. He knows how close to the edge it takes you by now and he doesn’t hesitate to use it against you.

“Say please and I’ll make you come all over my fingers,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t respond like this.

You try to speak, but everything gets trapped in your throat. You can only claw at his chest, begging him to guide you to your release. He loosens his grip and through your coughs you manage to give him the answer he wants.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Yoongi gives you a fake pout, squeezing your face between his fingers. “But you can…watch this.”

His fingers curl inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your nails dig into his arm, body arching off the bed due to the intense wave of pleasure that hits you. You try to run, but he pins you down and forces you to accept the mind-blowing orgasm you were begging for.

“You talked a bunch of shit, now back it up, love,” Yoongi tells you while your walls clench around him. His hand covers your mouth, preventing your screams from waking up the neighbors as if it isn’t already too late for that. “Let’s see if this cunt’s worth the headache.”

The coil snaps and your body stiffens. Yoongi’s deep voice continues to degrade you as your juices squirt all over his bed. Even though you cry out from the sensitivity he fucks you until the last drop. Your body just falls on the bed once he’s done with you, and you move into a fetal position when he carefully slides out his fingers.

The aftershock of your release has you twitching, but the bliss you feel is superior. This is what it feels like to get fucked out, and you knew he would be the person to deliver. Satisfied would be an understatement because you weren’t expecting to be stuck like this after you were done. Usually, you’re able to get up and go before they can return from the bathroom, but tonight you can only lay there in silence while Yoongi cleans you up with a warm cloth.

“I didn’t break you, huh?”

“The opposite, actually,” you laugh weakly.

“Good.” He lays his body beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, enjoying the familiar beat that plays into the dark room. It’s your phone sex song; the beat he played to help you relax. “Remember this?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You keep saying that like I’m always on your mind.”

“Maybe you are,” you reply.

A soft scoff comes from behind you. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

There’s silence, then eventually a long sigh.

“I want you gone before I wake up, okay?”

You shake your head. Not in disbelief because it’s what you expected, but because he can’t read between the lines. But you aren’t naïve and you know when someone wants you just as bad as you want them. So for now, you’ll be patient.

“Fair enough,” you answer.

Satisfied, he rolls over and drifts off into sleep, leaving you awake to wallow in your thoughts. It seemed best to just get up and leave then, but it takes nearly an hour to regain your strength. And just when you think it’s safe for you to slip away and consider this night one of the good memories, the warmth you felt before returns and pulls you closer—it is then that your eyes become heavy and you submit to the comfort you know you aren’t supposed to have.

When Yoongi wakes up and finds a cold empty bed, he can only throw his head back in frustration. He hopes…no, he prays he didn’t say anything to make you feel like he wasn’t interested. He knows he can be a dick, but he was just pissed and horny last night. You’re not easy to handle, but he likes that about you. You aren’t afraid to put him in his place.

He rolls out of bed and the first thing he notices is that his laptop is still playing music, so he makes turning it off his first task. However, once he enters the password, he finds an opened document with a typed note in the center of the page.

If you ever think of me, just call...If you want?

Yoongi’s speechless, and out of his damn mind. That’s the only excuse he has for picking up his phone and calling the number you left at 9 am in the damn morning. The longer the phone rings, the more regret fills him. He can’t help but think you left that there to tease him for calling you so quickly. He tries to hang up but before he can remove the phone from his ear the ringing stops and your beautiful voice blesses him once again.

“Hello?”

He panics, and doesn’t respond. He searches the room frantically and finds his excuse lying on the floor right in front of him.

“Yeah, you left your earring. Looks expensive,” he murmurs before he clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m wearing both of mine now. Must be for someone else.”

Embarrassment washes over him as he stands there naked in his bedroom. How could he be so stupid? That thing’s probably months old, if not longer. He wonders if you saw it. Maybe that’s why you left.

“I’m kidding, Yoongi. If it’s a gold hoop, it’s mine,” you laugh and he feels a weight left from his shoulders.

The idea of you finding stuff that belongs to other women in his home doesn’t put a good feeling in his chest. He also doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who lets anyone in his home because he’s not that kind of guy.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he says once your giggles cease.

“And you’re sarcastic.”

Still sharp as hell. He thinks to himself.

“Whatever.” He takes a seat on his bed and rests his back against the headboard while he checks emails on his laptop and uses small talk to melt away the awkwardness. “So…you left in a hurry, huh?”

Smooth.

“You told me you wanted me gone before you woke up, remember?”

Of course, he did. Because he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I was just fucking with you, though. I would have given you a ride or something, you know.”

“No worries. I made it to my hotel room safely,” you assure and he releases a sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear that.”

“Mmhm, miss me already, huh?...too bad you kicked me out.”

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna wake up to some tits in my face, but that’s fair.”

There’s some shuffling in the background like you’re moving something, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

“Can you remember anything from last night?” you ask him after a beat of silence.

His fingers run through his hair as he thinks about all the filthy images replaying in his mind.

“Well yeah, I remember you, of course. You were fucking incredible. But everything after that moment was a blur. Please don’t tell me I did something stupid.”

“No, you’re good. I had fun.”

So did he. He wishes it’d happen again, and again. “And you’re okay too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My ass is sore and I can barely sit down, but I feel good. Thanks for that.”

Thank heavens you are. He knows how rough he was and most women aren’t into that but you took it and enjoyed it. You were fun to play with, and now his cock twitches at the thought of what your ass must look like now, covered in his marks.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, love. Bummed about having to work, but I’m good,” he responds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I kept you up when you have to work this morning.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I enjoyed your company, and…”

He almost told you that he missed you, but caught himself at the last minute.

“And what?”

“Uhh, nothing,” he gulps. “I was reading something…Forgot what I was going to say.”

“O’kay.”

Yoongi can tell by the sound of your voice that you don’t buy it.

“Yup,” is all he can say in response.

After a minute or two of both of you just holding the phone, you finally say something to keep the conversation going. “Yoongi?”

“Hm…”

“Are you busy right now or…?”

He places his laptop beside him because he can assure that whatever he has to do isn’t as important as this.

“No, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about last night,” you admit.

Now, he’s kind of nervous. What else happened while he was in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi stays on the line waiting patiently for your answer, and it’s one he doesn’t expect.

“Well, you still owe me, you know?”

Interesting.

“And what do you mean by that?” he questions.

“Well…”

Yoongi already knows where this is going and luckily he knows exactly how to handle this situation. “Not satisfied, are you, baby?”

“No, I am. But…”

He chuckles. “You want some more?”

“If it isn't too much trouble. And if you have time, of course.”

You’re as sly as a fox and you know how to get what you want. It’s hot, but he’s going to have to humble you before he does anything else.

“No trouble at all, baby. Do me a favor, and spread your legs for me.”

“Okay.”

He hears some more movement and then you return, prepared to do anything he tells you in the hopes of pleasuring yourself. You tell him once you’re ready and he provides you with more instructions, in which you follow without question.

“Now, facetime me and place the phone between your thighs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

Within a second, his phone notifies him of an incoming facetime call. He answers it and finds you sitting in your hotel room. You’re wearing a large shirt but he can still see the fresh blooms from where he took your skin between his teeth the night before creeping up your neck. He can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

He curses when he sees your cunt, all glistening and wet with your juices. His mouth waters but he pushes his filthy thoughts in the back of his mind.

“This is what you’re going to do,” he starts, watching in awe as strings of arousal snap while you’re scissoring yourself in his presence, “...you’re going to imagine me fucking your brains out and you’re gonna use that image to get yourself off…without me.”

“Yoongi—”

He tsks. “I’m not your man, and making you come is not my job, baby.”

“But…”

If he gave a fuck, he’d break hearing how desperate and needy your voice sounds, but you need to understand that he isn’t going to come every time you call for him. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t need distractions.

“But nothing…Now, bye. Have fun.”

He hangs up just as you start to curse at him and yell into the phone. But he knows this isn’t over; you’re probably getting a ride over to his place right now, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

You were able to just walk out of here this morning without even waking him. That doesn’t sit right with him, and there’s only one solution for it really—

He’s just going to have to fuck you harder during round two…

And maybe, just maybe…get to know you a little bit after.

We’ll see.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga smut #bangtanbathhouse #festivaledaway #bangtansorciere #btsdreamcourt #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #yoongi fanfics #bts fanfics #sugakookitty

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toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.4

a/n: i have no posting or writing schedule fyi. but here we go, we're truckin through. EDIT: previously titled perfect date

Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of an autopsy, descriptions of a dead body (not graphic) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

“Crackstone’s Crypt is overrated,” you groaned, throwing yourself onto Enid’s bed. “It’s gotta be somewhere else.”

“Nowhere else is creepy,” Enid said with a shrug. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“It’s not good enough,” you mumbled more to yourself than to her.

“Just go somewhere else,” Enid offered when you didn’t say anything else.

“I can’t,” you whined. “It has to be perfect.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and up onto your feet. With Wednesday out of the room, you had let your wings free and they shook as you started pacing. Enid had to admit, she rarely saw you this stressed out. You didn’t even freak out like this over finals, and everyone knew you should have been. And yet, somehow asking Wednesday Addams out on a date was going to drive you up the wall.

“It’s not supposed to be stressing you out this bad,” Enid said once you completed your fifth lap around the room.

“I’m not stressed, I’m devastated,” you said, stopping for just long enough to look at her. “I haven’t even asked her out yet and I’m already out of ideas.”

“Then we’ll brainstorm,” Enid said in as chipper of a voice as she could manage. She sat down cross-legged on her bed and started thinking. “What about visiting Nicky?”

“Out of the question,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Wednesday would love it-”

“-Nicky’s off limits.” Your hands shook as you lifted them to rub your face. There was a glassiness creeping over your eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Enid said softly; you knew she had meant no harm, but she still regretted the suggestion anyway. “Then what else would be enough for Wednesday Addams?”

You both looked at each other dejectedly. Enid had agreed that something creepy would have been an excellent idea. You both knew she enjoyed autopsies, torture, and the occasional murder. None of those, however, were legal, so they were off the table. Who knew this was going to be so difficult?

“Are you sure they’re not coming back soon?” You asked as you gestured to Wednesday’s side of the room.

“She and Thing are at a hummer’s meeting,” Enid said with a shrug. She hadn’t asked questions because, quite frankly, she didn’t really care.

“A meeting?” You asked, turning your head back to look at Enid with furrowed brows. “But I wasn’t invited.”

“Are you a hummer?” Enid asked.

“I thought I was,” you mumbled. “Well now that’s just rude.” You turned back to look at Wednesday’s bed with a frown. Your feathers ruffled with your frustration.

“Y/N, focus,” Enid said with a snap of her fingers. “Date ideas.”

“Oh yeah,” you said, “let’s see.” You spun on your heels and started pacing the floor once again. “Wednesday… black… spooky…” Enid smiled to herself as the gears continued turning in your head. “Gothic… Victorian… old…” You sighed loudly and shook your head. “Abandoned… decrepit- Gate’s Mansion!” You shouted, turning quickly and pointing your finger at Enid.

“Great word association,” Enid said with a tight-lipped smile, “but you might get arrested for trespassing.”

“I bet she’d love it,” you shrugged.

“I don’t have enough bail money for the both of you,” Enid said with a sigh.

“That’s okay! You bail out Wednesday.” You looked off into the distance. “I bet I can convince Principle Weems to bail me out.”

“Okay!” Enid said, causing you to flinch and look back at her. “Next step, how are you finding a body?” You can’t just make one.”

“No, that’ s murder.” You cocked one hip and lifted your left hand to your face, rubbing your chin as you thought. “But homicide-”

“-absolutely not.”

“Fine, we’ll just dig one up,” you said with a huff. “She likes gravedigging.”

“How do you even know that?” Enid asked.

“She told me during tutoring one night.”

“You know what, I’m not questioning it anymore,” Enid said with a shake of her head. The fact that you weren’t disturbed even a little bit by Wednesday’s… hobbies just further proved her belief that you two were perfect for each other.

“Then it’s settled,” you said with a nod to yourself. “We dig up a body, take it to the basement in Gates’ Mansion, she gets to perform her autopsy, and it turns into the best date she’s ever had. No murder involved.” You smiled to yourself. “Thanks for the help, Enid.” You made your way to the door, not even gracing her with a goodbye.

Wait.

“Or homicide,” Enid chimed in before you could finish stepping out of the door.

“You’re a killjoy, Sinclair,” you said as you leaned back in. “What about involuntary manslaughter-”

“-no!”

—---

You had asked her on a date. You hadn’t used that exact word, but that’s what you were asking. You’re going out with me tomorrow, you had said before walking off before she could even answer. Every nerve in your body had been on fire, you couldn’t have waited to see if she would say no. Pretty brave, you would say.

But now you were standing beside a now-open grave, getting soaked to the bone from the rain, and watching as Wednesday continued to dig deeper and deeper. She wasn’t smiling - because why would she? - but it was clear she was having the time of her life. Never had you seen her move so energetically.

“Found you,” Wednesday said. She lifted the lid of the coffin to stare into the fairly fresh body within. “Can you carry him?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you said as you hopped into the grave. Don't be a baby, you thought when your knee ached upon landing.

Even though you were more than happy to be there with Wednesday, you weren’t as big of a fan of dead bodies. Maybe it was the trauma. It’s common fucking sense, you moron, your inner voice argued. No, it was definitely the trauma.

Wednesday stood back and made room for you as you bent down to haul the body over your shoulder. She warned you to be careful with it so it didn’t stretch too much; your stomach rolled at the thought of it stretching in your hands. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and held on to the body tightly, urging Wednesday out of the grave so she could help pull you up. Well, she tried to help pull you up; truthfully she was no help at all.

"Where to?" Wednesday asked, her eyes wide as she studied the body that you were desperately trying not to focus on.

"Short walk from here," you said and gestured your head in the direction of the mansion. God, the smell of this body was horrendous.

It was a silent walk; with Wednesday it normally was. The only true sound was the rain continuing to pour all around you. Your footsteps were drowned out by the squelching of mud, but it was almost comforting. Truthfully, it reminded you of home.

As soon as the Mansion was in sight, Wednesday's head snapped in your direction. There was a spark of joy in her dark eyes that wasn't unlike that of a child in a candy store. You kept your mouth shut but gestured toward the gates, and she practically ran over to pick the padlock while you trudged the rest of the way.

"Hurry up," you called out once you walked through the gate. "He's getting heavy."

She gave you that murderous stare that you liked so much, but led the way to the side of the house where a single door was located. It was locked; no surprise there. Your eyes trailed down to her boot when she bent down, taking something out of it and getting to work on a door.

“Do you always keep a lockpick with you?” You asked as she continued to work on the lock.

“Of course,” she answered. “You never know when you might need one.”

“Right, right.”

She pushed the door open after only a few more seconds of maneuvering. It was impressive, truly, the way her small lithe fingers could work a lock in less than a minute. But you didn’t stop to think about it before rushing inside to get out of the rain, lightening accentuating the atmosphere when Wednesday closed the door.

“Oh this is creepy,” you mumbled as you walked down the hallway.

You had no idea where anything was in this stupid house. When you had staked it out and brought everything, you had managed to slip through a small window to the basement. Not once had you actually surveyed the layout, so it could take ages before you found out where to go.

“Why do people live in places this big?” You asked when you looked into the fifth cobweb-filled room.

“The Addams mansion is bigger,” Wednesday mused, making you flinch when she silently appeared beside you.

“How do you remember where anything is?” You asked again. She started walking away and you followed behind her.

“Because it’s my home,” she answered.

Of course, you thought with a mocking shake of your head. The body on your shoulders shifted, sliding further down your back and pressing down painfully on your wings. With a grunt, you hoisted it up higher, easing as much pressure as you could and making the weight a little lighter on your legs. For a dead body, he was awfully heavy.

“Find the basement,” you said with a huff. “I’m about to drop him.”

Wednesday nodded at you once before using her sleuthing skills to find the stairs. Watching her work, even just to find something, truly amazed you. The slight tilt of her head when she was thinking, the movement of her eyes betraying her thoughts and emotions, the very methodical way she went through her thoughts. It was all enough to distract you from the burning muscles in your arms and legs.

“This way,” Wednesday called, and youfinally got moving.

Your legs protested, but you trudged your way to where she was standing. Looking down the stairs was probably your first mistake of the night. Digging up a body wasn’t? Your inner voice asked. It was pitch black down there and the stairs looked like they would break if a speck of dust landed on them. You had two bodies’ worth of weight, what if you fell through?

“I’ll go first,” Wednesday said after most likely noticing your hesitation.

“No, I got it,” you said quickly. No way in hell were you going to seem afraid in front of Wednesday Addams.

You took a deep breath in, then essentially fell onto the first step. It creaked, but stayed intact. With a few small nods to yourself, you continued moving. Your feet hit the wood hard with each step, your muscles telling you to stop or they would let you fall down the stairs. But you kept it up, focusing instead on Wednesday’s boots behind you.

When your feet hit the solid floor, you let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was done, and now the real fun could begin. At least, it would if you could find the lights…

The switch flipped and light flooded the room.

“What’s all this?” Wednesday asked, and you turned to face her with a smile as you could finally explain your plans.

“It’s an autopsy da- um.” You looked away. “Party.” Now that’s just stupid.

“For me?” Wednesday asked, looking up at you. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted ever so slightly; she was surprised.

“Well, you took me birdwatching, so.” You shrugged. “And it’s not like I’d dig up a body for no good reason.”

You walked over to the metal table you had moved to the center of the room and finally, finally placed the body down on it. Even with the body off of your shoulders, you could still feel its weight. The decomposition had stained your shirt and you just knew you would never get it out. Dammit, you liked that shirt…

“Are you going to join?” Wednesday asked as she stood beside you, looking down at the body with a joy that you rarely if ever saw.

“I’ll just be your assistant,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your experience.”

She turned to face you quickly, the smallest fraction of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. You inhaled sharply as your heart stuttered in your chest. She didn’t even truly smile at you and your heart felt like it was going to explode. You turned around quickly. If she kept looking at you like that, you were going to give her a fresh body to perform her autopsy on.

“Want some?” You asked as you held the Vick’s vaporub out to her.

“No need,” Wednesday said as she turned back to the body. “I enjoy the smell.”

“Well I’m using it,” you mumbled to yourself as you scooped out a generous amount and smeared it underneath your nose. It helped, but by no means did it erase the smell still clinging to your clothes.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Wednesday asked, that miniscule smile appearing on her lips again and a crack of thunder as added theatrics.

Oh, tonight was going to kill you.

—---

“Good night, Wednesday.”

Enid sat up as soon as she heard your voice from the other side of the door. Her phone read 11:29pm; you had both missed curfew. Did that mean the date had gone well? Wait, neither one of you had used the word. Did the outing go well? Surely it had, nothing was more tailormade for Wednesday than this.

“Good night.”

She didn’t even pretend to be asleep when Wednesday finally came back into the room. Her movements stuttered when she saw Enid sitting there, staring at her with enough excitement that she felt she was going to explode. This was going to be the best night ever.

“Did you have a nice night?” Enid asked immediately.

Any normal person would have thought it had gone bad. After all, Wednesday was soaked to the bone, coated in mud and grime and… other things, and smelled like a dead body. By Enid’s standards, it would have been the biggest disaster in the entire history of the world. But for Wednesday?

“It was adequate,” she answered.

She immediately went to her closet and grabbed her pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for bed. But Enid saw the darkening of her cheeks and the small pull at the corner of her lips before she closed the bathroom door. Thing gestured to Wednesday, and Enid nodded in agreement.

“Our ship is sailing,” she said with a smile, giving Thing a fistbump.

Oh yeah. This was going to be amazing.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 3 months

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The Arcana HCs: M6's ringtones

Julian

For Asra: Hot n Cold by Katy Perry

I mean, does it even need explaining? Yes, Asra knows this is their assigned ringtone, and no, they don't mind it at all

For Nadia: Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce

Nadia didn't know that this was her ringtone until you told her, to which she looked flattered and Julian began to stutter

For Muriel: Why Can't We Be Friends by War

Does Julian respect that Muriel is allowed to feel however he wants to about him? Yes. Does the dislike still bother him? ... maybe

For Portia: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses

This was the most sentimental ringtone Portia would allow him to set for her, and only because of the sick guitar intro

For Lucio: Mean by Taylor Swift

He's not going to lie, some of Lucio's accusatory words did hurt a little, especially after he saved his life with that amputation

For you: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

A classic. It sums up his feelings for you perfectly, and if you happen to dial him in earshot he'll croon along for you

Asra

For Julian: Dumb Ways to Die by Tangerine Kitty

There's no hard feelings between them anymore, but the moment Julian decided dying counted as a solution this became his song

For Nadia: That's My Girl by Little Mix

She might not remember how close they were, but after the tea parties they had together, he'll always be rooting for her

For Muriel: Lean On by Major Lazer

Never let it be said that they can't be sentimental. They'll just do it to EDM and cheesy lyrics for maximum teasing potential

For Portia: Drama by AJR

If you think for a second that he and Portia didn't eventually bond over their love of collecting tea, I beg you to reconsider

For Lucio: Stupid Hoe by Nicki Minaj

You can try to shame them for this all you want. They are humming along, and have been known to keep singing after picking up

For you: Tear in my Heart by twenty one pilots

You're the tear in his heart, and that means he's alive. Changes it sometimes to lighten the mood, but always switches back

Nadia

For Julian: Rasputin by Boney M.

She doesn't remember him, but there's one thing she knows for sure - the only thing he does more shamelessly than flirt is dance

For Asra: Daydreamer by AURORA

Doesn't the title of the song say enough? Even if it didn't, the dreamy music fits them too well too deny

For Muriel: Lean on Me by Bill Withers

Here is what she knows about Muriel: Vesuvia failed him, and she wants him to have better. Now if she could just get his trust ...

For Portia: Count on Me by Bruno Mars

The person who sat by her as she slept and took care of her needs after awakening and stuck by her side? She can count on her

For Lucio: Shout Out to My Ex by Little Mix

Never let it be said that Nadia is afraid of growing and getting stronger. Though saying he broke her heart is an overstatement

For you: Halo by Beyonce

Just ... read through the lyrics. She's never going to hear you call her without remembering what you mean to her

Muriel

For Julian: D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F. by Kevin Bloody Wilson

Specifically the chorus - "Do I Look, Like I Give A F***: DILLIGAF." He doesn't plan on getting chummy with him any time soon

For Asra: Stressed Out by twenty one pilots

He knows they both had to grow up and suffer, but he still gets nostalgic for the quieter years they spent as kids in the woods

For Nadia: Kings & Queens by Ava Max

Is she intimidating? Yeah, but he'd pop champagne to celebrate her succeeding Lucio any day. More queens on the throne, please

For Portia: W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole

Nadia may be intimidating, but Portia's the one he truly fears the most. This woman is small and mighty and way too unpredictable

For Lucio: When Will You Die? by They Might Be Giants

Does he have any murderous intent towards the count? not really. Will he sleep easier when he knows he's all the way gone? ... yeah

For you: All of Me by John Legend

Well it's true, isn't it? You pulled him back out into the world and earned his total trust. But he's never letting you hear his ringtone

Portia

For Julian: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

As all younger sisters must, she chose this solely to make fun of him. Julian, on the other hand, is flattered at the iconic song choice

For Asra: Jericho by Iniko

She knows there's better choices out there, but it's just the vibes, y'know? Try convincing her that they haven't been to outer space

For Nadia: Best Friend by Saweetie

Can't resist singing along to it every time it goes off. Which means that she'll always answer with "hi bestie!!" even when she shouldn't

For Muriel: Y.M.C.A. by Village People

1) She doesn't know him that well, 2) it's a really good song, 3) telling him not to feel down is what she wants to do anyways

For Lucio: Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys

*cue gremlin face* sure, she never met him personally, but the dude wasn't a great husband for her bestie. giggles each time

For you: I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton

Likes to belt this out to you when she picks up. Whether she squeaks on the high notes each time is up to the listener

Lucio

For Julian: House of Memories by Panic! at the Disco

You can't get amputated on the battlefield by a newbie without trauma bonding at least a little bit. Besides, it's catchy

For Asra: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

Ohh, he remembers when they were a teenager, and he does not want to go back. He had good reason to be uneasy around them

For Nadia: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

Yes, he knows their marriage ended because he died, but indulge him a little if sometimes he likes to fantasize that he called it off

For Muriel: Sorry by Justin Bieber

Well, what other song are you supposed to give the victim of your past self? Okay so maybe it isn't the best apology, but it is "sorry"

For Portia: Sweet but a Psycho by Ava Max

Oh, he knows that the force truly worth fearing is not the woman you did wrong - it's her loyal and unhinged best friend.

For you: Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

You do make him feel like a teenager again! It's not nearly as glamorous as life used to be, but having you there for it is exciting

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 10 months

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First day

Originally posted on my Wattpad @MayaBishop_is_myWife

Alex Vause x reader

!!TW: mention of murder and vague drug mention!!

Work count:: 1.2k (not proof read)

Alex POV: (Alex and Piper aren't together in this)

I walked into the cafeteria and joined the que to get lunch, another day of sloppy something, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. Yum, I can't complain though because it's better than nothing and if I do complain Red will starve me out. Brushing off hat thought, I get my food and saunter over to a table with some of my friends on it, Morello, Chapman and Nicky. I take a seat and listen in on their conversation.

Nicky - "No c'mon, she's hot."

Piper - "I agree, I mean have you seen her. The eyes, hair the hair!" dragging out the r sound at the end as if to make a point.

Alex - "Who you talking about?"

Nicky - "That new girl that showed up in the van this morning, she's very good lookin' although she's been crying in the bathroom since she got here so maybe not the most stable girl in here."

Morello - "There's worse trust me, and besides why are you all getting so worked up about this? Yeah she's nice to look at but what if she has someone outside of here? You know, like a boyfriend or girlfriend or someone, she might even be married for all you know?"

Nicky - "Yeah but you said it, she's nice to look at tuts, she's gunna be getting looks from all over. If she stops crying of course."

At this point my interest was piqued and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about so once I'd sat, had a tal and eaten my food I was going to go find this mystery girl and find out if they're actually telling the truth.

Y/n POV:

I can't believe I actually did that. I killed her. I killed my own mother. I keep telling myself it was the only way out but everytime I think about it the guilt and self resentment creeps back in. My mum had munchausen by proxy and she made me believe I was sick and could walk or do practically anything by myself. I really didn't see any other way out so, one night I just did it. Obviously I feel terrible and wish I'd never done it but, there really was no other way out. Anyway, it's done now and I'm in jail, thankfully not maximum security because people could see my side of the story and saw I wasn't just a cold-blooded killer.

I've been at Litchfield a little over 5 hours now and as soon as I was allowed to go off and do my thing, I went straight for the bathroom and I've been crying ever since. Somehow, I managed to get the only stall with a door so thankfully people can't just watch me cry, hear me yes but watch, no.

All day people have been staring and I don't know why. Maybe they think I'm fucked up for what I did or something. I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear a soft knock on the door.

Alex - "Hey, you okay in there? Stupid question I know because well, you're crying but I still feel like I have to ask."

I bite my lip and sigh before responding, I didn't expect anyone to actually care.

Y/n - "Uhm- yeah, I guess I'm okay. Not my ideal situation but you know, life goes on."

Alex - "Yeah well you got that one right."

After that a not awkward but not totally comfortable silence fell over us. I slowly stood up and unlocked the door. I stepped out and tried to dry my face from the copious amount of tears I'd shead in the past hours of being here. Instantly this woman picked up on it and gently held my face in one hand and helped me wipe my tears with the other.

Alex - "You'll be okay, I'm going to be brutally honest with you, the first few days are actual hell, you'll miss everything and everyone but, I'll be here is you ever want to talk about it okay? Oh, and I'm Alex by the way, but everyone calls me Vause, it's my last name."

I smiled at Alex and nodded my head a small thank you leaving my lips. She pulled me into her embrace and held me tight.

Alex - "You know, they were right."

I was confused because I had not a single idea what she was going on about. So, I pulled my head slightly away from her shoulder and looked at her.

Y/n - "What do you mean? Who's right?"

Alex - "Oh just my friends, they said some stiff about how you were really good looking and what not."

You felt a blush creep across my face as you looked into her gorgeous green eyes only now just realising after looking a her properly just how beautiful she really was. A sly smirk found it's way onto her lips before she spoke again.

Alex - "Hey, don't get all shy on me now."

A she said that her hand found it's way to my waist as she pulled me closer again. Whilst she trailed her other hand up my body and hooked a finger around my chin so I'd look her in the eyes.

Y/n - "You really mean it?"

Alex - "Of course I do, I mean I've known you what, like 2 minutes and I'm already calling you beautiful I think that speaks for itself ."

I giggle a bit and looked down in an attempt to hide my flustered face yet again, knowing she was right. I looked her in the eyes again only to see her eyes had never left me and she had a wide smile of her face.

Alex POV:

I looked down slightly because I was a bit taller than her and just marvelled at this gorgeous girl in front of me she had glowing y/h/c hair and shining y/e/c eyes, her smile could light up a room and her laugh was so fucking adorable. Normally, I'm not the one to fall over small stuff like this but she was different, I don't know why, she just was.

She looked me back in the eyes and I couldn't help myself anymore, I leaned in and captured her lips in mine. They fit together like puzzle pieces. Her hand found their way into my hair while mine rested on the small of her back keeping her safe in my arms. I swiped my tongue over her bottom lip asking for entrance and she happily agreed. She tugged on my hair a little so in return I grazed my teeth over her bottom lip and she let out a small breathy moan which was almost silent but, I could still hear it. We broke away for ir and as soon as we separated we crashed our lips back together hungrily. She was almost as addictive as some of the things women in the jail used to do.

Just as things were getting heated someone burts into the bathroom.

Healy - "INMATES NO LESBIAN ACTIVITY ALLOWED!"

We both untangled ourselves from each other and apologised. As he left I whispered in her ear.

Y/n POV:

Alex - "He won't catch us tonight sweetheart don't worry. I'll have you all to myself, I'll make you feel better."

She then gave me a final eck on the lips and walked out the bathroom. Oh man, I was not going to get much sleep on my first night in prison.

#alex vause #laura prepon #oitnb icons #orange is the new black #alex vause x reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw pride #lesbian #lesbian pride #sapphic #bisexual

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 5 months

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Marriage Tunes - The Forgotten Nest AU

AU Series Based on The Forgotten Nest

Summary: Bradley is set to leave for flight school. Cora ensures that his last few days in Miramar are memorable.

Additional Warnings: Referenced Past Teenage Pregnancy; Eventual Crying and Angst but Fluff First; Suggestive Comments (They Have a Kid, y'all, they ain't innocent)

Word Count: 2.4k

A.N. This skips forwards a few years from the last one.

Main Master List

Series Master List

The waves lapped at the sandy beaches of Miramar as the bright sun hung high in the sky. It was spring and the crowds were small, letting Bradley, Cora, and Nickie have some privacy and peace.

“No!” Nickie giggled as Bradley picked him up. “Put me down!”

“Alright.”

Nickie shrieked as Bradley dipped him into the water, causing Cora to smile softly to herself. She sat up on the shore, reading a book, while Nickie and Bradley chased each other around the beach. Nickie was now seven years old and set to start second grade in the fall. And Cora was trying not to cry about it.

“Daddy!”

“What?” Bradley asked innocently, causing Nickie to push against his chest.

“You’re cheating!”

“What? How?”

“You are!”

“I think that you’re just making things up now, Nickie!” Bradley stated, jokingly swinging Nickie’s feet into the waves again.

Nickie shrieked and clawed at his dad, trying to stay dry and away from the waves. Cora tried to focus on her book again, but it was getting more and more difficult. Bradley had always prided himself in keeping in shape, but his boyish bean pole shape had officially given way to a more masculine and broad stature with his regular and intense exercise. And with the mustache fully grown in and Nickie in his arms, Cora’s brain was pretty muddled.

Nickie and Bradley eventually got out of the water and returned to where Cora was sitting. Nickie settled in the sand, content to build a sandcastle, leaving Cora and Bradley to talk quietly about more serious subjects.

“I got accepted,” Bradley stated quietly, causing Cora to nod slowly.

“Pensacola then?” she asked, turning to Bradley with a quietly grief-stricken expression.

She knew that it was always Bradley’s desire to get into flight school and become a naval aviator. That was never hidden from her. But it was difficult to let him go to the other side of the country to pursue his dreams. And leave her and Nickie behind.

“For two years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley agreed, nodding along. He looked over at where Nickie was sitting in the sand, blissfully unaware. “I have a month left.” Cora nodded and looked away. Bradley turned to her, his gut twisting when he caught her expression. “And I know that you can't move. Not when you’re this close to graduating yourself. And Nickie has school and . . .”

“We’re just going to have to make it work,” Cora stated, leaning back in her seat.

“I’ll call every day.”

“I know you will,” Cora replied, turning back to him with a small smile. “I know, Bradley."

He could only nod in return.

When they got home that night, Bradley took up the task of making dinner. Nickie sat in front of the TV, watching a rerun of a movie, while Cora slipped away to their shared bedroom. Bradley glanced up from the pot he was stirring when Cora placed a small box down on the countertop. A very familiar small box that he gave her years ago.

Bradley stared at her with a measure of surprise, but Cora stood there with a confident expression. Bradley turned off the burner and grabbed the box. Opening it, he stared down at his mom’s engagement ring. He had gotten it resized for Cora after he found out about Nickie and now all he had to do was place it on her finger.

“I think this is the part where you get down on one knee,” Cora stated, causing Bradley to snort.

“Yeah, I think it is.” Turning to where Nickie was still sitting, Bradley called out to his son. “Nickie, can you come over here for a second?”

Nickie got up and walked over to where Bradley and Cora were standing, a bit confused at the scene. He ran up to his dad and looked at the little box in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a ring. For Mommy,” Bradley explained, slowly getting down onto one knee. “It means that Mommy and Daddy promise to love each other forever. And it means that we’re going to get married.”

“Aren’t you already married?” Nickie asked, confused.

“No,” Cora mused, brushing Nickie’s hair. “Not officially.”

“Why not?” Nickie demanded of Bradley, who laughed in return.

And with some help from Nickie, Bradley slipped the finger onto Cora’s finger, where he hoped that it would stay for the rest of their lives. Cora pulled Bradley in for a quick kiss before the two of them turned to Nickie to enjoy the moment as a family.

~~~~~

A week later, not long after Bradley’s graduation ceremony, Maverick drove Cora down to the San Diego courthouse. Bradley and Nickie had gone ahead to get the very small ceremony set up and now all that Cora had to do was show up. Parking the car, Maverick and Cora got out and headed up the stairs with their arms linked.

“Are you ready?” Maverick asked Cora softly, trying to keep up a brave face.

“I’m ready,” Cora agreed, pressing a kiss to her dad’s cheek.

The doors opened and Maverick led Cora, dressed in a simple white dress from a department store and with a bouquet of flowers from a supermarket, down the makeshift aisle. Nickie stood beside his dad at the end of the aisle, dressed in a little black suit. He was supposed to stay besides Bradley for the ceremony, but he quickly ran to his mom’s side.

Cora smiled and reached out a hand for Nickie to grab. He held her hand diligently, happily marching with the tune down the aisle. And Bradley, dressed in his dress whites, couldn’t help but let a few tears slip out at the sight.

The ceremony was short and sweet, but filled with so much love that it didn’t even matter. Nickie stood in between his parents the whole time, while Maverick tried to hold in his emotions on the side. Ice gave his shoulder a squeeze and Maverick let out a breath. It was probably ridiculous to get choked up when they already had a kid together, but he couldn’t help it.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant stated, causing Cora and Bradley to lean in.

Cheers broke out among the small crowd as they shared their first kiss as a married couple. Turning to their friends and family, they waved and took one of Nickie’s hands each. Walking back down the aisle as a family of three, they couldn’t help but get lost in the bliss of the moment. They were married. It was official.

The festivities were held at the Mitchell house. Bradley stood to the side, watching as Cora chatted excitedly with Penny and Sarah. Nickie and Amelia were running around, being playfully chased by Slider. And just as Bradley was about to head over to his wife, Maverick approached him slowly.

“Bradley,” Maverick greeted him with a stiff nod.

“Maverick,” Bradley returned with a similarly awkward expression.

Over the years, the two of them were forced to co-exist for Cora and Nickie’s sake. Bradley tried to avoid any direct conversation and between Maverick’s various deployments, it wasn’t difficult to pull off. But whether or not he liked it, Maverick was the grandfather of his son and now his father-in-law.

Bradley would never be able to fully cut him out. Not again.

“Are you having a good time?” Maverick asked, causing Bradley to nod slowly.

“It’s my wedding. Of course, I am.”

“Have the two of you told Nickie yet?” Maverick questioned, earning a shake of Bradley’s head.

“No, not yet. Cora wanted to break it to him after the wedding,” Bradley replied quietly, already dreading that conversation.

“I’ll be Miramar for a few weeks,” Maverick stated, causing Bradley to turn back to him. “I’ll look after them.”

Bradley nodded slowly and turned back to watch Cora practically glide over to chat with the Kazansky kids, chatting animatedly and absolutely radiating joy. Maverick cleared his throat and straightened up, turning back to Bradley.

“I do have a wedding present for the two of you, but I wanted to run it by you first.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the one I’m more worried about,” Maverick stated, causing Bradley to frown a bit defensively. “I was considering selling the house to the two of you. I would just give it to you, but somehow I don’t think that the two of you will go for that.”

“No,” Bradley agreed, shaking his head. “But, it’s your house.”

“Well, after I finish up a few weeks here, I’m going out to Europe and then after that, who knows? But Cora and Nickie, they’ll be here for at least another year. And that’s Nickie’s childhood home.”

“I’ll talk to Cora about it,” Bradley decided, turning back to watch his wife. “And we’ll go from there.”

“Of course.” Maverick straightened up and grabbed his beer again. “Congratulations.”

Bradley watched Maverick walk off to where Penny was standing with a mix of emotions on his face. But he didn’t have long to stew in his thoughts because Nickie and Amelia came running into his legs to try and escape Slider.

Cora walked off to grab a drink and smiled when she spotted Ice standing over by the cooler, looking like he was waiting for her. He handed her a beer, which Cora took gratefully, and waited for her to take a few sips before making his offer.

“Now, under the short notice, we didn’t really get you a proper wedding present.”

“We didn’t want any,” Cora dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“No, no, you should get one,” Ice stated, reaching into his suit jacket. Pulling out a plastic card, he held it out to her. Cora took it and stared down at it with a confused expression. “It’s a room key to a suite in a hotel across town. You have a night off.”

“Oh, Ice,” Cora breathed, giving him a hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s all paid for. Just go and enjoy your night,” Ice told her, returning the hug.

“Thank you, Ice,” Cora replied, pulling back from the hug.

Bradley and Cora, after the party wound down and they said goodnight to Nickie, drove across town in the Bronco. After the concierge told them the directions to their room, Bradley insisted on carrying Cora over the threshold.

Cora laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting him carry her and set her down on the bed. Kicking off her shoes, Cora pulled Bradley down for a needy kiss. Bradley hiked up her dress and let his hands roam over his wife—that’s right, his wife—as Cora hurried with the buttons of his jacket.

They wasted no time in sharing their first night as a married couple, unwilling to let go of each other or be parted for very long. But when they eventually settled down, Bradley got up from the bed to grab a towel and some champagne for them. Picking up the bottle, Bradley read the note on the back.

“I am not responsible for any children that may come out of tonight’s activities. Be responsible. From Ice,” he read aloud, shaking his head before returning to his wife’s side.

~~~~~

Today was the day that Bradley had to say goodbye. The jubilation from the wedding had died down and now he had to board a plane and fly to the other end of the country. San Diego International Airport was packed that morning and Bradley kept a tight hold on Nickie as they waited in line for him to check his bags.

Cora was silent behind him, her gaze focused forward, and her hand gently brushing against his back every few steps. The attendant took Bradley’s bag and checked them before handing over his ticket. Bradley thanked them before leading his family over to the security checkpoint. Setting down his backpack, Bradley kneeled down to Nickie’s height.

“You’re going to be a good boy for Mommy, right?”

“Yeah,” Nickie whimpered, nodding to his dad.

“And you’re going to listen to your teacher and do well in school too, right?” Bradley continued, brushing Nickie’s hair back with his hand.

“Yeah,” Nickie agreed, letting out a quiet sob.

Bradley held out his arms and Nickie ran into them without hesitation. Cora tried to not break down herself as Nickie’s cries reached her ears. A few people glanced over at them with pitied glances and Cora tried to not let it get to her. Bradley moved to stand up, but Nickie refused to let go of him, so he stood up with Nickie in his arms.

Turning to Cora, he took in her appearance for a moment before pulling her in for a tight hug. Cora fisted the back of his uniform, burying her face into his chest, and letting out a few tears herself. It had been so long since Bradley was that far away from them for an extended period of time, and she wasn’t ready for it. She had gotten used to his presence. She had incorporated him into her life, into Nickie's life, completely.

And now it felt like there was a piece missing.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bradley replied, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’ll text you when I land.”

They shared an emotional kiss before Cora pulled away, knowing that he had to go. She gently pulled Nickie into her arms, causing him to cry harder and fight her hold. Tucking him against her chest, she motioned for Bradley to go.

He leaned down and grabbed his backpack before giving her one last kiss and his family one last squeeze before he left. Cora waited until he disappeared around the corner before letting out a choked sob herself. She wouldn't let herself fully breakdown with Nickie in her arms. Turning quickly for the parking garage, she held her son tight to her chest and rubbed his back.

“I want Daddy!” Nickie sobbed into her shoulder, causing Cora to whimper herself.

“I know, sweetheart. I want him here too,” she whispered, resting her head against Nickie’s own, walking quicker to avoid prying eyes. “But he’ll be back. And we’ll call him every night, okay?”

“But why is he leaving?”

“He has to go to work, sweetheart. That’s all.”

“But we need him!”

“I know, baby. I know," Cora whimpered softly, resting her head on top of his own.

Meanwhile, Bradley was sitting in a stall in the bathroom of the airport, head in his hands as he silently sobbed. He always knew that he wanted to be a naval aviator. But now, right when he was on the cusp of training to become one, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing.

Tags: @praline357@luv4kani@oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo@abaker74@lt-spork@shanimallina87

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster series

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berberriescorner · 1 year

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Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part One)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part One) 4,100+/9,000+. Sorry, lovelies, I couldn’t stop😆.

A/N: Yes, it’s lengthy, but the idea snowballed into something unexpected. I hope you all enjoy it!

Inspired By:

Lounging lazily on your king-size bed, you laid on your back comfortably in an oversized t-shirt. You silently scrolled through Instagram. Your breath hitched at the feel of fingertips gently stroking your calves. Still staring at the phone screen, a wicked little idea popped into your head. You smirked, tapping the add a new post button. Using your free hand, you positioned it atop the head that rested on your pelvis and between your thighs. Not wanting to give him reason to stir, you gently stroked his head, and he relaxed into your touch. The movement of your hand paused long enough to snap the picture. He was none the wiser as he continued to search for something to watch on HBO Max. Eyes still searching the screen, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Soft ass thighs.”

A soft moan fell from your lips. You made sure Yahya’s face wasn’t in the shot. Your digits glided across the keyboard, adding a Nicki Minaj lyric as the caption, “My man full, he just ate💦😘.” You tapped the post button and laid your phone on the nightstand.

Yahya had just licked you to tears. No one knew about the two of you. That you started as best friends turned into a sneaky link. The both of you have secretly been trying to figure out what this was morphing into. Unsure of where things were going, you decided to keep things quiet. You both enjoyed teasing the people in your inner circle on IG (they were all extremely nosey). Thus the reason for posting said pic—that it would sometimes get a rise out of the other person was a bonus.

Yahya received a notification that you had posted. Still lying between your legs, he teased, “What thirst trap are you posting now?” He froze, seeing a picture of his current position. He huffed, “You for real?”

Yahya rolled over, still lying on top of your stomach. His hand rained down on your thigh.

“I thought this was supposed to be on the low? You damn near ripped my head off for telling my bro I was over here in the middle of the night. I guess the rules only apply to me,” Yahya grumbled. His face changed from frustration to a sly grin.

“Boy, calm down. Nobody’s going to know that’s you. That’s what makes it so exciting, you teased. “And why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”

“I just noticed the caption, so I’m your man now?”

“Don’t do too much. They’re just lyrics. Relax, my guy.”

“Yeah, right. When are we going to stop playing this game?”

“What game, Yah'?”

“Stop acting like this isn’t more than just a sneaky link now. I’ve been blowing your back out for over four months.”

“And I greatly appreciate it. Why do we have to get into specifics? We have amazing sex. No need to make it more complicated.”

“Are you dating anyone else? I know you better not be fucking anybody other than me, Y/N.”

“I’d hardly call a few dinner dates that haven’t gone past friends, dating. It’s been nothing but innocent, Yah'.”

His jaw ticked at the revelation of you being in the presence of another man’s company.

“For the record, I don’t make a habit of having more than one sexual partner. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“You refuse to let that shit go, huh? I slept with her one time! We had just started whatever this was at the time. I cut her off once I knew this wasn't a one-and-done situation. Who exactly did you go on a date with, sweetheart?”

The question and term of endearment dripped with jealousy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for more confrontation. There was no doubt in your mind that the answer would upset him.

“Michael. I know you don’t like him. We just went on two dates. Nothing happened, Yah'.”

He pulled into a seated position on the mattress.

“Out of all these thirsty ass dudes that beg for your attention. He had to be the one you said yes to. How many times have I told you that’s a waste of your time? How do I get you to understand that he just wants to knock you down?”

“Is that not what you’re doing with me?“

“Stop that shit. You know how I feel about you. Your ass doesn't want to hear it because you’re scared. We both know this could be so much more.”

“This is stupid. Why are we arguing? We’re not a couple. This is supposed to be easy and chill.”

“There you go deflecting as usual,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to delete the damn picture, Yahya? It’s the reason this conversation even took place.”

“No, no. Leave it up. You know what? You’re right, love. Lay back down. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

Yahya was the least bit worried about your IG post. It was only for close friends, and he wanted them to wonder. Acting angry was just a means to an end. He had a reason to get his lick back. Now, he had an excuse for what he was planning.

Hearing you went on two dates with Michael sent jealousy coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to keep his enemies closer. Seeing that you were focused on the show, he went to Instagram. Yahya went to Michael’s page and added him to his close friends.

He wanted to see how your friends were reacting to your photo. He pulled up your page and skimmed through the comments. Yahya chuckled at your best friend's comment. In bold letters, she said, “Okay, best friend! I see you! No clue who that is, but get that head in your comfortable bed! Yaaasss👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾. I expect full details and a face reveal when we link tomorrow. I’m tired of all this damn anonymity.” Yahya laughed, knowing that you weren’t giving up any information.

Yahya waited two days before he put his plan in motion. He hit your line, inviting you for a movie night at his place. You were sure the night would end on your back with Yahya between your thighs. Anytime the two of you were alone, your hands always seemed to roam. Every time you two gave into temptation, it would go for rounds. Knowing this, you brought an overnight bag. He knew just how to put you to sleep.

Only twenty minutes into the movie, you were already at the edge of the mattress. Yahya placed you on all fours with your box braids wound tightly around his hand. He tugged at them, pulling you into the most perfect of arches. His free hand crept to the top of his nightstand. You were plunged deep into the throes of passion and hadn’t noticed him pick up his phone. The only light in the room came from the television. Pistoning in and out of your tight walls, he managed to open Instagram. Yahya needed it to be pitch black to pull off his scheme.

“Nobody watching this shit for real, baby. Alexa! Turn off the tv in the master bedroom,” he groaned.

The tv shut off as he pulled out and slammed back into your slick heat.

“Ye-yes. Fuck, baby,” you cried, arching your back deeper.

His face lit up at that. He continued giving slow, deep strokes as he recorded you both in the dark.

Yahya made sure this was for close friends only. With confirmation, he laid the phone on the mattress next to the two of you. He proceeded to put in work, going crazy in your walls. Your sweet, soft, and sensual moans were like music to his ears. You were used to Yahya laying some good pipe, but tonight he was on demon time. This man was trying to tear your walls down and ruin you for any other man.

“Feel me deep in your shit, baby?”

You moaned in response.

He thrust so deep that your hands instantly flew to his abdomen. You tried to push back against his stomach, wanting him to take it easy on you. He growled, binding your wrist with his free hand.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he half moaned, half growled. His hand let go of your hair and rained down, smacking and grabbing your left cheek. He slapped the right cheek before burying his digits in your braids again. “I thought you could take all of it, baby? That’s what you begged for. Right, love? Hmm? This ain’t what you wanted?”

You whimpered.

A faint “Please, Daddy” escaped your lips.

“What is it, baby? Use your words.”

“I can-ah!”

“Yes, you can, baby. You gon’ be my good girl, and take it,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your back, fully sheathing himself inside you. His length tapped that spot deep within you.

“Y-yes, baby, I’ll take it, g-give me that di-Yes, Yah'!”

Yahya tapped at your spot repetitively, sending you spiraling. You buried your face in the mattress, clawing at the bedding. Your release approached, barreling toward you like a freight train as you attempted to muffle your screams in the sheets.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. Each word was highlighted with another thrust. “Yeah, come just like that, mama.”

Satisfied with himself, Yahya ended the video and posted it to his stories. He hoped none of your closest friends would recognize your voice. There was only one person he needed to figure it out, Michael. Yahya knew you were going to throw a fit, but so long as nobody could see you. He felt he could get you to be cool with it. Leaning against you, he licked, nibbled, and kissed your shoulder. He was still plunged deep inside you and solid as a rock. Yahya’s lips trailed over to your ear. Releasing a deep groan, he rasped, “Hope you got one more in you, love. Daddy needs to come too. He pulled out until it was just the tip. About to respond, he plunged deep inside, forcing you to gasp. Yahya pulled two more orgasms from your body before spilling inside you.

He made quick work of getting a warm cloth to clean you up. You moaned at the sweet actions of his aftercare. Yahya smirked at how easily it was to turn you on. He swaggered into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself up.

Collapsing into bed, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours. Rolling onto your side, you pushed back against him, making yourself the little spoon. Yahya’s hand crept from your thigh and up the side of your body. His large palm found its destination as it gently cupped your breast. His lips left light kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“You’re always trying to cop a feel,” you sassed, sucking your teeth.

“You know this is my emotional support Titty.”

“Shut up, Yah',” you giggled.

Yahya bit his lip and smirked as he tweaked your nipple.

“Uhn-uh! If you’re going to be on my body like this, your ass needs to behave and sit still. I’m exhausted thanks to your big dick bandit ass,” you teased.

“You know you like that shit,” he responded, tugging at your nipple again.

He pressed his semi-hard erection against you. The action caused your breath to hitch.

“Tell me you don’t want me again, and I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

About to reply sarcastically, you lost your train of thought as he dipped his hand between your thighs.

“You were saying something, love?”

“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” you panted.

“Come here, mama. Want you to ride me.”

Sliding down his length, it became clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Yah', baby,” you whined.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make you feel good. Ride me, mama,” he urged, guiding your hips.

Though he had fallen asleep satiated and peacefully, his morning was the opposite. Yahya jolted out of his sleep as he struggled to breathe. You had covered his face with a pillow while chastising him.

“I just know your big-headed ass didn’t record us fucking and post it to close friends! Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

Yahya's hand tugged at the pillow over his face. He snatched the pillow, throwing it across the room. He overpowered you, flipping you onto your back as he smirked.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want your side hoes to find out about me?”

“The only side hoe I have is you.”

“Naw, sweetheart. I’m your main dude. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Whatever! You better hope nobody recognizes my voice, freaky ass,” you kissed your teeth.

“Oh, I hope they do,” he smiled. “You’re not even mad, for real. I know that shit lowkey turns you on. Listen to those pretty little moans, mama.”

You did your best to bite back a smile but lost. Yahya licked his lips, giving you a million-dollar smile.

“I know I sound good. You ain’t gotta sweat me or nothin’.”

“I should’ve left the lights on while I recorded that shit. Give them something to really talk about.”

“You want to tell people we fuck so bad,” you teased.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I’ma make you mine, shortie. You can continue to run from it but in the end. You’re going to be mine.”

Wanting to avoid such a touchy topic, you switched the subject.

“Boy, shut up and feed me. I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast, best friend?”

Yahya smiled devilishly, “This dick.”

“Nasty ass. I want food, Yah',” you whined.

“That’s a whole ass meal, fuck you mean?”

Eyes rolling and smacking your teeth, he laughed.

“I forgot how cranky you can be in the mornings. Let’s get the baby’s tummy full. What do you want to eat, baby girl,” he responded in his best baby voice.

“Can you make french toast and bacon? You make it better than I do,” you asked in a cute tone.

“You know I can’t say no to that voice and face. Come on, spoiled brat,” he teased as he slapped your thigh.

Yahya scooped you from the bed, dangling your body over his shoulder. His hand grabbed a handful of your behind, giving it a loud smack.

“Ouch, Yah'! That hurt,” you whined.

“I didn’t mean to smack it that hard. My bad,” he smirked, rubbing the pain away.

“Lying ass.”

Carting you off to the kitchen, he got you fed and full. Neither of you had anything planned. The two of you spent the remainder of your Sunday binging television and ordering takeout.

When the time came for you to head out, Yahya felt his chest tighten. He was sad to see you leave. If only you two could figure out where to go from here. He’d have you sleeping in his bed every night. Little did you know, your best friend’s feelings for you had existed as long as the friendship had. He just never knew how to tell you. The chemistry and attraction lingered between the two of you. That is, until one drunken night, he did something about it. He fell back on his couch, missing you already, as his mind drifted back to that night.

You were spiraling down a black hole of heartbreak. Yahya came running to offer support and a listening ear to vent to.

His fist balled up, jaw flexing as his memory replayed the image of you opening the door.

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy as you did your best to keep from crying again. Yahya’s heart sank seeing how distraught you were. He stepped closer to you, and in a low baritone, he said, “Hey, mama.” The sympathy in his soothing voice sent a fresh trail of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Yahya’s chin rested on your head as you curled into his chest, body trembling as the tears flowed. “You’re going to be straight, mama. I promise I got you,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He gave you a minute or two to let it all out. Releasing you, he bent back, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears. Yahya leaned forward, sweeping you up bridal style. “Let’s get you comfy on the couch. I’ll fix us some drinks and snacks. Then you can tell me everything, alright?” Giving him a faint nod, Yahya kicked the door closed. He made quick work of getting you situated on the couch. Yahya wrapped you in your comfort blanket. Gently kissing your forehead, he whispered, “Be right back, love.”

He called from the kitchen, “Are you in the mood for something light or heavy?”

“This calls for the hard shit. Bring the tequila. I don’t even need a damn chaser. Give me something that will make me forget the last twenty-four hours.”

Yahya strode back into the living room, alcohol in hand.

“What are you about to tell me, love?”

“Maybe you should take a couple of shots first.”

Yahya set the shot glasses and bottle on the coffee table. His hand ran down his face as he took a deep breath, “Am I going to have to beat his ass?”

You sat up straight, dropping the blanket around your waist. Pouring two shots, you answered, “Just promise me you won’t lose your temper.”

“No.”

“Yah', please,” you begged, voice trembling.

“The desperation in your voice tells me that I’m going to regret this, but fine, I promise not to lose my temper. What happened?”

“Drink first.”

Shots were thrown back, and you grimaced, pouring out two more. After the second, you started to pour another round, but Yahya’s hand gently grasped your wrist, “No-.”

A small whimper fell from your lips as his eyes grew. Yahya’s eyes darted from your weary ones down to your wrist. His hands were like lightning as he slid your sleeve up a bit.

“No, fuck that, mama! Is this a bruise?”

“You promised, Yah'.”

“Promises are meant to be broken. Where the fuck is his punk ass at?”

He sprang from the couch, searching his pockets for his keys.

“Where’s he at?”

“No, please, Yahya. You promised! I handled it.”

“Why are you protecting his bitch ass? Has he been putting his hands on you this whole time?”

“I’m not protecting him. I know he’ll press charges against you. It’s not worth it. This is the only time it’s happened, honestly!”

“Don’t lie for him. Tell. Me. Where. He. Is.”

“I’m not lying, Yah'. This is the first time. I handled it, I swear. You should see the side of his face. I smacked the shit out of him.”

“Did he hit you anywhere else,” he asked, checking your face and body for more bruises.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. We were arguing about him getting caught up in his lies and cheating. I told him I was done and that he needed to get the hell out of my house. This dude had the nerve to snatch my wrist, demanding I hear him out. I told him he was hurting me. His response was he didn’t give a fuck. That pissed me off, so I slapped him. He charged at me, and I kicked him in the nuts. How do you cheat on me with a bitch I called a friend and have the nerve to be mad that I no longer wish to be with you? The audacity!”

“I pray he tries to show up while I’m here.”

“He won’t. It’s over, and he understands that now.”

Yahya looked at you, not quite believing it.

“I told his ass if he tried contacting or coming near me again that you’d beat his ass. That or he was going to have a chat with Nina.”

“Thought you didn’t want me to put hands on him. You swear your ass is tough with that baby Glock. Who the fuck puts hot pink on the butt of their gun,” he retorted.

“I don’t want you to, smart-ass, but he knows you would. It was only said to get my point across that I was done with him. Not too much on my baby, Nina.”

Yahya sighed, frustrated that he’d have to keep his promise. He reclaimed his spot on the couch, crossing his arms irritated. You kissed your teeth, “I know you're not mad at me for keeping you out of trouble?”

“It’s whatever. He needs his ass beat, though,” he sulked.

“Just leave it alone, Yah'.”

“I heard you the first time.”

The room grew quiet. It stayed that way for a little while. That was until he heard you sniffling.

“I’m not mad at you, love. I just really want to rock his shit.”

“I know you’re not mad at me. It’s just.”

“What is it, mama?”

“Am I not good enough? Dudes do me dirty, and people I call friends turn out to be grimy. You’re the only person who has always been down for me. I’m so thankful for your years of loyalty and friendship,” you rambled, tears sliding down your face.

Yahya pushed his anger aside, taking a deep breath. His hands reached for your arm, pulling you into him. His palm cradled your head, guiding you to lie against his chest. He kissed your temple, speaking words of encouragement.

“That’s just god's way of making room for the real ones to come into your life, mama. You’re going to be alright, love. You’ll shake back from this. You’re strong, girl. The right man is out there. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

As he held you, speaking enlightenment into you. Something shifted inside you. Not quite sure what the feeling was, you shook it off.

“More tequila,” you offered.

The pair of you went shot for shot. It only took a short time for you both to get drunk off your asses. In a drunken stupor, you both laughed as you recounted the numerous times you had to fake a climax with your ex. Yahya was in tears, holding his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.

“This man had to be talked through eating the box. Every. Single. Time. At what point do you finally get the gist of eating pussy? I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.”

“Why did you stay?”

“The dick was big.”

A hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips, shocked at what you had just revealed.

“Sorry. That was probably too much information. I need to stop drinking,” you slurred, no longer able to look him in the eyes.

Yahya cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Not too much. That’s some pretty useful information,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched as you looked into his chocolate orbs.

“I don’t follow.”

“That’s what you like, mama?”

Yahya’s hand trailed to your neck. His fingers circled your throat, giving a light squeeze. You knew you should pull away, but your mind and body said two different things.

“Yahya,” you whispered.

“Answer me, mama. That’s what you like?”

You moaned, nodding your head yes. Yahya licked his lips at your response.

“I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to make sure you understand what I’m trying to say,” he groaned.

The liquor urged you to take it further. You leaned closer, his hand still squeezing your throat. Lips only inches apart, Yahya watched in awe as you answered, breath tickling his lips.

“I love a big, long, thick di-.”

Before you could finish the sentence, Yahya groaned and devoured your lips. Not giving it a second thought, he slid you on top of his lap as your tongues battled for dominance. Hand still placed around your neck, you ground against his lap, loving the groan he released.

“I can see why that was useful information now,” you purred.

It was evident, even inside his jeans, you could feel that he was massively large. You pulled back, slipping your shirt off, dropping it to the floor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your breast as he cupped them, kissing and suckling your neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want, mama?”

“Yes, I want you, Yah'. Fuck the pain away, please.”

Kissing your lips again, he held you close as he raised from the sofa. Arms wrapped around his neck. You tasted each other's lips as Yahya carried you to the bedroom. The following morning wasn’t even awkward. That’s probably because you woke up with Yahya’s head between your thighs. A serious discussion occurred over breakfast. Though you both decided it probably shouldn’t happen again, time would reveal that it was too late to turn back.

I know I left it on yet another cliffhanger, but that's my specialty😆. I got my lovelies, though. The fic is complete, so slide on over to part two. Before you go, leave a comment and tap the love button. Reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏾!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

#berberriescorner #nobody's gonna know #part one #daddy yahya #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #yahya abdul mateen ii x black!reader #yahya abdul mateen ii x reader #black writer #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #yahya fanfiction #yahya fic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #spotify

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3,705

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of blood/anxious lip picking, anxiety attack, talk of self-harming behaviors, mentions of abuse/toxic relationships/neil, fluff

a/n: wow. hi! i’m sorry it took so long for me to get this out. school has been a lot lately. thank you for all the positive feedback on the previous parts and for sticking around! also this isn’t the last part. i lied. there will be one more. anyhow there’s a lot of heavy stuff in this part, but also a lot of love. i hope you enjoy it and maybe find something in it. love you loads and loads <3333

before you read, listen to: when it’s cold i’d like to die by moby and/or slipping through my fingers by ABBA

————

Billy did not hear from you yesterday, or the day before that. He hasn’t been worried, per say, because it’s not like he’ll die if he can’t speak to you at all times.

But today, on the third day, he starts to be a little upset by the absence of you.

He really doesn’t like it when it’s Nicky that calls him, rather than you.

“Are you busy today, hon’?” Her voice is sweet as always.

“No, I’m not,” Billy tells her. He licks his lips, a little uneasy.

“Do you think you could come over for a while?”She asks. “Y/N just left, which is big, but she’s going out with some old friends, and I’m a little worried. She had a really hard time getting over them, and I’ve got somewhere to be for awhile and I just don’t want her to be alone after all of this.”

Nicky stops, inhaling. She realizes she’s been rambling to her poor boy. She starts to apologize, and Billy stops her, laughing a little.

“I can do that, yeah. Who was she having lunch with? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He can hear Nicky sigh.

“Nancy.”

————

Billy is on your front steps when you pull up. He’s smoking, but he stomps it out when he sees you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says.

Your hands are shaking so bad that you drop your keys. Billy picks them up for you, and it’s only when he looks you over that he realizes something’s not right.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You’re wringing your hands continuously, as if trying to prevent doing something else. He steps closer to you, because you’re biting his lip, and he goes to pull it free like he always does.

There’s blood on the tip of his thumb when he pulls it away.

“Y/N, you’ve made yourself bleed.”

You lick your lips, tasting metal. You blink at him. Billy looks closer at your mouth, realizing there’s a welt and that it’s swollen on one side.

“Come on and let me clean it up, okay?”

You nod and let the boy lead you inside your home. Billy tries to get you to sit on the counter, but you stop him.

“I just need a second,” you say.

It’s the first thing you’ve said to him thus far, and Billy finds himself relieved to hear your voice, even if the shakiness of it matches that of your hands.

You use your hands to brace yourself against the counter, leaning your head forward to face the floor. You close your eyes and try to breathe.

Billy doesn’t know what to do, so he rubs his hand up and down the curve of your spine. It feels warm against your back.

He kisses the crown of your head and suddenly you straighten, a slightly panicked look in your eye, though Billy can tell you’re trying to repress it.

“I need you to help me,” you tell him, running your hands down your face.

“Anything,” Billy says, worried over your state of being.

“I’m having an anxiety attack and I need you to help calm me down because my heart is beating so fast that I feel like I can’t breathe and everything is shaking and I just—I just, I need you.”

“To talk to me or something. I need you to be here with me for a minute.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t need convincing.

Billy brings his hands to your face, stroking his thumbs over your unusually warm cheeks. His eyes dart all over you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You nod, locking your eyes with his. You study his eyelashes, the way they kiss at the corners and leave shadows on the tops of his cheeks in the light.

“Breathe with me.”

“Okay.”

In and out. In and out. You focus on the way Billy is breathing, and that seems to help. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest rather than worrying about the feeling in yours.

“How long do they usually last?” Billy inquires. “The heart palpitations.”

“Little while. Half hour, little less, little more. Depends on if I can get myself calmed down.”

Billy presses his lips to your forehead, keeping them there for a moment. They’re chapped, but it’s still chilly outside, so it makes sense. The cold is the same reason for the cracks in the skin on the back of your hands.

“Sit up on the counter for me, baby. I’m gonna get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You do as he says, balancing yourself on the edge of the bathroom vanity. Your tongue darts out to swipe over your lip, and Billy was right. You can feel the swelling and the welt he mentioned.

You’ve always done it when stressed or uncomfortable. It’s not always this bad though. You just kept going and going after lunch today, even after it had started to bleed.

The boy returns as he’d said he would, a glass of water in hand. He gives it to you and watches to make sure you’re successfully drinking.

“Can I look at it?” Billy gestures vaguely in the direction of your lip.

“Uh huh.” You fight the urge to cover your mouth like you have before, like when your mother has noticed it’s scabbed.

Billy uses his thumb to press on your lip, examining the damage you’ve done to it. He’s chewed his before when anxious, but never like this. But he guesses he’s expressed these feelings you’re having in other ways.

He takes the change to pull at your lip a little too, noticing you’ve torn at the inside just as well as the outside.

“It hurt?”

You snort. “No. Feels great.”

Billy rolls his eyes at you, and then he’s feeling around in his pockets. You take another big sip of water while you’re observing him. It’s almost empty, so you decide to finish it. He waits for you to do so.

When you have, Billy swipes his pinky along the edge of your mouth to catch a drop of water. He presents what he’d been searching for: a little pot of chapstick. He figures if you’ve got something on your lips you can’t fuck them up as easily.

“You gonna let me put this on you?” He asks, features soft.

“Kiss it better first?”

Billy smirks, proud of your ability to flirt with him.

“I shouldn’t. Should leave it alone until it heals some.”

You pout.

He kisses you anyways.

When he pulls away, he unscrews the lid to the balm and you hook your fingers in his belt loops. He dips his index finger in and brings it to your mouth, spreading it over the sore spot and then over the remaining expanse of your lips.

You rub them together after he’s finished.

“Thank you.” Billy nods, returning the container to the depths of his jean pockets.

“Will you tell me what’s got you so worked up?” He helps you off of the counter. You leave the bathroom and head to your bedroom. He follows without a second thought.

You gesture for him to sit down, but you remain standing so that you can pace as you speak.

“I saw Nancy today.”

“Yeah?” Billy knows this, and you know he does, but he wants you to let it all out.

“Yeah,” you start. “She asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was doing okay.”

“And she said ‘You must be doing better if you’re out by yourself, doing big girl stuff.’ What the fuck does that even mean, Billy?” It’s a rhetorical question. One he doesn’t answer.

“She made it sound like I was incapable of being anything but a loner. Like I can’t take care of myself or something? It just got me thinking about how she always thought I was so odd for not being like her.”

Billy wishes you would sit down. Your pacing is stressing him out.

“Then Nancy asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I said you.”

You sit, and Billy’s shoulders relax.

“She acted surprised, Billy.”

“She said, ‘I guess I’m just shocked. I guess I thought he wasn’t someone that really dated.’ And then, ‘You know, I know we aren’t really close anymore, but you could so do better than him.’”

You’re standing again. Billy realizes that you’re pissed off. He’s never seen you this way before. He kind of likes it.

“And she’s basing this off of, what, one interaction she’s had with you? Whatever she hears around school? Shit, she doesn’t even know you. She doesn’t even know me anymore, and the fact that she’s just blatantly giving me relationship advice?”

“Billy, I yelled at her.”

He laughs. Tosses his head back and laughs. He wishes he could’ve seen you rip Nancy Wheeler a new one. In fact, he would’ve paid to do so.

You start grinning at him. He’s so proud of you.

“I just—she made me so mad and I just started shouting at her. It just felt so unfair, the way she was acting. I only agreed to go today because I thought I might get closure after feeling forgotten about for so long. And I told her that.”

“She claimed she didn’t forget about me, but that she just ‘found a different social circle.’ Fuck! So I told her that she had no right telling me what to do with my life when she sure as shit never cared before. And I couldn’t let her talk about you either.”

You finish, setting your hands on your hips. Billy stands and takes your face into his hands again.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N. That you went out today and then stood up for yourself. The yelling is pretty badass too. And I appreciate you defending me. It’s nice to know you’d do that even when I’m not there.”

“Of course I would.” You grab his hand and kiss his palm. “Thank you.”

He nods. “So how come you fucked up your lip then?”

“Trying to deal with it, I guess. I felt bad the whole way home. Like maybe I’d been a bitch or something.”

“Hey, no. You aren’t a bitch for wanting better and for saying so.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

The both of you have been so caught up in handling this that you didn’t hear Nicky come home, or wander through the house putting groceries away. You only realize she’s there when her voice comes from across the hall.

“He’s right, honeybee! Not a bitch!” She exclaims, and then she’s shutting the door to her room. She just needed to make sure you heard that. She’s proud of you too.

You bury your face in Billy’s neck and he’s laughing so much that you have to move your head.

“I hate you both.”

“I bet you do. Guess you won’t need any make-it-better kisses then.”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah. Nope. No more.”

“Please?” You grab hold of his hips.

Billy stares at you. He’s going to break. You both know it. But he can’t resist the urge to pretend like he won’t, just for a second.

He kisses you, once, twice.

When he pulls away he puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back. His fingertips slip just underneath the waistband of your jeans. Suddenly he looks very serious.

“Have you done that before?” He asks. You know what he means. And you know the answer.

“Yes,” you say. Billy closes his his for just a second. Something about composure.

“Do you—is it to hurt yourself?”

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking. Trying to articulate a response to this. It’s an anxious habit, sure. Sometimes you’re picking at your lip without even realizing, and you quit when you do.

But other times, maybe that is the case. You pick and bite until your lip is bleeding, until it’s swollen, until it hurts to eat or drink.

“Sometimes.”

Billy inhales and you can see the way his chest shakes.

“Talk to me,” he says. He thinks about chewing on his thumb nail or lighting up. It’s the same thing. A coping mechanism.

“I usually do it if I feel like I need to shut everything out. It’s a distraction from big feelings. Maybe like a punishment if I feel stupid or if I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“You ever told anyone this before?” Billy has pulled you closer than you thought possible, his arm around your back snug like he’s afraid to let you go.

“Just you.”

Billy feels a pang in his chest at that. Just you. Him.

“I don’t want you to shut them out anymore. You feel something big, you talk to me about it, yeah?”

“Okay.” You look so vulnerable. Like he’s looking at a part of yourself you’ve never shown anyone before.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Will you work on this with me?”

“Only if you work on the smoking with me.”

Billy rests his forehead against yours, exhales through his nose.

“Okay.”

————

Billy’s staying the night again. You’re in the shower, so he’s sitting at the counter in your kitchen. He offered to help Nicky fix dinner or wash dishes or do something, but she downright refused.

He’s turned his head to look at a picture of you on the counter. Your senior picture. You look so pretty.

This means that the side of his face is in Nicky’s direct line of sight. The side that Neil hit. He side that’s bruised, despite his hoping it wouldn’t.

Nicky looks up, feeling a jolt in her chest. Something in her just knows. If Billy had been in a fight, you would’ve told her. She knows you would’ve. But if it was a non-school fight, those chances are slim.

She knows. Every cell in her body screams with it.

“Billy, honey? Can I ask you something?”

The boy turns back to face your mother, spinning the ring on his middle finger around and around. “Sure.”

She moves to face the sink so as to not embarrass him.

“How long?”

Billy’s fingers freeze. She knows. Of course she knows. He thinks about pretending he doesn’t have clue what she means. But he knows she’d see right through that.

He buries his face in his hands. “Since I was a kid. Since he couldn’t take it out on my mom anymore.”

Nicky sets the plate she’d been holding down to dry and drains the water from the sink. Dishes can wait.

“Billy, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe here. I think we’ve made that pretty clear, sweetheart.”

The boy straightens and sits on his hands.

“I’m assuming Y/N knows? Probably already looked at it?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Nicky approaches the other side of the counter from where he sits and clasps her hands. “You know that you can come here anytime you need to, right?”

“I know.”

“Y/N said Max is your step-sister. Is your father aggressive towards her or your step-mother?”

Billy hates being asked these questions but for some reason he feels no urge to fight it. He knows Nicky means no harm and only wants the best for him.

“He’s never laid a hand on Max, no. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m not really around Susan much, though, but I’ve never seen her with anything or heard him do anything. He screams at her sometimes, though. He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t treat her any better than he did my mom. They deserve better. Both of them.”

Nicky quirks a brow. “And you don’t?”

Billy’s breath catches. “I don’t know.”

“You do. You deserve the world, hon’.”

Billy blinks, hard. “Thank you.”

“Just telling you the truth, kiddo.”

Nicky goes quiet for a moment, playing with her own rings. One of them you got for her when you were twelve. It has her birthstone set into it.

“You’re eighteen, Billy. Technically your dad doesn’t have any claims to you anymore.” She’s slowly plotting, a steady stream of thoughts forming in her mind.

“Supposing you want to stay with Max, or even in your own home—because I can’t imagine you’d want to be uprooted again—do you think that Susan is capable of taking care of herself and the both of you? Say if Neil weren’t around?”

Billy contemplates this. He’s trying to get past the knowledge that there’s an adult in his life actively and genuinely trying to help him and make sure he’s safe. No one’s ever had a heart-to-heart with him like this. Frankly, he’s at a loss.

“I suppose so. I mean she took care of Max before. And Max was a pretty happy kid, I think. You know, internally. If you look past the sarcasm.”

Nicky laughs. It’s the kind of sound that you miss when you haven’t heard it in awhile.

“I think Max only got sort of reclusive once Neil came in and sort of pushed her dad out. I don’t think I helped either. But yeah, I-I think she could. Take care of us.”

“And I feel wrong saying this, because she’s not my mother, and it’s her life, but I think she needs better. If she wants Max back then she needs to leave Neil. Because Susan is losing Max. I can see it.”

Billy hears the shower shut off from down the hall, the sound of the curtain being pushed aside.

“What if I talked to Susan? Would that make you uncomfortable? Maybe I can get through to her. About Neil. And I can talk to Max, or I can back off.”

He hears the bathroom door open. Sees a flash of you across the hallway in a towel, then the slam of your own bedroom door. It makes him laugh.

Nicky knows exactly what you’ve done. You’ve done the same thing since you were a kid. It warms her heart to see him laugh at little things like that.

“No. It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable,” Billy says. “I would appreciate that, actually. But maybe let me talk to Max first?”

“Anything you need, honey. And I want you to know that this is a safe space, okay? If you ever need somewhere to stay. And the same goes for Max. If she needs to get away or anything.”

Billy looks up at Nicky and she has the kindest smile he’s ever seen. He knows she means everything she’s saying.

He has the urge to hug her and so he does. He hasn’t had a mom to hug in so long.

————

Billy’s driving again. It seems this is the only time he can get himself to talk about the hard stuff with her.

“Max.”

“Huh?” She’s reading a comic book. He doesn’t know how she does that. He’d probably hurl.

“Nicky wants to help Susan leave Neil.”

Max doesn’t move or close the comic, but she does stare at the page for an awfully long time. “So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know, exactly. But I was wondering…do you want me to leave too? Or can I stay?”

Billy has never sounded this raw and emotional around her before. It’s enough to make her face him.

“You think you have to leave?”

“I don’t know if you or Susan are going to want me to stay.”

Max sighs. “I want you to stay. It’d be weird to not have someone in the next room with horrible music playing. Do you want to go?”

“No,” he says, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

“Then stay.”

Stay.

————

“So you’ve verbally brutalized two of the Wheeler women in the last couple of weeks?”

You’re laying on Max’s bed. You can’t help but notice it’s softer than Billy’s but you try not to ponder that for too long.

Susan and Neil aren’t here.

“I wonder if Mike knows this. That he’s got a predatory mother.”

“I don’t know.” You roll onto your back and stare at the posters on her walls.

“If it helps,” she says, pasting a new sticker on her skateboard, “I never liked Nancy anyways. Kinda bitchy.”

You snort, looking at her sticker as she presents it to you. “Very nice,” you say.

“Lucas got it for me.”

“That was sweet of him.”

This time she snorts.

There’s the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. “Uh oh,” you say. “The beast has awoken.”

Max laughs hard enough that she has to slap a hand over her mouth when he appears in the doorway.

Billy looks at you with a scowl on his face before approaching Max’s bed. He flops down on top of you and buries his face in your neck.

“You left me,” he says.

It’s true. You’d been in his room with him, snuggling, though he refuses to call it that. He’d fallen asleep on you, but you didn’t have a book or anything, so after a while, spine aching, you slipped out and left him to nap.

A glance at Max and she’s making a gagging motion at you. You glare toward the sticker she just put on and she rolls her eyes, cornered.

“You fell asleep. I wanted you to rest. And my back started to hurt.” Billy grunts, and you notice the mess that his hair has become. You point it out to Max. She starts grinning and so do you, and it’s as if he can sense it.

“Stop.”

“Not doing anything.”

Billy lifts his head to look at you, brow furrowed and eyes puffy with sleep. There are even sheet marks on the side of his face.

“You’re conspiring.” He collapses back into your chest. “Little shits, both of you.”

You laugh and he whines again because you’ve jostled him.

You look at Max and she crosses her legs over Billy’s back, using her brother as a foot rest. He’s too sleepy to complain. She puts a pillow under her head and settles in, seemingly ready to take her own nap.

Shit, you think. Might as well. And you close your eyes too, petting Billy’s hair as you do. He smiles into you. You can feel it.

And it’s the best nap you’ve ever had.

————

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