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iridescentblued · 14 days

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꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: geto x afab!reader

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 && 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw / 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni! geto is a college algebra math tutor && reader is failing, written in lapslock, geto is a tinie, TINIE bit of a perv (but we love him), not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls geto ‘senpai’ until she doesn’t, size kink. wc; 8.5k

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔. . . this is my first fic on this blog and also my first jjk fic in my entire life so please go easy on me aha i tried to keep it relatively tame, but based on my plans for the future, this will not be a trend sjfigjsfgj. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what suguru had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one geto suguru for college algebra. you were eager for summer, suguru had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for suguru, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more suguru wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. suguru has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” suguru reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, senpai?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” suguru smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, senpai, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, suguru can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did suguru feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. suguru had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

senpai, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. suguru supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, suguru’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, suguru’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort suguru offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and suguru robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. suguru chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” suguru says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. suguru packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

suguru takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when suguru pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“senpai, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for suguru to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and suguru notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, suguru had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and suguru even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, suguru reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. suguru grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and suguru chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad suguru wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, suguru wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — suguru claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and suguru always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and suguru knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

suguru’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, suguru is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“senpai, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all suguru does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, suguru would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for suguru to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“senpai, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and suguru’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“senpai — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

suguru wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him senpai, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, suguru finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” suguru replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” suguru trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, senpai?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

suguru chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and suguru feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — suguru wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. suguru drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “senpai, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not senpai. suguru. call me suguru, angel.”

“s—suguru,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

suguru drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as suguru pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

suguru doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, suguru — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. suguru’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“suguru,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to suguru, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. suguru reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, suguru,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” suguru doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and suguru wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. suguru works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“su— suguru!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “suguru, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close, closecloseclose—”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and suguru wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and suguru almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, senpai.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and suguru chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you

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punkshort · 4 months

Text

somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

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threadbaresweater · 4 months

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Nanami Kento x f!reader. Reader has a sensitive gag reflex and feels insecure about it. Kento is reassuring in more ways than one. Another installment in my series on intimacy. passing mention of vomit (doesn't actually happen in this fic. Mdni.

series masterlist

It isn't that you don't want to suck Kento’s dick. You just...can't.

Well, you can. Sort of. But it isn't like you envisioned it. Not his dick– the actual sucking itself. And it isn't just your current boyfriend's dick. It's the few others in your modest scope of sexual experiences that you've tried– and sort of succeeded– to suck. You've read stories about women being able to “hollow out their cheeks” or “open their throat” to accommodate cocks of every girth and length, but you've never understood how. Not when you've got a gag reflex that activates as soon as the tip hits the back of your throat, and it's simultaneously embarrassing and humiliating when your eyes fill with tears and you almost dry heave into his lap.

It's not as if he asked you to give him head. You want to try. You think maybe since some time has passed since your last relationship, your gag reflex has somehow fixed itself and won't be quite as sensitive. So you give it the old college try. You're sitting pretty between Kento's knees. He's spread for you on the couch; the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie slung carelessly around his neck, and you've discarded his pants in favor of giving yourself plenty of room to work.

You've had sex with him, so you know that his size is somewhat intimidating. You figure you can just…go slow. Suck some blossoms into the tender skin of his thighs, fondle his balls a little, let your tongue dance along his frenulum (you know he's sensitive there). When you wrap your hand around him, you're intimidated by the fact that your fingers just barely close around it. You use your thumb to spread the clear, slippery pre-cum over his tip, and he shudders, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

Kento doesn't talk much when you're intimate like this, and you prefer it that way. You like listening to the way he breathes, or the low growls that seem to vibrate from his chest when you kiss him in just the right spot. But when you lave your tongue up the underside of his cock and take the head of it into your mouth, he groans. Low and deep. “Oh, fuck.”

Here we go, you think. Cheering yourself on to gradually take as much of him as you can into your mouth. He's heavy on your tongue, warm and salt and slick and musk. You make a little sound as if to comfort him (it's okay, baby. I'll make you feel good) and grip his knees to steady yourself as you go a little deeper. You feel the head touch your soft palate and your blood runs cold.

This is when the trouble usually begins. It has a little to do with the taste and texture of his natural lubrication. It isn't…unpleasant, but it isn't exactly one of your favorite things to have on your tongue. Then there's the daunting task of wanting– and trying– to get as much of him in your mouth and into your throat as you can. You hesitate. You swallow. You close your eyes. And just as you're about to give it your all, Kento’s palm is on your forehead.

With a third of his cock still in your mouth, you look up at him through watery eyes. The look on his face is a strange mix of pleasure and disbelief, and your heart lurches. He knows. Somehow, he understands what's happening without you having to say a word.

“Do you want to do this?” he asks. It's barely a whisper, but the concern is palpable. You lock eyes with him and whimper, nodding as much as you can with your mouth full.

He clicks his tongue. “That's not very convincing.”

With a sigh, you release him, replacing your mouth with your hand, which he quickly covers with his own when you start to stroke him.

“Are you doing this because I went down on you the last time we had sex?”

Your face feels suddenly hot, and you rest your cheek on his thigh. “If I said yes, what would you say?”

He strokes the crown of your head. “I'd say that it's not necessary to return the favor.” There's a pause, then he speaks again. “I get the impression that you're a little unsure of yourself.”

It's embarrassing to be called out in the heat of the moment, sure. But there's another not so small part of you that's thankful for his perception. Kento is nothing if not intuitive and carefully attentive to all the little things that make you, you.

“I want to make you feel good,” you say. It sounds pathetic to your ears, and you hope he doesn't think so, too.

“I'll feel good if you feel good,” he says earnestly. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

“I'm not good at this,” you admit. You stand and rid yourself of the remainder of your clothes– there really isn't much left. Kento watches you almost thoughtfully, admiring the dip of your waist, the softness of your belly, the way the muscle of your thighs ripple as you climb into his lap and straddle him. His broad hands slide onto your hips and give them a subtle squeeze, and you lean forward to kiss him, feeling a little more confident.

“Do you think it's important to me that you are?” Kento asks.

“Is it?” you counter.

He captures your lips with his again, using his hands to pull you closer so that the head of his cock brushes against your mons. “Don't be dense.”

You roll your eyes. He kisses your neck. “Kento–”

“What matters to me,” he murmurs, just behind your ear, nudging your jaw with his nose, “is that you are comfortable doing something. If you're not,” he continues, fingers slipping between your legs, “I'll know. And it will not be sexy for me. Because I'll know it's not sexy for you.” His middle finger brushes over your clit, and you bite your lip to quell a soft moan. “Understood?”

“Yes,” you sigh, just as he angles your hips to push himself inside you.

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #between us

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diorcities · 8 months

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⠀ ⠀ ── 𖥻 ๋ 𓈒 ⭐ ࣪ ࣭ ◍ ᜔ being a sleepy head !

nct dream fluff headcanon.

jaemin. at midnight, the sheets tangle on your limbs as his fingers run down your spine in a deliberate gesture. your tongue tangles in your palate and feels heavy as you talk about trivial things while he listens patiently. smiling sweetly when you can't follow the thread of your thoughts at the speed you desire, and your eyes look one last glimpse into his loving eyes before plunging you into a deep sleep. your body is covered by a blanket and you barely hear his voice saying “let's meet again in your dreams.” warming the place where your heart rests.

haechan. he is a night person. even with his schedules, he usually has more sleep resistance than you. you've both put on a series that you've been wanting to watch together, and since I this moments don't happen very often, you plan to spend the whole day curled up next to him. his body is so warm, and his grip comforting, that you soon decide to leave him to go to the ethereal world of dreams. and among the semi-unconsciousness, you think you feel his laugh poking you, “unbelievable, why you choose that boring movie if you were going to fall asleep?” just feeling your body being gently drawn to his “i'll tell you how the movie ends in the morning.”

jisung. the different time zones had your internal clock pretty damaged and crazy, to the point where you slept all afternoon and were more than awake at night. therefore, your night endurance is greater than jisung's. even on his day off, the poor boy does nothing but sleep. silence settles in the room when you know he's not listening to you anymore, hearing to the slight snoring of the boy with the cold nose on your neck, feeling him stir between dreams, “oh- fuck,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face, “did i fall asleep?” he asks. “pretty much, yeah.” you hear his muffled laugh, but deep down it makes you happy that he rests properly, especially when you know his workday. his only response is get closer to you. “keep talking, i swear i won't fall asleep this time.” quick spoiler: he did.

mark. it is a habit to put on a film and not pay attention to it while talking and using it as background noise. both of you have fairly tight schedules, and believe it is possible to do everything at the same time, such as ordering food delivery and chatting while watching a movie. but honestly, you are so exhausted, that the film takes a back seat while you both have your intimate moment full of kisses and caresses. it's impossible not to fall asleep for both of you. and even in the limbo of dreams, you're there with him, and he's talking to you while he sleeps, “i love you.”

renjun. he does not usually rest for long, and many times (only when you are aware that he is not by your side sleeping) you see him at his desk writing new entries in his diary, or painting with his watercolors. you are aware, too, that he does that when he is very overwhelmed or overloaded with things. and even when he goes back to bed the moment you notice his absence and wake up, or call his name, you worry that he's keeping him hidden from you; the way he uses art to release all the weight that keep him awake. “you scared me,” he pronounces shyly when you approach him and rest your head on his shoulder, “i woke you up? forgive me...” he stops his word when you shake your head, “should we go to bed, then?” he wonders, but again, you deny. “finish this first, love.” you smile tenderly, snuggling into him as he returns to his drawing: somewhat kind of similar to you.

chenle. having a tight schedule makes it difficult to see chenle often. you never seem to coincide because you leave first thing in the morning and when you arrive exhausted to sleep, chenle returns until late at night. he scolds you on occasion when you insist on staying up even when you both know that means you'll feel sleepy at work. in the end, he lets you do what you want, because deep down, he misses your long chats before going to bed. “so... one of my... coworkers said...” your eyelids close on their own, you swear by your life. and your tongue feels so heavy, but you must keep going, because seriously, seriously it's funny, “have you- seen my... sandwich?... and i said..., it's in...” chenle waits for the punchline while he strokes your hair, but it never comes, so with a amused smile dancing on his lips, he turns off the lamp. “your mouth?” he wonders at the ceiling, widening his eyes, “the toilets?”

jeno. the letters change places when you look at them for a long time. you blink, your eyelids heavy linger towards the empty coffee cup next to your notes; your attempt to do an all-nighter has been unsuccessful as you feel the sleep spell take control of your body. “come, darling,” seems to whisper sandman in your ear. as you are in the limbo between the two universes, your body seems to float and be welcomed by his warm embrace, followed by the gentle movement that lullies you back when jeno takes you to his room.

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream headcanons #nct dream fluff #nct dream fluff headcanons #haechan fluff #mark lee fluff #jaemin fluff #jeno fluff #renjun fluff #chenle fluff #jisung fluff #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #♡dream

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 7 months

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What a bore

AN: Beginning the birthday festivities with ChanCheol. I had a more ambitious birthday fic in mind but, figuring out the logistics of sex with six men was a nightmare lol so, I settled on the top two for this year. Maybe I'll tackle the whole line next year.

Synopsis: Your coworkers are mostly palatable people, really, they are. Except for Yoon Jeonghan, who has quickly become the bane of your existence in the months since you've transferred. He thinks you don't do anything beyond work and stay in your apartment, and he has no problem telling you that. You're more than happy to prove him wrong with the help of your willing coworkers: Seungcheol and Chan.

General tags and warnings: Choi Seungcheol x Fem! Reader x Lee Chan, Non-Idol AU, coworkers to coworkers who fuck, they all work within a company with a pretty prominent drinking culture so, alcohol and alcohol consumption and Jeonghan is an asshole in this (there are elements of peer pressure and he's pretty passive-aggressive but, he does get somewhat better).

Smut tags: petnames, not exactly sex in an elevator, but there are moments of Chan and Reader getting hot and heavy in an elevator, they all have sex after drinking (no one is drunk, and everything is consensual), dirty talk, possessiveness if you squint, praise, nipple play (f. receiving), strength kink if you squint, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), overstimulation (f. receiving), Seungcheol licks Chan's fingers, piv sex without a condom, hair pulling, mild degradation, objectification if you squint, creampies, manhandling and aftercare.

Word count: 12.3K (*clown noises*)

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Thursdays, typically, are days you don't care for. They're a stepping stone to the true hero of the week: Fridays. However, at Martinz, you've come to learn over the course of your past two months here, Thursdays were the best day of the week. It's in the way everyone glances at the clock, waiting for 17:00 to roll around. Almost everyone in the office practically jumping out of their poorly supported chairs as soon as the clock strikes. Hurriedly tugging on their jackets and making their way Jun's for drinks on the company's dime.

You've opted out since you've started here. Not really seeing the appeal in getting drunk with your coworkers when you still need to report for work the next morning. Especially knowing you don't exactly have the same tolerance you did when you were much, much younger. You're more than content to spend your Thursday nights bundled under your favourite blanket and catching up on your shows for the week.

Seungcheol, Chan and Jeonghan always extend an invitation without fail. Two sets of pleading eyes begging you to join them for the night while one is knowing but, he extends an invitation along with your other two coworkers nonetheless. You always decline. Appreciating their desire to include you but, you've never really been the type to interact with the people you work with more than necessary. It's how you operated at all of your previous jobs so, you don't see why anything would be any different here.

Seungcheol and Chan are understanding. To the point where guilt does twist up your insides a little but, their megawatt smiles help assuage any of it. Jeonghan, however, is not one to let things go easily as you've come to learn.

"Oh, going straight home again?" He asks while the four of you pack away your items for the night, his eyebrow raised as he observes you over the wooden dividers between your desks. Frankly, they should be higher in your opinion. You enjoyed the sight of the stunning man when you first started but, now his smug face and permanently raised eyebrow grate your nerves in a way that would be impressive if he wasn't so aggravating.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol interjects, shooting you an apologetic look on the other man's behalf. Sometimes, you don't understand how someone as kind as Seungcheol can put up with him but, the two men are practically two peas in a pod. From your peripheral, you can see Chan shuffle uncomfortably in his seat. Not that you blame him. This is why you try to not interact with Jeonghan more than strictly necessary. The tension grows to uncomfortable levels even for you sometimes but, you have always been stubborn, as your best friend, Seungkwan, is fond of reminding you.

"What?" Jeonghan asks Seungcheol in a way that masquerades as innocent, "I'm merely making polite conversation with our colleague. That's all," he finishes, shooting you a look as though he's seriously waiting for you to answer his question when all four of you can likely recite your answer by heart by now.

"Yes, Jeonghan. I'm going home," you grit out, your fingernails digging into the faux leather material of your bag. Your jaw only clenching further when a grin speards across his face. It's all venom and, all three of you seem to brace yourselves for the words that leave his mouth next,

"Oh, of course. I suppose I should expect that from you. You are the more reserved type, after all."

You'll never admit it but, those words echo throughout your head all the way to your apartment. They remain in your mind and play on repeat while you change into your pajamas, order dinner for yourself and settle onto your couch. They continue to haunt you even during your attempt to distract yourself with trash reality television. You know yourself. You have no issues with the person you are. You're not going to let some asshole who hasn't even known you for three months rattle your self-image. You know how to have fun and enjoy yourself. That part of yourself just isn't any of your coworkers' business. Separating work and fun is a philosophy that has saved you from many headaches and much drama over the years. Jeonghan doesn't know shit.

Even with those assertions, it's difficult to forget his words for longer than you care to admit.

Thursday rolls around once more. You can already feel the migraine building behind your eyes when Jeonghan looks at you. Seungcheol and Chan, for their parts, choose to focus on their computers. You know they aren't actually working on any sales. They both have the subtlety of an elephant hiding behind a telephone pole. You do understand their lack of willingness to involve themselves unless Jeonghan pushes too far. Which you don't think will take him all that long.

"So, will you be joining us tonight?" He asks with that knowing smirk you want to wipe off of his face. His face resting in his hand while he waits for you to answer.

"Jeongha-"

"Don't you have work to do, Jeonghan? Is all you think about going out for drinks?" You ask with a faux curious tilt of your head, the saccharine tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by the three men. Seungcheol looks surprised that you not only cut him off from pulling the other man back in line but, that you responded to him at all. You suppose you've finally had enough. Being the bigger person gets exhausting very, very quickly.

Jeonghan looks intrigued by your response. Opting to bite, he says, "I finished my work over an hour ago. Plus, it's almost time to close up for the day anyways. I simply know how to balance work and enjoying myself. Perhaps you should take some notes out of my book," he finishes with a glint in his eyes.

What a fucking dick.

"You know what? Yes, I will be joining everyone for drinks tonight. I think I've earned it after how grating this week has been," you respond and maybe you feel too smug for your own good that surprise colours his face for a moment. However, Jeonghan being Jeonghan, it disappears nearly as quickly as it morphed onto his face.

"Hey, you know you don't have to come. Jeonghan's just being a dick," Chan chimes in, shooting you a reassuring look. Jeonghan pouts dramatically at being referred to as a dick but, he doesn't refute Chan's assertion. Given how he's treated you, he seems to have the self-awareness to know better.

"Yeah, we know not it's not for everyone. Hell, Jihoon maybe comes out like three times a year and, one of those is for his birthday," Seungcheol adds, big, warm, brown eyes looking at you softly. His full lips spreading in a smile that's meant to soothe the tension in the air. You appreciate the two of them. Honestly, they've been far kinder than you than you probably deserve but, this isn't about them right now.

"No, I want to. Don't worry. I'm curious to see what the excitement is about since Jeonghan can never quite stop talking about it," you respond with a miniscule upturn of your own lips. It's not much but, you hope it's enough to ease any concerns the two men have. They exchange a glance with each other while Jeonghan smiles with far too many teeth and his head resting in his hand,

"This'll be interesting."

Anxiety simmers in your bloodstream as you join your hoard of coworkers at Jun's. It's not a massive bar by any means but, you think you understand why it's become the go-to spot rather than anywhere else around your offices as soon as you step through the door. The atmosphere instantly feels welcoming, a stunning, giant of a man who you learn is named Mingyu greeting you all as you flow through the entrance. The booths and tables are quickly filled by the people from your office and, you scan the area looking for a place to sit that isn't outside or close to the bathrooms.

"Come on," Seungcheol says with a gentle nudge to your shoulder, the smile he gives you under the lowlighting of the bar heats your system in a way you think would be unwise to dissect right now, "We usually sit in booth number 8. We kind of have unofficial dibs on it," he says with a chuckle and you see Chan nod in agreement. Jeonghan doesn't say much, much to your surprise, as the four of you settle yourself into your seats.

Chan sits beside you while Seungcheol and Jeonghan opt to sit next to each other and across from the two of you. Shrugging off your coat, you briefly wonder if it would've caused you less of a headache to sit next to Jeonghan instead of looking at him for the entire night but, Chan's presence next to you is more than welcome. Plus, you can just look at Seungcheol instead, which isn't a terrible alternative. Not in the slightest.

"So, what would you guys recommend?" You ask in an attempt to crawl out of the shell you've crafted for yourself. You may have come out tonight mostly to spite your dick of a coworker but, you aren't opposed to having a decent time with your other coworkers. Plus, free alcohol and food are offers you know better than to say no to. Your parents would be disappointed in you otherwise.

"The soju here is really good," Seungcheol pipes up, glancing up at you over his menu. "The beer's great too," Chan says with a smile that disarms you a little seeing it so up close. Heat rushes to your face and you hide your face in your own menu, pretending to scan the items while you use the time to calm yourself down a little. Really? Getting flustered just because you're with your, admittedly, good-looking coworkers outside of work? Good lord. Get a grip.

"I'm going to be honest, I think beer is kinda gross," you say sheepishly and you nearly laugh at the affronted looks on both Seungcheol and Chan's faces. Hell, even Jeonghan cracks a smile that you'd consider a smidge genuine.

"Beer isn't gross," the older man protests with a pout that you're not used to seeing on his handsome face. It suits him. You wonder if you'd see it more if you came out with them. Maybe it makes itself known more outside of the confines of the office.

"Yeah, you've probably just had shitty beer," Chan argues with a nod so assertive you're a little worried he might hit his head hard on the back of the seat in your booth. You giggle at the two men nonetheless. Clearly your coworkers are avid beer drinkers and defenders.

"Or, consider, that beer just sucks," you argue with a smile and you have to bite back a laugh at the sincerely affronted looks the two men send your way, "Soju is okay. It's a little too bitter for my liking but, I don't mind it. But hey, why are you guys drinking soju on a Thursday?"

"Maybe because we're not killjoys and we can handle our alcohol," Jeonghan finally pipes up. You knew it was too good to be true. You knew you couldn't just have a decent night out with this man in your presence. The somewhat pleasant atmosphere that the three of you have managed to create is completely evaporated by Jeonghan's commentary and, you wonder if he's just like this or only like this because you're out with them tonight.

"Anyways," you continue on, choosing not to rise to his bait this time and scanning the various alcoholic beverages that span the menu, "I think I'm going to order a glass of red wine. I'm a bit of a lightweight too so, that should be a safe option," you say with a small smile to directed to the two other men in the booth, "I'll probably also get some fries because drinking alcohol on an empty stomach is no-no I learned the hard way."

"Wait, how'd you learn that lesson?" Chan asks, an amused smirk spreading across his handsome face while he glances at you. Seungcheol looks curious about that particularly story too. You're not sure if they're desperate to avoid you and Jeonghan spitting venom at one another or sincerely curious but, you indulge them nonetheless.

That's how you tell them about one night in your second year of university where you and Seungkwan were short on cash but, wanted a night out. The semester had been kicking your asses and you two thought you'd earned a night of flirting with cute boys and taking shots of tequila. So, pooling the little money you two had, you spent it all on and drinks and nothing else. Being too young and dumb and desperate for a good time to think about having dinner before hitting the clubs. Suffice it to say, you two paid handsomely for your choices.

Seungcheol and Chan remain invested throughout your story. Hiding their laughter in their mugs of beer that were set on your table along with your wine while you regaled them with the tales of your time in university. At times, electing to laugh out loud freely. Both of their laughs triggering giggles of your own. Embers of fondness flickering inside of you watching their faces contort with joy and, drinking in the way Seungcheol's dimples soften his face and the spread of Chan's smile adds to his already magnetic draw. Jeonghan only sneaks in a few jabs. Perhaps the alcohol is mellowing him out a little, his remarks not enough to distract you from the, surprisingly, good time you're having with your other two coworkers.

"Wait, he paid you to chug your beer in under three minutes? And you actually agreed?" You ask with a loud laugh, taking a generous sip of your second glass of wine.

"It was the principle of matter!" Seungcheol argues, his beer sloshing in his mug as he juts his hand out to emphasise his conviction, "A little cash didn't hurt too," he finishes off with a laugh, taking a swing from his glass.

"He did it though, and Soonyoung had to pay up. A lot. It was on him. What kind of idiot bets so much money on someone being able to chug beer?" Chan adds with a snort of his own.

"Soonyoung apparently," Seungcheol responds with a chuckle.

"Hey, a win is a win and, it sounds like you got quite the bit of cash out of it," you say with a small smile, warmth blossoming in your cheeks at the boyish, prideful grin Seungcheol shoots your way, "I don't think I have any uni stories about chugging drinks and making bets, unfortunately."

"Yeah, you don't seem at all like the adventurous type," a voice you'd be thrilled to never hear again chimes in before he smirks that insufferable smirk of his and sips from his own mug of beer. And you've just had it. It's been easy, for the most part, to ignore Jeonghan and focus on your more pleasant and handsome coworkers. However, maybe it's just that you've reached your breaking point or the alcohol flowing through your veins but, your aggravation reaches a fever pitch.

"What is your problem?" You finally turn to the source of your foul turn in mood, "What have I done to offend you so personally that you've been a pain in my ass since I started working with you? Or does my mere presence just bother you that fucking much?"

The entire table goes quiet at your outburst. You do feel a little bad about Chan and Seungcheol having to sit through this. For the nth time. However, the man across from Chan is just so insufferable and seems to enjoy needling a reaction out of you. Well, you hope he's satisfied with the one he ripped from you now.

Jeonghan appears taken aback by your response. His eyes wide and blinking at you while his mouth opens and closes repeatedly. He looks stupid. Good.

"I was just teasing. It was just some light hazing," he finally manages to spit out but, his answer just adds a generous heap of gasoline to those sparks of irritation in the pit of your gut.

"Some light hazing? Really? That's all you have to say for yourself? Being a dick to me for months is just some ha ha funny teasing? We all know you're too old to hide behind such a shitty excuse, Jeonghan," you retort with a smirk that likely looks like the ones he's fond of sending your way. More teeth and venom than anything else. His eyes flash then and perhaps you touched a nerve. Whoops.

"At least I'm not a bore that barely has any social skills," he spits in reply. Really, it's a horribly weak response and you could've easily been the adult here and let it go. Continue pretending he's not here and listening to more of Seungcheol and Chan's stories. You could have done all of that but, you're so tired.

"You think I'm boring huh?" You ask him with a smile that's far too saccharine, it even hurts your own face with the effort it takes from you. Turning to face Chan, you decide to make a choice. Is it incredibly impulsive? Absolutely. Is it incredibly stupid and reckless? Absolutely. Will it be worth it? Potentially.

"Chan, do you think I'm boring?" You ask the man with a bat of your eyelashes and a pout on your lips. Chan doesn't even hesitate before he's tumbling over his words to respond to you, "No-no, not at all!" His earnestness is cute, "Don't listen to Jeonghan. He's just being an asshole. His words don't mean jack shit."

"Thank you, Chan. I appreciate it. Really, I do," you respond with a more genuine uptick of your lips before continuing, "If I asked you to kiss me, would you?"

That causes his eyes to nearly bulge out of their sockets. You don't miss Seungcheol and Jeonghan's noises of surprise either but, you're focused on the younger of the three men at the moment. Typically your nerves would be more on edge but, interestingly, you're calm. Patiently waiting for the blonde to respond to your question while you take another swing from your glass.

"Are you- are you drunk?" Are the words he's finally able to stutter out, fingers tugging on his tie a little in what you can only assume to be nervousness.

"Chan, I know I said I was a lightweight but, two glasses of wine aren't enough to completely knock me out of my senses," you reply with a giggle. You likely wouldn't act this way without the liquid in your veins but it acts as a nudge at best. You'll show Jeonghan who's boring. "You don't have to say yes, of course," you assure him, "but, I think you're cute."

The blush that colours his face only adds to his attractiveness and, to your shock, he nods. You didn't expect him to truly agree to your, frankly, insane suggestion but, he well and truly nodded just now. You shift closer to him and ease your hands onto his handsome face. It's difficult to tell who closes the gap first but, in the grand scheme of things, you don't think it matters all that much. Chan is a good kisser. He might even be great. He presses his lips firmly to your own but, not to the point of being stiff. Any earlier hesitation he had has vanished without a trace. His mouth meeting your own eagerly and with skill that makes you the tiniest bit lightheaded.

You pull away first. You're not sure how far this would've gone and, you don't want to push your luck here. Cracking your eyes open (when did you close them?), you're greeted with a sight that sends your insides into a tizzy and prompts your thighs to rub together. Chan watches you through lidded eyes, his gaze zeroing in on your freshly kissed lips while he chases every bit of you he can on his lips with his tongue. Easing your hands off of his face, you turn to face the two speechless men. Jeonghan looks like you just shattered his entire world view. Seungcheol, however, looks stunned for an entirely different reason. Perhaps you're projecting but, you're certain you see traces of the look the younger man gave you moments ago reflected in Seungcheol's gaze. Your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes drift to your mouth not so subtly.

You can't help the smile that's threatening to split your face in half. Men. Predictable.

"Seungcheol," you drawl in a voice a little foreign to your own ears but, based on the visible shudder you see run over the built man, he doesn't mind the change all that much, "Would you like to kiss me too? Or are you worried I'm just as boring as your colleague over there asserts?" You ask with a faux innocent tilt of your head while you gesture leisurely towards the man beside him who still hasn't said a word.

Much like Chan, Seungcheol looks like he can't quite believe what you're offering. He exchanges a glance with the other blonde at the table and whatever discussion the two of them have helps him come to an answer. The knots in your insides that were beginning to twist themselves just from kissing Chan grow significantly more complex just from the weight of Seungcheol's gaze and the nod he directs your way. This time, more maneuvering is required on your part but, Seungcheol is more than happy to meet you halfway. This time, his hand reaches across to cup your jaw and you find yourself growing the slightest bit stupid just from the way his thumb drags itself along your skin.

"For the record, I've never thought you were boring," he mutters before encompassing you in bliss. Seungcheol's lips, you discover very quickly, are just as soft as they look. It doesn't take him long to take the lead in this liplock. Guiding your head just slightest bit so, it's angled exactly how he wants while every brush of his mouth makes you seriously contempt whether you require oxygen at all. You think you could just live off of him instead.

Much to your dismay, he pulls away first and you painfully understand the disappointment Chan felt earlier when you parted from him. You could kiss the two of them for hours, you think. It's your turn to stare at him in a daze and the self-satisfied smirk he shoots at you does horrible, terrible things to your heart and panties. The two of you part after that without much fanfare. The table is deathly silent for a moment while you stare down Jeonghan who still appears to be coming to grips with what just transpired before his very eyes.

"I suppose you still think I'm a bore who never does anything outside of my comfort zone," you say to him, leaning on your palm and delighting in his inability to respond, maybe a little too much. Seungkwan has always chided you for your affinity for spite. "I hope you don't take offense to my not being interested in kissing you, though."

"Okay, fuck," he finally breaks, dragging an elegant hand over his face in a way that is a far cry from the smug man you've come to know, "I'm sorry. I was being a dick. You didn't deserve any of that. I guess I just felt threatened by you and I was lashing out."

That bewilders you. A lot. Out of all the reasons for you to earn the ire of Jeonghan, you don't expect that to be his explanation. "Threatened by me? Why?" You finally manage to ask, staring at him like you can't quite believe this is all even real. What the fuck is your life right now?

"You're the first person in a very long time who's been real competition for me at work," he chooses to ignore Seungcheol and Chan's interjections and huffs of protest, "I didn't think I was a competitive guy until someone who was actually a challenge came around and, I felt threatened. I'm sorry. I know that probably won't cut it for all the jabs and remarks but, I think I owe you that much at the bare minimum."

"You're not the first insecure man I've had to deal with in this line of work and, you won't be the last," you snort, reacquainting yourself with your glass, "Yeah, you'll have to forgive me if it takes me some time to warm up to you but, I do appreciate this being a start. Who knew kissing our coworkers would be the way to get you to be honest?" You muse behind said glass, smiling at the way all three men blush. You can deal with the ethics of all of this tomorrow.

"I misjudged you," Jeonghan responds with a disbelieving laugh, "I would've never thought you'd do something like this."

"You know what they say about assuming," you retort but, there isn't as much venom in your voice. You suppose you can't be in too foul of a mood after kissing the two men who think they're being subtle with the glances they sneak your way.

After that, much to everyone's relief, the tension between you and Jeonghan dissipates significantly.

Without being on edge awaiting Jeonghan's next jab, you're more relaxed than you have been since you started working with the men. Laughing freely at his own stories of horrible night outs and last minute submissions from university. Smiling behind your glass when he shares especially embarrassing tales featuring Seungcheol and Chan, much to their dismay. The atmosphere is calming. Sneaking your own glances of the two men under the low light and appreciating the way it creates a halo effect on both of them. Not that they needed much aid with their looks as it is.

You don't fail to notice how Chan's thighs brush against yours or the way Seungcheol's foot accidentally bumps yours underneath the table. Seungkwan's voice chooses now to echo through your skull. His nagging about how you don't think things through before acting on your pettiness being a particular hit with every silent touch, nudge and look between the three of you. The ghosts of their lips haunting you and it's only been a few hours. Maybe you're more fucked than you realised, you think when Seungcheol sends you another brief weighted gaze before drinking from his mug and, Chan chooses then to rest his hand precariously close to your leg.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," Jeonghan says after a brief but, not unpleasant lull in conversation, "It's getting late and I have a shit tonne to do tomorrow," he finishes with a sigh for dramatics before sliding out of the booth and grabbing his jacket. You don't know him well enough and it might be a trick of the light but, you swear you see his eyes practically twinkling with an emotion very, very close to amusement as he takes his leave.

"Goodnight, get home safe," you offer in the tentative peace the two of you have built over the evening. He shoots you a smile that almost looks misplaced on his face. This one is much softer than any he's given you before and you think maybe you and Yoon Jeonghan may be begrudging, civil coworkers yet. Seungcheol and Chan provide their own farewells to the man but, otherwise don't make any moves to slip out of the booth along with him. You're not sure what to expect. Part of you assumed they tended to call it a night together but, based on the way they sink into their seats while the other man walks off to hail a cab, your assumptions are misplaced.

The silence in the booth is deafening and the air feels decidedly tense. Not tense in the way that had become a staple of your interactions with Jeonghan. No, this isn't nearly as awkward and uncomfortable. You'd think the same bravado that had prompted you to kiss the two men who you now remain in the booth with would continue to carry you for the night but, without Jeonghan here, you find your face growing warm with the gazes you know are being leveled at you. Electing, instead, to keep your eyes locked onto your empty glass and ignoring Chan's body heat radiating mere centimetres away from you.

"So," Seungcheol is the first one to break the silence. Of course, it would be him. Against your better judgement, you glance up at him out of curiosity and you almost instantly regret that decision. His eyes look glazed with what you suspect to be desire but, perhaps that's projection and the wine on your part. However, it's difficult to shake that suspicion when he just keeps looking at you like that. Full lips parted while his eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips long enough to leave you squirming in your seat and reminding you of the state of your panties, before settling somewhere beneath your neckline. You have eyes. You know Seungcheol is attractive. And knowing, that on some level based on the way he kissed you and the way he is essentially undressing you with his eyes, he thinks you're attractive too is a lot.

"It's been quite the night," Chan pipes up and you honestly don't know if you have the resolve to look at him right now. You can already feel yourself coming apart at the seams being the focal point of Seungcheol's attention, you don't think you can handle adding Chan into the mix. He's already too close and his cologne has steadily drifted into your space enough to further muddle your brain and turn your throat remarkably dry. "I'm glad you and Jeonghan sorted everything out. Well, sort of," he laughs and that does make you feel lighter. You've always thought Chan had the most endearing laugh, "Plus, we got to see a different side of you tonight too."

All of the less carnal thoughts you had briefly are quickly extinguished by the way his mouth curves around the word 'different' and Seungcheol's answering laugh. It's much deeper and drawn out than the cute giggles you've grown accustomed to from him and, your insides burn.

"I didn't think I'd end up with a kiss from my gorgeous coworker but, I can't say I'm complaining," Seungcheol adds and your heart stutters in your chest when 'gorgeous' registers in your foggy brain. Your hands clenching against your thighs, fingernails biting into your skin through your thin stockings.

"Same here," Chan replies and you can hear the grin in his voice clear as day. God. What is this night turning into?

"What's wrong? You haven't said anything since Hannie left. Cat got your tongue?" Seungcheol asks with a tilt of his head and it hits you in this moment why he and the other man got along so well. A glint you've only seen in Jeonghan's eyes shining clear as day in his while one corner of his mouth lifts up, his dimple making an appearance. You're so fucked.

"I'm not- I don't," you huff in frustration when the words you're looking for don't quite find you, "I'm fine. Just a little hot but, I'm good," you finally manage to spit out. Only feeling mildly embarrassed at the effort it took but, all things considered, you're proud of yourself.

"Hot huh?" Chan asks in a way that causes the pit of your stomach to drop. Considerably. That drop continues when he shifts closer to you and leisurely slings are a muscular arm over your shoulder. You hope against hope neither man hears the soft gasp that leaves your mouth at the contact. Your grip on your thighs growing harsher when you comprehend his broad body pressed into your side. It takes all of your strength not to rub your thighs together when his scent hits you more viciously this time.

"Would you like our help cooling off?"

That forces you to look at Chan. Mouth parting while all you can think to do is stare at him before turning towards Seungcheol who doesn't contest Chan's usage of 'our.' His eyes darker than they were minutes ago while he waits for your response. From the way Chan's fingers absentmindedly trace patterns you can't discern onto your shoulders, he's waiting for a response too. Surely they can't be suggesting what you think they're suggesting. Definitely not. There's no way. This is just a wine, touch starved induced daydream. That's all.

"Well?" Seungcheol prompts you with a raise of his stupidly attractive eyebrow. Is everything about this man just hot?

"Well what?" You attempt to spit back but, any stability in your voice is severely undercut by how breathless you sound. Fuck.

"Do you want our help cooling off?" Chan asks once again and there's no mistaking what he means by the way he's pressed against you and the dip in his voice. His words drifting into your ears like something akin to music. You can't believe you're getting flustered by the same guy who accidentally stapled his tie to his paperwork. Twice. In the same day.

But really, what do you have to lose? Ethics pretty much took a nosedive off of a steep cliff when you asked to kiss the two of them and they agreed. It's clear they want you as much as you want them. So much for promising yourself to never, ever sleep with a coworker. Here you are contemplating letting two of them fuck you. Your younger self would be aghast. However, you're here now. And you can already feel how sticky and uncomfortable your panties are with every second that ticks by. What's the worst that could happen?

You nod. Biting your lip in the process and trying your best not to dissolve into a puddle in Chan's arms while you wait for them to respond or react or just do anything.

"You'll have to use your words, sweetheart," Seungcheol drawls and the tinge of command in his voice makes your stomach perform an entire gymnastics routine. "Yeah, we can't know what you want unless you tell us, baby," all of these petnames are going to make you lose your mind. Especially coming from both of them.

"I-I want you both to help me," you finally say. You're sure Chan can feel the heat radiating off of your face in waves but, you just hope that that confession is enough for them.

"Well, we shouldn't keep you waiting then," Seungcheol says with a grin that borders on wolfish. Yeah, you can definitely understand why he and Jeonghan are such close friends. It all makes sense now.

"There are a few hotels we can choose from down the street," Chan comments, the brush of his blonde hair against your skin sends a shudder down your spine. It really has far too long since you've been touched properly if his hair brushing against your skin is enough to cause you to react so strongly.

"I'm down if the two of you are," you muster, using every last bit of your nerve to glance at both of them to emphasise your seriousness. They both look like the way to eat you alive and, yeah, having both Choi Seungcheol and Lee Chan's gazes on you at the same time is incredibly overwhelming to put it mildly.

"Fuck, let's get out of here," Seungcheol practically groans, grabbing his jacket before shimming out of the booth at break neck speed. Your body moves before your brain can catch up. Sliding out onto very unsteady feet, coming into contact with Seungcheol's incredibly solid frame while he steadies you. You choose to ignore the knowing grin that spreads across his face while Chan grabs both of your respective possessions and joins the two of you.

"Shall we?" The younger man asks as if the three of you are getting ready to grab coffee with each other and not book a night in one of those inconspicuous hotels.

"We shall," Seungcheol responds and you truly cannot believe how cheesy they are. You're not sure what it says about you that these are the two men who caused you to make a mess in your panties and wobble on your feet. Thankfully, they choose not to drag things out after that exchange. The few coworkers who haven't taken Jeonghan's lead and headed home too wave you all off when you pass their tables. Oh. If only they knew.

It all feels real now. It's one thing to impulsively kiss your coworkers and flirt over drinks. It's a whole other matter to walk out of the bar and walk down the street to a hotel that blends in seamlessly to all of the other businesses. You're too busy being sandwiched between the two muscular men to catch the name. Not that it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things.

"Hello, could we please book a room for the night? We're not particular on what kind," Seungcheol asks the receptionist. Your face warms when they scan the three of you and raise their eyebrow marginally before typing away at their computer. Chan rubs your side and gives you another one of his blinding smiles while Seungcheol handles the details of whatever room the three of you are going to tumble into. Fortunately, they don't take long to wish the three of you a good night and hand over a room key. You all chorus your thanks in return before making a b-line for the elevator.

Chan is on you as soon as the doors shut. A surprised gasp from you echoes loudly in the tiny box when he nudges you against the cool wall. His lips pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw while his hands grasp your hips. Groping and fondling every part of you he can while Seungcheol watches the two of you in a mixture of amusement and desire. Your walls clench when your eyes meet over Chan's shoulder and he sends you a lopsided smile that shoots straight to your clit.

Much to your disappointment, the doors open in what feels like seconds later and Chan separates from you with such ease that it gives you whiplash. You're sure you already look like a wreck and here he is walking out as though he wasn't peppering your throat with kisses while his erection rested against your thigh. Seungcheol has the audacity to laugh at the pout on your lips but, he pulls you out of the elevator with ease. It doesn't take much scanning before the three of you stumble into room 259. It's a pretty luxurious suite. You're a little worried about just how much Seungcheol swiped away nonchalantly when paying for this room but, the two men are on you as soon as the door shuts behind them and before you can think about the cost of tonight further.

This time, it's Seungcheol's lips that descend upon you. Unlike the younger man, he opts to take his time. Kissing you as though he has all of the time in the world. His large hands reaching up to cup your face and drag his thumbs along your cheeks. Chan does not share the older man's affinity for patience. You throb harshly when you feel his cock pressing against your ass. Gasping into Seungcheol's mouth with every grind and kiss he sears into your neck. His hold on your hips is unrelenting. Keeping you in place while he finds relief in your body and the two men push you towards insanity. It doesn't help that you can feel the beginnings of Seungcheol's hardening cock prod your stomach too.

Before you're aware of what's happening, both men push you towards the monstrous large bed. Seungcheol laughs when a whine is ripped from your throat when you separate from the two of them, "We're going to take care of you, baby," he soothes while he kicks off his shoes and makes himself comfortable on the bed, "Don't worry."

"Yeah," Chan chimes in after some time, the throaty quality of his voice turns the storm of butterflies in your stomach into a hurricane, "Just need to get you in place first. Want to taste you," he mutters while he watches Seungcheol tug you towards him with heavy eyes. Situating you between his thick thighs while his lips occupy Chan's previous position and his hands drag along your body. Between every brush of his large hands and the outline of his cock resting against your lower back, it's all so much. However, then your brain is finally hit by Chan's words.

"Taste me?" You whisper, watching the younger man when he opts to position himself between your thighs. Your heart rising to your throat and close to bursting while his hands leisurely stroke your legs. Even through your stockings, his touch only adds to the sticky mess at the apex of your thighs. "Mhm," Chan hums in affirmation, carefully taking off your work heels and kissing along your left leg while his hand shoves up your skirt, "Been thinking about this for weeks," he mutters, meeting your eyes as his kisses reach higher and higher.

"When you wear these tight skirts that cling to your ass and shirts that hug your tits, how could we not?" Seungcheol mummers in agreement with Chan directly into your neck and a shiver runs from the top of your spine straight to your pulsing, neglected clit. His fingers shift to unbutton your blouse, more and more of your cleavage spilling out with every steady movement. Your brain is reeling from their confessions and every touch they imprint onto your body. Whimpers all you can think to respond with when Chan reaches your inner thighs and Seungcheol impatiently tugs your shirt off of your shoulders.

"Tempting us for months now," Seungcheol continues with a teasing edge to his voice into your shoulder while his hands knead your breasts over your bra. Chan hums in agreement against your thigh. Tugging your skirt further up your waist and, you throb when his lidded gaze finds yours between your thighs. "And that little show you put on for Jeonghan," Seungcheol chuckles while his fingers drift from your breasts to fiddle with your clasps. Between your breasts finally being free and Seungcheol wasting no time in cupping them in his large hands and, Chan pressing his face directly onto your covered slit and groaning, you can already feel yourself growing overwhelmed.

"Well, maybe it wasn't just a show," Seungcheol says between kisses to your neck that prompts goosebumps to rise with every brush of his lips, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your hardened nipples that force mewls from your throat. You'd shut your thighs if Chan wasn't firmly slotted between them, honestly.

You're brought out of your haze when a ripping sound hits your ears and cool air hits your drenched panties. A startled gasp leaved your lips when you look down to see that Chan ripped your fucking stockings. You're not sure if you're more annoyed or aroused right now.

"Chan," you hiss, though you doubt you sound angry enough since Seungcheol's fingers are still toying with your nipples and his strong hands eagerly knead as much of your breasts as he can fit in his palms. He even has the nerve to laugh against your shoulder. The fucking audacity.

"I'm sorry," he certainly doesn't sound all that sorry, "I just got impatient. I'll buy you a new pair. Hell, I'll buy you as many pairs as you want," Chan says, his eyes solely focused on your now exposed, wet panties. Before you can think of a retort, he moves them out of the way and wastes no time in lapping at your soaked slit.

If Seungcheol didn't have you firmly pressed to his broad chest, you think you may have crumpled on the spot.

Chan is a passionate man. It bleeds into his work and, he's one the hardest working people you've ever met. Apparently, those characteristics are not only part of his work persona. He doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. Moaning into your pussy while his hand presses against your thigh to make sure you remain spread for him. Keens ripping from your body when he attaches his lips to your swollen clit, alternating between licks and sucks. Experimenting to see what prompts the best reactions from you. Watching you under his lashes when he licks particularly hard and your hips jolt into his mouth.

"Is Chan making you feel good, baby?" Seungcheol whispers into your ear, a whimper leaving you when he bites down on your lobe and his fingers tug a little harder on your nipples.

"Ye-Yes," you moan, one of your hands weaving into Chan's blonde locks, not sure if you want to shove him closer or push him away. Fortunately, his hold and mouth make the choice for you. His tongue dragging patterns your hazy mind couldn't hope to discern while one of his hands joins him. A quiver running over your entire body when two of his fingers tease your entrance.

"Both of y-you. Both of you are making me feel so goo-good," you manage to hiccup.

"Fuck," Seungcheol grunts, one of his hands reaching up to cup your jaw. Thick fingers pressing into your cheeks fiercely while he angled your face towards him, slamming his mouth against yours and greedily drinking in every sound of pleasure you let out. The kiss is messy and poorly coordinated. It's more tongue and spit and desperation than anything else and you love it.

Chan chooses then to stop toying with you. Gingerly pushing two of his fingers into you, you're more than wet enough to take it but, you still shift marginally to adjust to the stretch they provide. Your tugs on his hair grow more incessant and you barely have the presence of mind to kiss Seungcheol back. You feel no better than a baser creature right now. The obscene sounds of just how wet you are for both of them bouncing off the walls with every careful movement of Chan's fingers. A far cry from the way his mouth is determined to devour you whole.

"You taste so good," Chan groans against you briefly before diving back in, curling his fingers faster than before and allowing them to push further into your tight heat. A wanton, broken moan leaves your bruised lips when you and Seungcheol finally separate for air when Chan finds the most sensitive part of your walls. You would roll your eyes at the smirk he presses against you if you could. Really, you would. However, you can already feel your thighs starting to shake and more of your wetness gushing down his palm with every brutal curl of his fingers and lick of your clit.

"Are you getting close, sweetheart?" Seungcheol's question forces your eyes open (when had you even shut them?) and the heat in his eyes makes your walls clamp down on Chan's fingers.

"Uh huh," you whimper, using all of your strength to keep your eyes open to look at the older man while he rubs soothing circles into your cheek and his other hand gropes one of your breasts. "'M so close, Cheol. Wanna cum so bad. Channie's mouth and fingers feel so good. Please," you doubt you're making much sense at this point but, it can't be helped when you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your gut growing tighter and tighter. Your words motivate the younger man further. His fingers happily exploit the weakness he found along your walls and he sucks on your clit vigorously.

"Well, then cum for us, baby. Want you to make a mess for us. On Channie's face and fingers."

Well, that does you in.

You're once again thankful that Seungcheol is bracing you against him because you would have dissolved into a puddle the moment your orgasm barreled into you. He kisses you through it. It's not as fierce as his earlier kisses but, you appreciate it nonetheless while you moan and whimper into him. Chan keeps going through it all. Licking along your slit to lap up as much of you as he can while his fingers continue to work inside of your spasming walls. Not giving you the slightest chance to shut your thighs and making you take every, single sensation while you try your best to ride out one of the most intense orgasms of your fucking life.

"Ch-Channie," you whimper, pulling away from Seungcheol and tugging on the younger man's hair in an attempt to separate him from your poor, throbbing pussy, "Too much," you heave, shaking in Seungcheol's arms. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull when he gives you a few more kisses before unlatching himself from you. He eases his fingers out of you slowly and it feels like a fucking lifetime before you're painfully empty once again.

You're panting and heavily slumped against Seungcheol who happily lets you rest against him. Chan rests against the backs of his legs once he comes up for air too, his chest heaving just as heavily as yours. His face is flushed and the bottom half of it is drenched in spit and your juices. His tongue peaking out to chase as much of your wetness as it can reach, his eyes glazed with desire. God, you don't think you'll ever forget the sight of him like this.

"You should taste her," are the first words he speaks, the scratchiness in his voice shooting straight to your near overstimulated clit, "She tastes fucking heavenly. Honestly could've kept my mouth on her all night," he borderline moans to the older man over your shoulder.

"Based on the way you were humping the mattress and nearly came in your pants, I bet she does," Seungcheol laughs from the depths of his chest, his body vibrates with it. Chan scowls at the older man, "I didn't nearly cum in my pants. It's not my fault she tastes good and I got fucking hard," he pouts and, god, him pouting while his mouth is still covered with you should not be so hot.

"Here, taste for yourself," Chan retorts, lifting the hand that is still covered in you towards the older man. That catches you off-guard. If Seungcheol wasn't behind you, you'd be staring at the man unblinkingly to see how he responds. How he reacts. However, you can't see him or what expression he's making at Chan's offer.

"Fine," and like that you hear the sound of him lapping at the younger man's fingers with the same enthusiasm Chan had when he was between your thighs.

These two want you to fucking die.

"See?" Chan asks with a smug smirk spreading across his face, pulling his fingers back. The knowledge that they're now wet with Seungcheol's spit significantly worsens the ache between your thighs.

"You're right," Seungcheol grumbles from behind you, strong hands moving to run along your sides, "I need to get a taste for myself later," he muses, grasping at your hips and squeezing them hard.

The thought of his mouth on you causes you to whimper. And, unfortunately for you, both men hear you based on the heavy looks you can feel on you right now.

"Greedy," Seungcheol laughs behind you and you ignore the heated rush that courses through your veins, "Wonder how long you've imagined having both of us like this," Chan muses, watching you through his bangs and god, you don't understand how he manages to look so fucking hot. Maybe Seungcheol is right. Maybe you are just insatiable for both of them. Your lust is a bottomless pit.

"Since the first week I started working with the two of you," you breathe and your noise of surprise is muffled by Chan. Your eyes widen and your brain takes a second too long to kiss him back but, you eventually do nonetheless. Melting into him when the taste of your cum hits your tastebuds. Desperate hands clutching at his previously pristine work shirt while he licks into your mouth.

"You should've told us. We could've had you like this for weeks," Seungcheol whispers into your ear, shallowly rutting himself against your ass while Chan continues to messily make out with you.

"Fuck," you moan into the younger man's mouth at Seungcheol's words, the throbbing starting to teeter on painful once again, "Please. Fuck me, please. I want both of you. I'm so empty, it hurts," you whimper, touching and attempting to grasp at both of them simultaneously. Anything to relieve the endless desperation you're drowning in.

"Poor baby," Chan coos once he's pulled away from you, his eyes watching the way his thumb drags along your bottom lip before looking at Seungcheol once again. Whatever exchange they have this time doesn't take long before Chan's eyes are on you once again, "Be a good girl and bend over, sweetheart. We'll take care of you."

It's all a scramble of limbs and hurried movements from there. You miss the warmth and safety of being caged by Seungcheol but, the promise of being filled motivates you more. The sounds of clothes rustling catches your attention and your breath stops in your lungs as you watch Chan hurriedly shrug his shirt off to reveal years worth of hard earned muscle. Saliva pooling in your mouth when he unbuckles his belt and kicks off his boxers and dress pants, his cock slapping against his stomach and making you clamp down hard.

"Like what you see?" He asks and this time you do roll your eyes at him, "Shut up," you respond and Seungcheol laughs from his position against the headboard.

"Quite the mouth you've got there, sweetheart," Chan says as he comes up behind you, his hands grasping your stockings and hurriedly pulling them and your ruined panties off of you. Leaving you completely nude and exposed to both men. "Let's see if you'll still be mouthing off to me in a bit," he says, kneading your ass. His blunt fingernails biting into your skin and sending lightning from the top of your spine to the very base.

A strangled gasp bounces off the walls when he rubs himself against your ass, groaning at the friction and watching you grow wetter and wetter with each grind of his cock against you.

"Chan, please," you whine, pressing back into him in search of any kind of relief.

You expect him to give you a tougher time. Tease you. Toy with you until frustrated tears brim your eyes but, fortunately, he seems just as pent up as you are.

"I've got you, baby," he practically moans, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock. Ensuring he's sufficiently coated in your wetness before he carefully starts to push into you. Your combined sounds of pleasure quickly fill the entire room, your eyes fluttering shut with every centimetre he sinks into you. You're so wet. Wet enough that it's smeared your thighs but, the stretch is still overwhelming. Your fingers clawing at the sheets and your mouth hanging open as your walls try to accommodate Chan's girthy cock.

"You're doing so well, pretty girl," Seungcheol soothes you, reaching for you and cupping your heated face. You'd honestly forgotten about him for a moment. However, his touch and words are more than welcome. They help you relax as much as you can until Chan bottoms out. Cracking your eyes open, you moan at the sight of the older man watching you with a mixture of softness and desire. Your eyes dropping to map as much of his skin with them as you can. You don't know when he removed his shirt but, you weren't complaining in the slightest.

Your walls clench and unclench around Chan's cock sporadically, trying to grow accustomed to the thick intrusion while Chan's hands continue to knead your ass and Seungcheol helps you relax as much as you can.

"Ch-Chan. You can m-move," you finally whimper out when the discomfort subsides substantially. He hums in affirmation before slowly pulling out of you halfway and thrusting back in just as slowly. It's still a fucking lot and, you can already feel the strength to hold yourself up leaving you. A broken moan leaving your bruised lips and Seungcheol chooses then to kiss you. One of his hands drifting to your hair and tugging on it lightly while Chan continues to shallowly work you open. His cock deliciously dragging along your slick walls while he moans softly behind you.

"Is Chan's cock making you feel good?" Seungcheol asks teasingly, his eyes glinting when you shut your eyes as Chan gives you an especially deep stroke, his hands spreading your ass so he can watch the way you cling to him and coat his cock. Your brain is quickly turning to liquid in your skull as his pace picks up a bit. Not too much but, enough for the sounds of his balls hitting you to become more audible.

"I asked you something, baby," Seungcheol says, the darker edge to his voice unconsciously making you tighten around Chan who groans louder than he previously had, his hips snapping into you hard enough to push you towards Seungcheol.

"Ye-Yes, Cheol. Ch-Channie's dick is making me feel s-so go-good," you finally stutter out. You have an inkling the other man knows what he's doing because it doesn't take much after that for Chan to fuck into you with very little hesitance. Thick fingers moving to hold onto your hips and keeping you firmly in place so you couldn't squirm away from him. That finally evaporates any strength you had left. Seungcheol happily lets you rest against his thigh and his cock, straining against his boxers, joins your line of sight.

"Che-Cheol," you whimper, trying to collect all of your brain cells that aren't currently mush right now. Reaching for his cock and needily palming him over his boxers, prompting a grunt from the man from the very back of his throat.

"God, you're so fucking cock hungry," he grits out, his hips pressing into your hand to help alleviate some of the pressure. "Chan's already fucking you and here you are trying to get my dick out," he groans, looking down at you through his damp hair.

"I think she likes when you talk to her like that," Chan laughs breathlessly behind you, leaning down to press a kiss against your back while he continues to fuck into your warm, wet walls, "Our little cockslut."

The word makes you whine into Seungcheol's thigh. Much like Chan, he seems to be a little too fond of being a bit mean to you too based on the way he chuckles. "Don't be shy," he coos, reaching down to cup your face and make you look at him. You're sure you look like a fucking wreck right now. "If you want to suck me off, you could've just asked, baby," he says, his fingers brushing along your bottom lip and following the movements religiously. A quiet curse that falls from his plump lips as he watches you. That's more than enough motivation for him to pull his hands away from you and tug off his boxers. Tossing them to join the mess you've all made on the hotel room floor.

Seungcheol is big. No, big is putting it mildly. Seungcheol is fucking massive. The sound his cock makes when it hits his thigh is enough to intimidate you further. Not that it required much since the sheer size of him was enough to prompt your eyes to widen, mouth to salivate and pussy clench viciously around Chan.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he says once you've ogled him sufficiently, his eyes shining with concern and his hand toying with your hair.

"No, I want to. I want you in my mouth, Cheol."

His cock jumps at your words and you think his reaction is going to supply you with enough confidence to last at least a lifetime. "Fuck, okay. I'll go slow," he groans, wrapping his hand around his cock and you didn't think it could look any more appealing until now. True to his word, Seungcheol does very, very slowly push into your mouth. He tastes a little salty but not unpleasant. It does take awhile for you to adjust to his size and you can already feel the ache developing in your jaw. However, it's worth it. It's so worth it the way Seungcheol groans when he's halfway in your mouth. It's worth it when his fingers weave themselves in your hair and tugging on it gently while he shallowly fucks your mouth.

Between the way Chan molds you around his cock and the way you drool around Seungcheol's, you aren't really capable of much else than letting the two of them find pleasure in your body and taking the pleasure they give you. Your body jolts when the fat head of Seungcheol's cock hits the back of your throat.

"Shit, 'm sorry, baby. Are you okay?" He asks, his warm, brown eyes looking down at you with concern. You try your best to nod with him still in your mouth. Conveying to him that it's okay and he once again thrusts into your mouth. This time around you're better prepared to handle the brush of his cock on the back of your throat. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight. You love being our little toy to use huh?" Chan moans, his hand snaking between your slick thighs to rub heavy-handed circles into your clit. Your pitchy moans are muffled by Seungcheol's cock, spit dribbling down your chin while your body shudders as Chan drags you onto his cock and pushes you closer and closer to another orgasm.

"You're taking my cock so well, sweetheart," Seungcheol praises, his pace picking up slightly until the sounds of you choking on him join the litany of noises that fill your hotel room. You can already tell that your throat will be raw tomorrow but, you don't care. You can't when he looks so stunning fucking your mouth and copious amounts of his pre-cum join the mess slipping past your lips.

"Fuck," Chan grits behind you, his thrusts quickly shifting from precise and brutal to sloppy and bordering on uncoordinated. Based on the way his cock twitches inside of you, you wager that he's close. You're proven right not long after that when he chokes out your name before pressing his hips flush against your ass, his cock throbbing as rope after rope of his cum floods your eager and awaiting walls. Between the warmth that floods your pussy and his continued rubbing your clit, you tumble over the proverbial edge soon after him. All your whimpers and mewls turn to vibrations around Seungcheol's cock, overstimulated tears streaking down your face as your body spasms along with Chan's.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you should see yourself," Seungcheol grits out, easing his cock out of your mouth while you try to gather your bearings as Chan holds onto you to steady himself. Your walls still spasm around his softening cocl through the aftershocks and that just prompts him to dig his fingers into you and, moan quietly.

"Are you two okay?" Seungcheol asks with equal parts concern and amusement, eyeing your respective fucked out states.

"Yeah, just needed a moment," Chan responds first, gently pulling out of you. You can't help but, cringe at the feeling and the sudden emptiness. Your body finally collapsing onto the sheets since Chan isn't holding you up any longer. Your thighs feel little better than jelly at the moment and your breathing is still laboured.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you reply once you start to come back to yourself, blinking up at Seungcheol who shoots you a gentle smile and strokes your hair. You notice that he's very much still hard and part of you wonders why he didn't just cum in your mouth. You'd be more than happy to let him.

"You haven't cum yet," you say, glancing at his wet, very hard cock before looking at his face.

He laughs and Chan snorts behind you, "I didn't want it to be too much for you. Don't worry. If you're tired, I can just take care of myself and we can call it a night."

You can't help but pout and reach for him, wrapping a hand around him and delighting in the hiss that leaves his lips, "I'm not tired and I want you to cum too, Cheol. Do you want to use my mouth or cum inside too?"

You probably shouldn't find the way his jaw clenches so attractive yet here you are.

"Told you she was a cockslut," Chan pipes in and you shoot him an annoyed look over your shoulder briefly. You doubt you look all that mad at him since you take a moment to appreciate the way his blonde locks stick to his damp forehead and a thin sheen of sweat makes him look even more mouthwatering, "Shut up, Chan," you retort before turning back to the other man and waiting for his answer.

"You're trying to kill me," Seungcheol jokes, sounding short of breath, "Can you roll onto your back for me, baby?"

You comply so fast that you're surprised you don't give yourself whiplash. Chan grins at you before moving out of the way without much fanfare. Taking Seungcheol's previous position against the headboard and being content to spectate this time around.

It's one thing to see Seungcheol while Chan was rearranging your spine but, the vision he makes between your thighs will be the stuff of your fantasies for years to come after tonight. He's longer than Chan. You can tell as much just from looking at him and feeling the younger man inside you. It's going to be an adjustment but, you're more than ready to take him.

"Are you ready?" He asks, glancing at you through his bangs while he grinds against your wet slit. Sneaking a few peaks to watch the way you cover him in your wetness. You would giggle at his complete lack of subtlety if you weren't itching to feel him.

"Seungcheol, yes," you whine, grinding back against him so he knows you're more than certain about this.

"Never hurts to make sure," he tuts but, grabs himself in his hand nonetheless. Guiding himself to your wet entrance and very gradually sinking into you. Your mouth hangs open as a gasp leaves your lips at the sensation. Fortunately, the stretch isn't too overwhelming. Chan certainly made sure of that. However, Seungcheol is still big and it takes you a while to grow accustomed to the way he pushes into you.

"Chan was right," he groans, watching your face and body for any signs of this all being too much, "You're so fucking tight and wet, baby."

All you can do is moan in response. Pitchy whimpers being punched from your chest when he's finally fully sheathed inside of you. Your eyes drift from drinking in the way his face contorts beautifully to glancing down to watch him split you open and tightening around him at the sight.

"Taking me so well," he mutters, leaning down to press a frenzied kiss to your lips before he starts moving. Your hands find themselves on his broad back, your fingernails digging into it with every deep stroke he gives you. He eagerly swallows your gasping moans when he shoves your legs back, using his strength to keep them pressed to your chest and cursing against your bruised lips when he sinks impossibly deeper into you.

"I'm going to be honest," he pants against your mouth as he fucks into you, his cock dragging against your walls, a combination of your wetness and Chan's cum beginning to leak out of you and dribble down your ass with every jolting thrust he gives you. "I don't think I'm going to last that long," he pants, nuzzling your neck and lavishing your throat with licks, nips and kisses.

"'Is okay," you squeak when he brushes against the sensitive patch against your walls, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your skull. "Want you to cum. Want you to cum inside, Cheol," you whimper, clutching him as close to you as humanly possible. Not caring in the slightest at the sweat you can feel dripping onto your skin.

"Fuck, baby. Don't say that," he moans against your skin between kisses, his hands gripping your thighs for dear life while he continues to chase his release. God, he's so fucking deep you're certain you can feel him in the pit of your stomach where that all too familiar knot begins to tighten once more. The obscene squelching of your pussy combined with his breathy curses seared into your skin only fueling the simmer building in your gut. You're not sure if you can cum again right now but, based on the way his cock bullies your pussy, you're not sure how much of a say you have in the matter.

Seungcheol, unlike Chan, catches you off-guard when he falls apart. His strangled warning of 'cumming' is the only signal you receive before he gives you one brutal thrust and completely remains inside of you to cum as deeply as he possibly can. You wouldn't be surprised if you found bruises on your thighs tomorrow from the way his thick fingers clutch at them while he rides out his climax, his cock pulsing nonstop inside of you. It's like he cums endlessly and you kiss the side of his head as he shudders on top of you, his breaths fanning over your heated skin.

Seungcheol barely has enough strength left but he uses it to pull out of you (you don't think the feeling will ever stop being unpleasant) and rolls onto his back to catch his breath. You don't blame him. You're about five seconds from passing out and you can already feel the mess of combined cum smearing your thighs. You are genuinely a little worried about how you're going to get your legs to cooperate with you.

"Nope, no passing out," Chan says, leaning over you. He's so handsome. Even when he's annoying you and you want nothing more than to shove him aside and crawl under the covers. "We have to get you all cleaned up first," he tuts, booping you on the nose. It's difficult for you to reconcile this man with the one that made you almost cry from pleasure not too long ago.

"I'm tired," you whine, flicking him lightly on the forehead and smiling at the splutter you receive in response, "Plus, my legs feel like jello. I don't know if I could get up if I wanted to."

"We'll help you. It's our responsibility after all," Seungcheol mutters, looking as tired as you feel but sending you a reassuring smile all the same.

You're barely awake as the two men help you to the bathroom. Helping you clean up while doing the same for themselves until the three of you are no longer a sweaty, gross mess. You don't remember much before you find yourself wrapped up in the soft hotel covers, snuggling into one of them. You're not sure who and, you honestly don't care beyond whoever it is incredibly warm and solid beneath your touch. Sleep finds you within minutes after that.

Your groan when the (unfortunately) familiar sound of your alarm violently drags you out of the land of the unconscious. You blindly reach for it but, come into contact with something muscular and hot instead. That wakes you up. Blinking your eyes open, you're met with someone's back instead and that's when the events of last night come slamming into you.

Oh god. So that really happened. You really had sex with your two coworkers. That wasn't just some surreal dream.

"Whoever's alarm that is, shut it off," a tired, scratchy voice grumbles behind you. Using the arm he'd slung around your waist to tug you closer to his broad chest. Seungcheol.

"I need you to let go of me first," you respond sheepishly, the rough quality of your voice surprising you but, then you remember the way the man behind you used your mouth last night and you suppose this is to be expected.

He only grumbles minimally before eventually letting you go. You're sore. Unsurprisingly. However, you do try your best to crawl to the foot of the bed until you find your purse, thankfully, within reach. You hit the dismiss button quickly before crawling back to your spot. You have no clue how Chan can sleep through that. The man must be a fucking rock.

"We need to get ready for work," you whisper to Seungcheol with a frown, resting your arm across your forehead and sighing.

"Or," you nearly jump out of your skin when the younger man turns to face the two of you with a grin on his face, "We could just call in sick," he offers with a shrug. Typically you'd protest the idea more but, you're so exhausted and you highly doubt you'd be able to get up on your legs right now even if you gave it your all.

"I second that," you respond, glancing at the older blonde to see his reaction. He looks pensive for a moment before replying,

"Well, it's settled then."

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thelightsandtheroses · 7 months

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Three: I found it hard to find someone like you

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Chapter Summary: You have an unexpected encounter with Ellie before meeting Joel off bench at the Tipsy Bison. Word Count – 4.4k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog minors DNI, no specific warnings for this chapter, please see the series list for the full list of warnings though. Reader has a backstory and while her age is not truly specified (in my opinion) an age range is somewhat implied (likely late 30s) and she’s a parent of a teenager.. Notes: Thank you so much for the kind feedback and comments so far - they have meant a huge amount to me. The chapter title is from Streets by Doja Cat.

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“I think I’ve made a mistake,” you say as you dramatically careen towards the kitchen gardens. At this time of day, there’s usually no one else there yet but Sean, so this is your best opportunity to speak to him.

Sean looks up immediately, the alarm clear on his face.

“A mistake?” he asks nervously and you can almost see him mentally running through a list of what could have happened.

“A small one,” you clarify, “I hope.” His face relaxes immediately and he turns his attention back to the seedlings he is tending for a second.

Sean found his place in Jackson easily. It turns out he has a green thumb and even since he started helping in the gardens and greenhouses, the yield on crops has significantly increased, as has the variety of food grown. He barely goes on patrol these days unless he has to. He spends his time instead tending to each crop. He’s always asking if you have more books in the library on agriculture, gardening or cultivating food.

He’s found real purpose in his life here, as has Beau on the patrol team.

It must be peaceful for them both.

“So, what have you done then?” he teases.

“Why do I have to have done something?” You fold your arms in annoyance.

“You’re the one who said that you made a mistake.”

“I said that I think I’ve made a mistake. Think!”

“Sorry, sweetie, you said you thought you made a mistake.”

You smirk at his correction. “I may have - so you know that I go for a wander sometimes when I can’t sleep?” It’s a polite acknowledgement of your chronic insomnia; your attempt to make it palatable.

“Yes?”

“And -”

“I knew you had a hook-up!” he cries triumphantly. “I fucking knew it. Go you!”

“I do not have a hook-up … exactly.”

“What are you talking about then?” Sean asks.

“I’m not the only insomniac in Jackson.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“And recently, I’ve been talking to someone else around that time. You see, they also can’t sleep and then-“

“I’m sorry, are you telling me you’ve basically running an underground insomniac anonymous in Jackson?”

“It’s not like that.” It’s really not that formal, you think, it’s also technically above ground.

“And they said you weren’t a joiner, I’m so proud of you,” Sean teases.

“Whatever. So, I think we’re friends now. Well, as much as you can be in those circumstances. He asked me for a drink today.”

“He asked for you a drink?”

“And I said yes?”

“And now you’re panicking,” he observes gently.

“This thing works at night. It works in limited circumstances and what if I ruin it by going along with this?” You sink down to sit on the edge of a planter and place your hands on your lap nervously.

“Do you like him?” Sean asks softly, curiosity in his voice.

“I think so,” you admit. It’s the first time you’ve vocalised your feelings for Joel. The first time you’ve conceded that perhaps you feel something more for him than you originally anticipated.

You think of Joel. You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the dry humour that occasionally surfaces, and the genuine kindness that permeates so much of what he says. It’s the way that despite everyone’s assumptions about Joel Miller, when you are with him you cannot help but feel a little safe.

As for whether you like him the way Sean’s implying … images flash of Joel over the past few weeks and you can’t deny that you find him attractive, that you think about him more than you should.

It’s never that easy though. What were you thinking saying yes?

Sean pulls himself up and sits next to you on the planter. “You haven’t really dated anyone since we got here. There was that one date and you -”

You nod, stopping Sean in his tracks. You remember that too well; how it had all started so well and then it had changed. The wrong words, innocently said, of course, and you’d ran out the Tipsy Bison and that had been the end of that.

“I know - I’ve just had other things on my mind,” you say, “I mean, the library is really coming together now.”

Sean cocks an eyebrow at that and you choose to ignore it.

“So, who’s the lucky guy then?”

“Well, that’s the other thing.”

Sean says your name, looks over at you with both encouragement and confusion as you watch him try and mentally work out who it is, trying to work out who else could be an insomniac.

“It’s um, Joel Miller. Tommy’s brother,” you add.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You shrug and for a moment Sean is silent.

“Well, he’s definitely kinda hot. He’s got presence.”

“Mmhhmm.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“Nice? Are we five? Yeah, absolutely, he’s been an unexpected surprise, I guess. That’s the thing, Sean. We’ve literally only ever talked though in the middle of night. I … what if it’s different if I go?”

“It’s a drink, babe, not a marriage proposal. Do you want me and Beau to be around? We can be back-up for you.”

“You’re asking me if I want you both watching me like a hawk and putting even more pressure on the situation? I love you both, but no.”

“So, Joel Miller, huh?”

“Sean!”

“I can see it. He’s definitely your type.”

“What - a fellow insomniac?”

“Tall, dark hair, kinda broody. Hints of grumpiness and mystery. I mean, that’s definitely you. He’s got that whole single parent vibe as well. Anyway, Beau seems to think he’s okay. He had patrol with him a couple of weeks ago.”

“And? Did he say anything about Joel to you?”

Beau is a fair judge of character; ever since you and Sean ran into him so many years ago, he’s been a guiding force through this changed world. He’s made a lot of mistakes, you know that, but him and Sean - well, they reminded you of the way love can endure.

You trust Beau though; you trust his judgment and character assessments. They’ve saved you all time and time again.

“Uh, just that he was good on patrol.” Beau had already said that to you before, you’re hoping he expanded on that with Sean though. “He said he was quiet but seemed a good guy. He wanted to contribute, you know, help Jackson and be part of things. That’s a good thing.” Sean pauses and you know he’s holding something back.

“Sean?”

“It’s nothing. It’ s just that Beau said he could - he could recognise some similarities between him and Joel, that’s all.”

Beau has a past. Before he joined your group, you know he survived the only way he knew how. His survival was marked with blood and anger, mistakes and choices that you know he is less certain of now.

“Oh,” you say flatly.

“Beau likes him though,” Sean says brightly.

“That’s good.”

You’ve all done things to survive, things you would rather not talk about. Even you.

Flashes of flames rising through the building, the sound of everything catching alight. An unnecessary distraction it turned out.

The smell of burning, of gasoline invading your senses.

Thick smoke in your throat. Your heart was thumping so loud you were sure he could hear it.

A weapon in your shaking hand.

Choices.

You remember the way your ears were ringing, louder and louder each second to an unholy crescendo.

Sean says your name loudly and you look at him.

“Are you going to meet him then?”

You think of Joel again, bring every detail of him to the forefront of your mind. What do you want to do?

“Yeah, I am,” you say resolutely.

You like it when the library is full. It reminds you of different times; a childhood spent curling up with books and browsing everything at the library. You remember how exciting it was when the library moved to a digital database, when you could search on the chunky PC for any book or author you might like.

You’d spent many happy hours in your local library over the years, which was why when you joined Jackson and Maria asked you what you’d like to be involved with, this was the answer.

Two years ago, there were few books, no DVDs or CDs and a very disorganised system. You’ve built this place up; you might not know the Dewey Decimal System like a real librarian from before, but what you’ve made works. It’s a community space, it’s inviting. There are books. So many books. Tommy even found an old stamp while on patrol and you have fashioned a library card system of sorts.

This is one of the things that keeps you in this town.

A class of teenagers from the school are browsing the shelves . The school doesn’t have a separate library so you pool resources wherever you can, work together as the town tries to give as rounded an education as it can under the circumstances.

You take a sip of tea and occupy yourself with sorting through a pile of returned books.

“So, what’s your deal with Joel?” Ellie asks bluntly, idly scanning through a pile of comic books.

“My deal with Joel?” You ask, confusion growing. Has Ellie followed Joel to the bench? How else would Ellie know you even speak to Joel?

No. No. Surely you would have heard her.

“He looks at you sometimes,” she says, eyes still narrow with suspicion.

“He looks at me?” you ask nervously and her face changes completely.

“Not - fuck - not like a creepy way. Just like he knows who you are and I’ve noticed him staring a couple of times. It’s clear he’s - he knows you more than just as a stranger. It’s not like - otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that fucking stupid.”

“I never said you were and I wouldn’t say that, for the record.”

Ellie shrugs appreciatively.

“So, a few days ago, I might have heard Joel leave the house in the night -” she starts, avoiding your eyes and looking at the battered wood counter.

“You followed him?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was worried?”

You put your hands on your hip and pull a face.

“Fine, then I was curious.”

“And you know that killed the cat.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s an old saying from before.” You shudder, feeling every bit like the transformation into your mother is underway.

“Right.” Ellie sounds sceptical.

“ Regardless, you followed Joel and?”

“I didn’t listen to anything, I just -”

“You saw us talking?”

Ellie nods, shuffling awkwardly on the spot. “So, what’s your fucking deal then?”

“We’re friends,” you say calmly, idly sorting through a pile of books. You notice one on space and hand it to Ellie. “You’ll like this one.”

“Friends?” Ellie takes the book. “Thanks.”

You nod. “If we’re both up at the same time, then sometimes we just hang out and talk. It’s not - there’s nothing you need to worry about, okay. Does Joel know that you know about this?”

“No. You can’t tell him either. He wouldn’t want to know that I know about the whole not sleeping thing.”

“Right.”

Ellie looks so young for a moment. There’s a vulnerability in everything she says, in every detail of how she’s standing. Her fists are dug deep into her hoodie pockets, she’s avoiding your eye contact and biting her lip awkwardly.

You want to reassure Ellie. You can tell she’s worried about Joel.

It makes you wonder what Gabriel knows. Has he ever noticed you leaving in the middle of the night? Do your family worry about you on your insomniac wanders?

“He’s okay though, right?”

“Yeah, Ellie, from how he is with me … he seems fine.”

“Okay, that’s good. So,” Ellie picks up an old Blockbuster DVD and turns into over in her hands. “This is different from the FEDRA library.”

“I hope so.”

“Is it like what libraries were like before?”

“Not completely, but that’s the hope. We get what we can and it was always a hub in communities - more than just books or videos and music, it was a gateway for people.”

“The old library in the QZ never had movies or music.”

“Huh.”

“I like it though.” Ellie smiles broadly. “Thanks for the book.”

“Any time.”

“I - uh, I guess it’s cool that you and Joel are friends. You seem ... okay.”

“Thanks, Ellie.”

The Tipsy Bison is already getting busy. There’s a hum of conversation and noise around you as you walk into the bar. The clink of glasses on tables, hearty laughter and a hub of activity.

You feel nervous walking in, imagining people’s eyes on you, wondering if you’ll be first to arrive. You immediately scan the room and realise that Joel is already there, nursing a glass of alcohol.

When he looks over and sees you, you can’t help smiling and notice the way a smile briefly flashes across his face too. It fills you with relief.

Joel’s picked a table on the edge of the bar, a slightly quieter space, that you immediately make your way towards.

With each step, the anxiety starts to abate and your butterflies settle.

This is Joel.

He’s wearing a clean green plaid flannel shirt, dark jeans and a brown jacket. His hair is neater, not the unruly mess of curls you usually see on the bench. There’s something about the fact he’s made an effort that makes your body heat up slightly, that sends tingles up your spine.

You wonder how long he’s been here; whether he wondered if you would even show up. Whether that mattered to him.

“Hi,” you say as you sit on the chair next to him.

“Hi.”

Part of you wants to acknowledge it’s strange meeting somewhere that isn’t your bench, but you don’t want to make things awkward. Any more awkward.

“What can I get you to drink?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I can -”

”I invited you,” he says firmly, but with a kind smile. “Please.”

You look over at the amber liquid he’s drinking. “Okay, well the same as whatever you’ve got would be great. Thank you.”

“I’ll uh, be right back.”

You take the few minutes of solitude to gather your thoughts. You sweep imaginary dirt off your jeans, wonder what you should talk about, how you should behave. It feels like you’re in high school again. That nervous question of whether you’re even on a date, while being hyper aware of representing yourself as well as possible while still being you.

It’s funny; the world ended twenty years, but still these anxieties permeate your mind, invade your conscious.

Joel returns, placing the glass in front of you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed the two of you together, but then you meet his eyes.

Suddenly you don’t care.

You take a sip of your drink. This is perhaps one of the real selling qualities of Jackson, the quality of alcohol and food. Sure, it’s as safe as a settlement like this can be, but it’s true value lies beyond that. After years of FEDRA approved rations and bathtub brewed booze, Jackson is a breath of fresh air. It’s been two years and you still can’t get used to it.

“Still not got old, huh?” Joel asks.

“Nope.”

“Can’t quite get over it either. Tommy keeps threatening that bacon’s on the horizon too.”

“I’ve heard rumours. It’s like - I never realised how much I missed some of those things.” It’s not just food, it’s the idea that a settlement can be like this. It’s the idea of democracy.

You hadn’t found anywhere like this since before. Every other settlement you’d been involved in …

You don’t want to go there right now.

“I don’t think Ellie’s ever had food like here,” Joel says. “Boston QZ was … a culinary experience.”

“That’s one way to describe FEDRA food. I get it, Gabe was the same when we arrived.”

“How old was he then?”

“Ooof, he would have been about Ellie’s age, maybe? She’s fourteen, right?”

Joel nods. You haven’t broached Gabriel much. He knows you have a son; you’ve never hid this from him. You’ve been pleasantly surprised that he hasn’t made any of the faces or comments you’ve grown accustomed to over the years. In fact, if anything he looks like it’s reminded him of something else, like he’s been transported back in time into his own memories.

“His birthday was partway through our journey here actually.” You remember the meagre celebrations you’d been able to muster, celebrations that still felt joyous in being away from the QZ, even if nothing else was certain. You’d wanted to give him a better birthday next time. In Jackson, it’s been different … more like birthdays before.

“Did you know about here already then?” Joel asks.

“Nope, we were just looking for anywhere better than Kansas.” For a month you’d holed up in a cabin near Cody. It was through a chance encounter with Tommy that you’d ended up in Jackson. “Did you?”

Joel’s face slips momentarily and then he fashions a neutral expression. “No, I didn’t.” His words feel stiffer though, there’s a story he’s not ready to share there.

“You came here from Boston though? Well, you’re not originally from there with that accent, but Ellie said she grew up in the QZ?”

Joel nods. “I’m from Texas. I’d been in Boston for years though.”

”That’s a long journey to here.” You’d thought the journeys you had made over the years were long but Joel’s route here - there was so much open country.

Joel nods. “Yeah, I guess it was worth it though.”

“I guess so.”

“Sounds like you had a tough journey too, right? Travelling with a kid … hell, having a kid in this world after everything. It was hard enough before.”

“It’s been - I’m really lucky to have Sean and Beau. They’re the best Uncles to him, they’ve always been there for him.” You smile lightly. “And we’re here now, in a place I didn’t think could exist again.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

You raise your glass and smile, looking around at the crowded bar. It’s a hub in the evenings and you can see the natural cliques and groups that have formed in this community. It’s calm though, even with the noise and the chaos.

It’s rare.

“He had his first mini patrol a couple of days ago,” you say softly.

“That must have been hard.”

“Yes and no. Beau was with him and I guess this is the world now. I need him to survive in it.”

”You sound like you’re close.”

“We are. Well, he’s a teenager so it’s not exactly like it was. He’s a great kid though.”

Joel smiles.

“What uh- actually, don’t worry about it.”

“You wanted to ask about his dad?”

“You’ll tell me what you want to and when you want to. I won’t pry.” You may have never liked Joel Miller as much as you do in this moment. It’s such a small thing, that he won’t chase your stories or ask about your past. It means so much though.

You look over at him. “You’re something else, you know, Joel Miller.”

He shrugs.

“There’s so no big story,” you say, “it was … it was what it was and he got bit.”

Orange illuminating the sky as a building burns.

The gate so close, yet so far.

What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

“I’m sorry.”

“No-one’s fault.” You’ve told the story so many times it feels easy now, rehearsed the lines, fashioned the right expressions.

“We’re here now though, right?” you say, allowing as much optimism as you can muster through.

“Yeah.”

“Though unfortunately it’s not karaoke night tonight,” you say with a smirk, eyeing the machine in the corner of the bar and taking it as a welcome distraction.

“I’m devastated.”

“I expect so. What would be your song?”

“I don’t do karaoke.”

“Oh, come on. It can be fun, if you’re with the right people. Are you more of an open mic guy then? I could see that.”

For a moment you picture another world, another night. Joel sitting on a stool with a guitar, playing guitar. You imagine yourself with one of those sugary cocktails you always fantasised about, in a world where the most controversial thing you thought about fungi or mushrooms was whether they belonged on a pizza.

“What about you? What’s your song then?”

“Well, maybe if you come here for karaoke night then you’ll find out.”

“Oof, you’re asking a lot, sweetheart.”

“Then you’ll never know.”

The mood feels lighter, easier. You run your fingers over with the edge of your glass. You can’t remember the last time a friendship, let alone a date, felt this easy.

“I’m guessing you’re a Fleetwood Mac girl,” he says after a moment.

You don’t reply and just raise an eyebrow instead.

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition. Am I right?”

“Actually, you are. If Sean pours me enough alcohol, I have been known to blast out some Backstreet Boys.”

“I’m going home right now.”

You tilt your head back in a genuine burst of laughter, one hand over your mouth.

You meet Joel’s gaze as you settle yourself “I’m thinking maybe … Pearl Jam, definite grunge vibes and maybe Johnny Cash for you? And Springsteen, I’m feeling some karaoke Springsteen for you.”

“Maybe.”

“I thought - I thought this might only work on the bench,” you admit.

“Nah, I knew we’d be fine anywhere,” Joel says confidently, looking straight into your eyes. He looks at you as though he’s drinking in every detail of your face in this scenario, in this bar away from the torchlight you have previously gotten to know each other over.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. The bench is just a bench.”

”So, it’s actually about the company, you’re saying?”

“Maybe.” His mouth twitches with a smile.

“Joel Miller, you better be careful saying things like that. If anyone else overhears it, you may lose that tough reputation you’re cultivating.”

He shakes his head at you. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

The conversation continues to flow, you notice that you’ve got closer over the evening, close enough your knees are touching.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, ever the gentleman as the two of you start to go through the emotions of getting ready to leave.

You’re not far from the Tipsy Bison but you’re not ready for this to end.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk step in step and there’s something about being outside, the crisp air and the sound of both of your pairs of boots hitting the ground that instantly grounds you.

“So, you think we set off some conversations in there?”

“Most definitely,” you say with a smile. “I think Seth looked ready to run and tell everyone in the town.”

“God, I hate small towns.”

“Says the man from Texas. That’s like, the embodiment of small-town culture. I bet the suburbs there were just like a small town, I bet you had nosy neighbours and -”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. How was where you grew up any better?”

“It just was,” you say, folding your arms which makes Joel chuckle.

“Okay then, I believe you.”

“This is me,” you say, pointing at home in the near distance. The kitchen light is illuminated but you can’t see if Gabriel’s still up as his room faces the back.

“Thank you,” you say, awkwardly walking up to your porch. “For the drink, and the company.”

“Same to you. I uh - I had a nice time.”

“Just nice?” You like seeing this playful look in his eyes.

“I had a good time then.”

“Me too.“

Somehow you are now leaning against the wall next to your front door and Joel’s right by now. He doesn’t feel threatening though, there’s a careful distance as though he’s still gauging whether this is an option.

You nod in subtle encouragement, placing a hand on his arm, wetting your lips in anticipation.

He places a hand against the wall, framing your body and gently moving you slightly to one side, further from the door.

You’re never sure what to expect in a first kiss. Some people move straight to desperation and want and fire, some start slow and build up, set a fire inside you until you’re burning. You try and assess Joel, analyse which type he might be.

This is happening.

His lips meet yours. He starts off tentative, as though he’s confirming you��re on the same page still and then as your hands move up his arms to wrap around his neck, he deepens the kiss, presses his body closer to yours as you back up against the wall.

He’s illuminated in your porch light, a warm yellow glow shining on him.

For a moment it’s just the two of you. It doesn’t matter that you live in the world you do, or that it’s cold and damp outside - none of it matters.

You can feel the warmth of his body, familiar heat starting to pool in your stomach as he runs your hands down your shoulders, skimming the side of your waist down to the edge of your jeans.

“I should go,” he says, voice honeyed and low.

You don’t want him to. Even if it’s sensible.

There’s a slight silence, the nerves rising between you both as you try and figure out what to do next. You point at the blue painted front door next to you.

“I should go in.”

“Yeah. Good night.” He kisses you briefly on your lips and murmurs your name like it’s precious before turning away.

You notice Sean and Beau sitting at the kitchen table as you walk into the hallway. Sean has a Cheshire Cat grin on his face that makes you want to throw the nearest thing you can find at him.

“Evening,” Beau says with a mock drawl. “How was the Tipsy Bison?”

“I hate you both.”

“No, no you don’t.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“He went up to bed about half an hour ago but I think he’s actually playing on his console.” Electricity, consoles, another reason to stay in Jackson.

You can still feel the ghost of Joel’s lips on yours.

Maybe there are a few more reasons to stay here.

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lovesclinic · 1 year

Text

ྀི ۪ ׂ. ૮ ๑• . •๑ ა ۪ ׂ. ꒰ 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 !! ꒱

꒱ pre! breakout joel x feminine reader

꒱ in which joel learns that opposites attract

at first joel couldn’t stand his new neighbour.

without even meeting you he knew you as the selfish woman who had taken over the residence of a home of neighbours he already liked. neighbours sarah could spend the afternoon with when he was at work, so he was annoyed.

and even more so when he saw you.

you didn’t exactly.. fit in.

your bows and dresses, smooth unblemished skin, fluttering eyelashes and pink decor. joel constantly complained to sarah and tommy it ‘hurt his eyes’ despite your additions mostly being contained within the confines of your home.

to which sarah told him to shut up and be nice.

you and sarah had a little routine. after school she would ‘help’ you plant you veggie garden out front your house. she called it helping but really you were on your knees huffing and puffing, getting grubby in the dirt while sarah sat untouched in your wheelbarrow gossiping about strict teachers and mean girls at her school.

unknown to joel, you and sarah went on with this little routine for weeks. he was always out and work and sarah enjoyed your company way more than the last residents who were wrinkly old and made her raisin cookies rather than the chocolate muffins from the bakery you and her enjoy on the occasional afternoon.

however, you were unaware that your afternoons with your sweet neighbour sarah were secret.

you knew that her dad worked late so you just thought that was why you hadn’t been properly introduced to meet him yet.

though you do see him often, just looking. though when he realises you are aware of him somewhat staring, he quickly averts his attention elsewhere. Joel would never admit it, but he often dwells on the contrast of him and you. your constant smile and pink against his cold monotone and dark palate. opposites attract after all…

one wednesday night sarah went back home, promising to bring you back a movie to watch after school tomorrow.

two hours later, around 8:30 the familiar girl was standing on your porch knocking wildly.

“just a minute!” you called out, turning off your TV and walking to your door, you silently hoped it wasn’t anyone important as you were currently dressed in a low cut white lacy tank top and some quite tiny pink shorts.

you walk through your kitchen, just noticing your feet, wearing pink fuzzy slides, exposing your pink toenails.

opening the door you see a familiar face, sarah, and surprisingly a scruffy tall man you recognise to be her dad stands behind her. mumbling.

“n- sarah we can le- ACHOO!” he cut himself off from his babbling with a loud sneeze, drawing your attention to his red nose and shivering frame.

“oh come inside, sarah you put on the kettle hon!” you set to work, sarah knew you worked as a nurse in your old town so she was sure you could fix her dad.

he was snivelling and clearly sick. but like the stubborn man he is, he tried to play it off before finally giving in as you were not taking no for an answer. somehow you were more stubborn and headstrong than him.

so there sat a joel, a large burly man seemingly out of place on your fluffy pale pink sofa, a bunny patterned mug of steaming chai vanilla latte in his hands, staring at the women beside him.

“okay, joel, c’mere” you say. when he leans over, he definitely wasn’t prepared for your sudden touch, and he can feel blood running to his cheeks. how could he not?

“g-goodness. you’re burning. you finish up that chai, mkay? m’gonna run the bath for you,”

sarah dipped out the door before you could ask her to take him home and get him in the bath. that stubborn girl, was she really leaving the job up to you?

truth was, joel wanted to be taken care of, and you were happy to do it.

and now joel appreciates every bit of you.

now joel poorly hides a smile as you bounce on his lap babbling excitedly over a new pink bow, your hair flying around you and tickling his face

now he (begrudgingly) allows you to put lipstick and blush on him, and while he hates the feeling of product on his face, it’s all worth it when he sees your eyes light up with joy.

#grumpy x sunshine #joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #xfemininereader #coquette #xbimboreader #x bimbo #x sunshine reader #joel miller fluff #oneshot

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queenshelby · 2 months

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Our Little Secret (Part 31)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Birth, Complications

Moments later, Cillian joined the others in the dining room and, after you were finished feeding Mara, you followed suit.

Everyone sat down at the table, exchanging polite greetings and small talk. Your mother was still upset, but she refrained from saying anything more hurtful. Instead, she focused on making pleasant conversation with Siobhan and Cillian's other sister Sian.

As time progressed, Cillian's mother rose from her seat, carrying a steaming dish to serve everyone. "Dig in, everyone!" she encouraged, gesturing at the array of delicious food. "We can all eat now," she announced cheerfully.

"Siobhan, why don't you start passing out these plates?" she suggested, handing a stack of dishes to her daughter. Siobhan obliged, distributing the food among the guests. The aroma wafted enticingly through the air, tantalizing their senses and drawing their attention to the feast laid out before them.

"This smells amazing, mum," Cillian praised, serving himself generous portions of the delectable dishes. "You've outdone yourself once again," he complimented sincerely, watching his mother beam proudly.

"Thank you, Cillian," she murmured appreciatively while Frank rolled his eyes for reasons unclear to you.

Cillian and Frank then shared another round of heated glares, their tension escalating with each passing moment. Neither one of them uttered a word to one another, but their body language spoke volumes. Their rigid postures and clenched jaws hinted at the animosity brewing beneath the surface.

"Would anyone like some wine?" Cillian's mother asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, causing Cillian to nod.

"Are you alright?" she then added worriedly, her gaze darting between Cillian and Frank.

"Of course," Cillian assured her, forcing a tight-lipped grin. "Just tired," he lied smoothly, reaching for his glass of wine.

"Well, babies do that to you, Cillian," his mother laughed kindly, patting the hand he rested on the table. "You need to pace yourself because it will get worse," she then chuckled, her gaze flitting between him and you.

"We will," you promised, meeting her sympathetic gaze. "We seem to be working well as a team so far," you added, attempting to lighten the mood.

Cillian nodded, flashing a brief smile before returning to his meal. The group fell silent, each member consumed by their own thoughts as they savored the scrumptious food. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, but the palatable dishes successfully managed to divert their attention from the simmering hostility.

Despite the occasional strained laughter and forced smiles, it proved somewhat challenging to maintain a cohesive conversation and, at around 9 o'clock, after a few more glasses of wine, Cillian's mother called it a day.

"I think I should get some rest before tomorrow," she said, yawning widely before she left the dining room and, as soon as she did, your mother and Frank looked at each other, rose from their seats and disappeared into separate rooms without saying a single word, leaving you, Cillian, Siobhan and Sian sitting there awkwardly.

"Don't worry," Siobhan tried to console you, her hand squeezing your arm comfortingly. "Tomorrow will be better," she then smiled encouragingly, causing Cillian to shake his head in disbelieve.

"This is ridiculous," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I didn't expect that we would have to deal with such nonsense when we came here," he lamented before walking towards the living room in order to confront them both.

"They are behaving like children," he said, his jaw muscles bulging visibly. "Frank especially," he then added bitterly while Siobhan and Sian exchanged knowing glances.

"Just give them some time to process this Cillian," Siobhan reasoned patiently though Cillian merely shrugged in reply.

"They had nine months to process this," he argued stubbornly, crossing his arms defiantly.

"I understand, Cillian," Siobhan consoled sympathetically, her tone gentle and understanding. "You're frustrated right now--"

"I'm beyond frustrated," he cut her off impatiently, his brows furrowing in agitation before barging off to find them.

"You'll only provoke them," Siobhan called after him, her words falling on deaf ears.

Sian sighed heavily, shaking her head in exasperation. "Why does everything involve drama in our family?" she moaned despondently, casting a sorrowful glance at you.

"Fuck, I feel like I am at fault," you sighed, biting your lip nervously. "If I hadn't gotten involved with Cillian in the first place, none of this would have happened," you lamented, staring blankly at the empty wine glass on the table.

"Y/N," Siobhan said to you, patting your hand. "We all do dumb things sometimes, especially when we are in love," she assured you fiercely, her unwavering gaze conveying a certainty that suprised you.

"I am not in love with him," you lied, your voice trembling slightly. "It was a short-lived and stupid little fling," you dismissed it, biting your lip nervously. "We weren't really serious about it," you insisted, although the truth was much different.

"Sure, if this is what you want to tell yourself," Siobhan replied, offering you a comforting smile. "But, in any event, what I am saying is that you aren't responsible for other people's reactions or behavior," she emphasized, her gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. "Cillian and you seem to be happy enough with whatever arrangements you have in place so your mother and Frank will just need to let it go and deal with it," she concluded resolutely, her voice firm and unwavering.

You sighed heavily, mulling over her words carefully. She made sense, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for inadvertently causing turmoil within Cillian's family.

"You are right," you admitted reluctantly, your voice barely audible. "Cillian and I are content with our arrangement and if my mum doesn't want anything to do with her grandchild then that's her loss," you determined, swallowing thickly.

"Exactly," Siobhan agreed wholeheartedly, her gaze locking onto yours just as Cillian appeared again, sighing heavily.

"I give up," he muttered, throwing his hands into the air dramatically.

"I told you there was no point talking with Frank when he gets like this," Sian reminded him, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, he's got to learn that the relationship between Y/N and myself is not his business," Cillian growled, shaking his head in frustration. "He can't control everyone's life," he added before barging upstairs.

Cillian was visibly upset, his anger and irritation plainly evident in his tense posture and stormy gaze. You watched him disappear upstairs, his footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floors.

"I will be back," you told the sisters before following Cillian and, as you approached the bedroom in which Mara had been sleeping, you could hear Cillian speaking softly to your Babygirl.

"Shh, it's okay my perfect little girl," he cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Let's just get that nappy changed, shall we?" he told her, seeing that, clearly, it was this time of the night for her.

"Do you want me to do this?" you asked quietly as you opened the door of the bedroom, observing Cillian cradling Mara lovingly.

"No, I've got it," he replied, looking up at you briefly before tenderly laying Mara down on the changing table. "I actually enjoy this part," he explained, his voice soft and soothing. You watched him closely, admiring how adeptly he navigated the task.

"Really? You enjoy changing dirty nappies?" you queried skeptically, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Really," he confirmed, his lips quirking upward in amusement. "I mean, it's something I can do, you know. She won't let me bottle feed her and she most certainly won't go to sleep for me anymore," he then explained, chuckling slightly. "She prefers you to do it," he continued, grinning broadly at you.

"Well, I do have the mother's touch," you winked while Cillian disposed of the used diaper into the bin, before he grabbed a fresh one and placed it on the changing mat.

"Or maybe you're just naturally gifted Y/N. You are amazing with her," Cillian said honestly while putting a new nappy on to her and taping it securely before he lifted her up in his arms. "Ready for mommy to feed you again?" he then asked your baby sweetly while she gurgled happily and kicked her legs in excitement.

You took her out of his hands, kissing her forehead affectionately before responding to Cillian. "I guess the only real difference is that I have got the goodies and you don't," you joked lightly, watching him chuckle softly.

"You are perfect with her Cillian and you are most certainly perfect with me these days," you admitted quietly, feeling Cillian's gaze lock onto yours.

"If I was really that perfect, then I wouldn't have made you come here with me," he retorted, his gaze flickering across your face. "I mean, with the way Sarah and Frank are acting, this is far from ideal and I am sorry for making you come. You deserve to be treated so much better," Cillian apologized, his gaze boring into yours.

"Cillian, you didn't make me come here," you countered, your gaze flickering across his face. "I chose to come with you, remember? It wasn't an obligation," you pointed out, watching him consider your words.

"You are something else, you know that?" Cillian murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion. "And I think that l am actually in love with you, Y/N."

You paused, studying him intently. His confession caught you off guard, his words painting a vivid image of his inner turmoil. "Cillian," you breathed, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "I think I may be in love with you too," you confessed hesitantly, blushing profusely.

His breath hitched sharply, his gaze locked onto yours. "Really?" he gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I have been for a while but things were just too difficult between us. You then met Amanda and dated her for a while and I figured that my feelings for you were unrequited so I tried to ignore them,” you confessed, blushing deeply. "I never expected that things would change," you added, squirming uncomfortably.

"Things have definitely changed," Cillian agreed, his gaze burning with intensity. "Or maybe they haven't, and I was just trying too hard to ignore how I felt as well," he sighed wistfully, reaching out to cup your cheek affectionately.

"So, what are we going to do now then?” you asked cautiously, your gaze fluttering across Cillian's face.

"Well, we could work things out. We could be a proper family, move in together and give this relationship a shot," Cillian murmured, his words stirring a warm flush in your veins. "You, me, Mara and, occasionally, Max," he added, his gaze piercing into yours.

"You know what? That sounds absolutely wonderful," you exhaled, smiling brightly. "I want that, Cillian," you confessed fervently, your voice trembling slightly just as Cillian finally leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

To be continued...

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine

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cecilxa · 9 months

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the boba theory

summary: ayato likes boba, but he loves you even more

contents: fluff, humour, lightheartedness all around, ayato is down bad, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), reader really likes boba sorry if you don't like it (bobalover!reader), quite dialogue adjacent

cw: food

a/n: longer than usual, but i thought it was a really cute twist on the olive theory and just ran with it! @ibitekaeya i promised i would write more ayato :)

wc: 1.4k

Ayato can feel your gaze on him. But strangely, he doesn’t feel it on his face, nor his arms, nor his, ahem, behind (which you, for some reason he pretends not to know, seem to like looking at). No, he feels it on one of his gloved hands, the other one presently holding one of yours. But even then, no, that doesn’t seem right either. So what could you possibly be staring at?

Oh.

It’s his boba. The smooth, creamy milk tea of his dreams combined with chewy tapioca pearls creates a sensation that’s refreshing for his palate and also soothing to the throat. It’s really quite a perfect drink to enjoy at all times, even when it’s cold out. You also seem to agree, given how you’ve been looking at it the whole time on your walk through the street.

He can’t help but feel a little jealous. It’s one of the rare off days he gets, and you’re more interested in his boba than him? The betrayal. Sure, it may be somewhat (and he’d like to stress the somewhat) childish of him, but what’s he got to do to be able to receive some attention? You haven’t even noticed how his eyes have drooped slightly, or how his smile is ever so strained around the corners of his mouth, or how his grip has tightened, which is causing some pearls to slowly creep up the cup…

“Ayato!”

He startles, his grip lessens, and those sweet, sweet tapioca pearls are saved for today. And his dignity, you guess.

“Yes? Was there something you saw that interested you? I’ll gladly pay for it.”

“No, it’s just that your boba was going to spill–you were gripping it so tightly.”

“Oh.”

He silently thanks the Electro Archon. It’s only the second date, and he’s not sure whether he’d be able to handle the late nights in his bed replaying the horrifying moment of his boba spilling all over his clothes while his crush looks on. He’s cringing just thinking about it. Sure, he’d be able to play it off, but hotpot nights would definitely be a little more intense. Maybe she also has a fondness for similar milk-based drinks?

To steer the conversation away from embarrassing moments, an idea strikes, and he ushers you towards a nearby stall on the street, one that gives off a slightly sweet scent.

“A boba tea, please.”

The vendor’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Kamisato Ayato ordering a simple drink, and while with a supposed significant other?! Just know that the rumours will be spreading as soon as you leave the stall–not that they’ve not started already.

“Right away, sir.”

You look at Ayato questionably. He already has a boba, so why would he need another one? Similarly to the vendor’s expression, your eyes also widen, although much more subtly than the person shyly peeking up to grab another glance at the esteemed Yashiro Commissioner.

Without even having to look at you, Ayato chuckles again, but with something akin to fondness.

“You’ve guessed it. It’s for you. I would offer you mine–I don’t really like it anyway–but I doubt you’d want it with all my saliva.”

The white lie falls off his tongue as if he were actually telling the truth.

He turns to hand the vendor some cash, but before he can properly give it over, you grab his hand and shake your head.

“It’s mine, right? So I should pay. I’ve paid for stuff in the past when we’ve been together; it doesn’t matter whether we’re on a date or not.”

He hesitates, then retracts his hand. He then smiles–one that lifts the corners of his eyes, and one that reveals the crinkles of his mouth.

“Of course. If that is your wish.”

You proceed to give the vendor some cash and take the boba from their hands. If only you were looking at Ayato instead.

“Your patronage is greatly appreciated!”

Walking away, Ayato dips his face towards your ear and whispers softly, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“A secret for our next date.”

He winks. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. Why did he have to be this attractive? To cool yourself down (and to avoid keeping eye contact), you decide to take a rather large gulp of the drink, which even Ayato is slightly concerned about.

“Don’t drink too violently. The pearls could get stuck in your throat, and I don’t think either of us would appreciate a surprise trip to the doctor’s on only our second date, hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, but then the flavour hits your tongue. And then your eyes light up in a way that makes your whole face glow. As you chew on the tapioca pearls, a smile grows on your face, which widens as time goes on. The soothing sensation! The mesh of textures! The subtle sweetness! What a delight to experience!

All the while, Ayato’s now the one staring at you with widened eyes. The look on your face is nothing short of extraordinary. Something in his heart stirs. Seeing you this happy, he’s now certain of the fact that whatever you ask for will be granted if the smile that graces your features is one that he gets to experience. It’s somehow only now that he realises you really have him wrapped around your pretty little finger. His eyes crinkle.

“You never fail to amaze me.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Please, carry on.”

–

It’s been a few months since that incident, and Ayato still recalls it fondly whenever he’s feeling down or for motivation to finish his work quicker so that he’s able to spend some much-needed quality time with you. He smiles softly, chuckling at the expression he so vividly remembers. The look on your face is so endearing that he wonders how lucky he must’ve been when his ‘hunch’ ended up being the source of one of his most cherished memories.

“What’s so funny?”

Your question grounds him in reality as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

“How I’m looking forward to beating Thoma in our hotpot game today; the look on his face will truly be something… hehe.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, said housekeeper walks in, carrying a tall drink of boba. You gasp a little, something only Ayato can hear, and he grins. However, said housekeeper also adds a message that makes his heart not-so-subtly skip a beat.

“My lord, here’s your boba that you requested. It’s your favourite flavour too.”

Thoma then sends a greeting your way, which you reply to with a grin. A pause, and then Ayato hears what might possibly be the loudest laugh you’ve ever let out.

“Good joke, Thoma! I even believed you for a second there. He even told me yesterday how much he disliked it. It’s quite sweet, actually. He always has one with him so that even if we’re not near a drinks vendor, I can still have one, even if he’s not expecting me to be there.”

Thoma awkwardly laughs along, sending questioning looks towards Ayato, to which he responds with a smile that contains little to no mirth at all. Through gritted teeth, Ayato also laughs, although it sounds much more like a bark than a proper chortle.

“Darling, could you excuse Thoma and me for a quick moment? I promise we won’t be long.”

Poor Thoma.

“Oh, sure. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ayato strides deftly out of the room, with Thoma following behind. He also doesn’t want you to notice the faint heat that he feels spreading across his ears.

“My lord, what are you talking about? Everyone in the Kamisato Estate knows how much you like boba.”

Ayato sighs.

“Their happiness is the one thing I hold most dear to my heart. If that means sacrificing some… drink, albeit one that I also hold dear, then I would not hesitate to purge it from my diet. They make me do foolish things to my heart, and subsequently make me do foolish things in return.”

Thoma is left stunned, while Ayato swiftly dismisses him to go back inside. He does turn back, however, and gives him a smile that never means good things.

“I’m looking forward to our hotpot today. Make sure to be sufficiently prepared.”

Poor Thoma.

Ayato pads in quietly, his footsteps silent as a cat’s, but pauses. He lets his gaze linger on your satisfied expression, and his ears pick up a pleasant hum. How wonderful. How so, so wonderful you are. When the time comes, he guesses he’ll have to reveal the grand truth, but for now, he’s perfectly content basking in your happiness.

What you do for love.

a/n: likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated!! 💙 (blue for ayato)

#ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato fluff #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x you #i miss my inazuma boys

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uselessmicrowave · 7 months

Text

kinktober day six

tfa optimus prime

tws/content- masturbation, food play, feeding kink, size proportions are fucked sorry, optimus doesn’t know the name of the foods so neither will you, sticky self service, robots eating human foods, sensory play (?)

Optimus knows that this is not the best idea. Consuming organic foods was possible, probably. This might’ve been the type of thing that Bumblebee, or maybe even Prowl would try. Optimus feels very… out of place laying on his chassis with a small bowl of organic fruits in front of him.

But when, other than right now, would he get a chance at this?

With a glance at his door to make sure it’s closed, he lets his valve paneling retract. Worries start to lace his wandering thoughts. What if the fruit was gross to him? Would it alter his frame? What if it makes him sick? What if he gets sick and has to explain to Ratchet why he’s sick? Primus, that would be embarrassing.

Optimus, quite forcefully, mentally shoves these thoughts out of the way and lets one of his servos wander down to his array. It’ll be fine. No reason to worry. Bumblebee had eaten crackers before and been fine, he shouldn’t be worried about eating something healthier than that.

He’s quickly reminded that in the recent events and interactions with the Decepticons he has had zero to no time for his more personal ‘needs’. Spreading his stabilizers a little wider, he reaches for the first experimental treat.

He’s careful in taking it out of the bowl, scanning over the fruit. It’s small, no bigger than the tips of his digits, and a deep dark indigo color. He had seen Sari eat these by the handfuls, they must be somewhat palatable for her to like them, right?

Absolutely correct. The fruit seems to pop with sweet flavor as he starts to chew. He notices that it’s left a small purple stain on his servo plating, probably on his lower derma, too.

After swallowing the fruit, he realizes that all his former worries were silly. He, now a bit amused, reaches for what looks to be a bigger, more plump version of what he had consumed. Lazily circling his outer node, he pushes the nameless fruit past his dermas.

It’s nothing like the last one, to his surprise. Flavor seeps through where it was formerly connected to a vine, it’s almost akin to the taste of cheap high grade, not that he minded. The texture was not that different, but this one has small, almost unnoticeable seeds.

He scans through the selection, picking up two of the almost half circle white ones. He turns one over in his servo, still chewing, to see the thin red skin that had protected the fruit inside.

The prime stuffs his intake once more, shoving his helm down into the soft blanket. The crescent shaped treats reminded him of a candy he loved from his academy years. He sucks on the fruit, savoring the flavor.

Who knew Earth could be so similar and different from Cybertron at the same time?

The organic plant crunches loudly in between his denta, it creates a whole new texture, completely different from the prior two. Optimus swallows, once again reaching for the bowl.

This one is cube shaped and light red, but not exactly pink in color. Juice drips down his faceplates as he bites the cube in half, he hums in surprise. Its not as sweet as the other ones, and it gushes with sweet liquid when he chews on it. He licks his digits after eating the second half, pressing on his array harder. Optimus moans, squirming and beginning to grind against his servo.

Picking another one out, he shortly scans over the fruit before placing it on his glossa. It’s bright red and bubbly looking, the saturation of flavor is much higher than the rest. His spike presses up against it’s housing, but he doesn’t let the panel slide away.

The next one he picks is cut into thick cylindrical shapes, a sort of cream color. Optimus almost squishes the fruit between his digits, sliding it onto his glossa and tasting the sweet and gentle flavor it had to offer.

Arousal keeps on building in his tanks, it creates a tight feeling in his core that makes it harder to focus on what’s in his intake. The prime whines, wishing he had more of the crunchy slices from earlier. He licks the residue left on his digits, sucking on them to draw more of the vaguely sweet flavor out.

His optics flare when he rubs his outer node again, with a side-to-side motion. He groans, vents growing quicker and his frame trembling.

Overload slams into his circuits like a truck, it makes him tense hard on his berth, arching his back strut and snapping his stabilizers shut. He does his best not to knock the bowl over, it would make his sheets a mess.

He feels so light as he slowly recovers from that mind-shattering overload, reality slowly rushes back into his frame. He relaxes, going totally limp and letting himself just wallow in the relief.

He sighs, knowing that he’s not going to be able to do this same thing in quite a while. But he doesn’t care at the moment. All he really cares about right now are the licks of afterglow he feels in his core.

#this ones SO FUCKING GOOD #SO good ppl #yummy #putting this in x reader bcos op simps will love it #valveplug #micro’s kinktober #kinktober #tfa #transformers animated #optimus #tfa optimus #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime #tfa optimus x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime x reader #kinktober 2023

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blood-orange-juice · 3 months

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I don't get this guy. I don't get this guy at all. The moment I think I Got This Guy someone quotes a line I don't know how to explain.

Another one from Labyrinth Warriors:

Childe: This may come as an unpleasant surprise to Miss Xinyan and Shiki Taishou, but I'm not someone who cares for allegiance and affiliation.

Childe: Good and evil, right and wrong, duty and destiny... are these things really so important? Are they really more appealing than the euphoria of battle and close combat?

So... no grand glorious goal, no special destiny (or perhaps none that he cares for?), no sense of duty. No morals either.

Sir, why are you *behaving* then? He's surprisingly restrained for someone who thinks like that.

Why the No Lying thing? Ok, I can theorise he just doesn't want to overcomplicate things.

Why the maniacal keeping of promises? That doesn't help with anything (except for making him slightly more palatable to the general public).

He obviously tries not to kill when it's not necessary (to the point where we have no confirmation whether the guy has ever killed a human). He doesn't start fights first. There are some pretty strict rules that he follows and those seem to get him very little actual fighting. Seems a bit counterproductive.

Why the constant larp. Ok, maybe it's not larp, his set of social skills Just Looks Like That (understandable, considering where he got it).

Also that whole preciousness of childhood dreams thing. Looks like a moral stance to me.

Perhaps I'm overthinking things and there's truly nothing else? Battle as a form of trascendence, a tendency to only feel alive on a hefty dose of adrenaline, a few human attachments. Attachments come with a desire to make loved ones happy, I suppose that could somewhat humanise his behaviour.

Still doesn't explain half of it.

Or I'm overcomplicating things and he's trying to convince himself he really thinks that. Not exactly lying but not the truth either.

*bangs her head on the keyboard*

#what is wrong with him #childe #tartaglia #I swear #he's just a bored cat

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queerpossumtrenchcoat · 18 days

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Let's talk gender expression, awful haircuts and realisation of who I am! I came out as gender fluid approximately around the age of the third picture above- and I got an awful haircut to match it, but at the time I felt like THE gender vibe; I was 13, or so, and didn't realise I looked like I'd had a fistfight with a weed whacker. It was a stepping stone however, for me to discover who I was; after this time I started to experiment with my look, name and pronouns, leaning more towards he/they and slowly changing my name from Jaimee to Jai and or James- small steps, I know, but crucial ones in me realising my dead name no longer really fit me as a person. James was a family name after all. Finding myself wasn't always glamorous, the look wasn't always particularly handsome or pretty, it was colour the tips of my hair with sharpie markers and conditioner until my hair had a distinctly petrol-and-macadamia type stench or cutting it with a cheap, disposable razor which ended up giving me hair reminiscent of the early 2000s emo scene (which I totally was, even if I only saw 6 years of the 'early 2000s!'). I would hack off chunks, flatten my chest with cheap Duct Tape and wear boxers I stole from my dad in order to feel some semblance of who I was, using makeup to poorly build cheek bones and eyebrows so I could look like my hero at the time, Brendon Urie (God, that aged poorly..) In time I got creative, I learned that my parents wouldn't let me get a 'real boy's haircut' so I'd have to improvise; here came the next 6 months of beanie hats and ponytails pulled over to create a 'boy fringe' which, in retrospect, was giving more Justin Beiber than Emo Quartet, but that all chained when I turned 16 and... Got to dye my hair for the first time!! It was the greatest experience for my gender to date!! My mother bought me midnight blue hairdye for my 16th birthday and helped me dye it; I looked in the mirror at my fairly short ish, dark blue hair and I saw it. I saw him, stood staring back at me with tears in his eyes. I saw ME. I told my girlfriend, at the time anyway, straight away and she accepted me with open arms- I think she was expecting the genderfluid-to-trans masc timeline, which funnily enough he followed in 2022 during lockdown. Lockdown dug its claws into my gender and expression quite deeply; while at home with my mother, father and two very young siblings I came to experiment with my gender a lot more, dressing in more masculine clothes and cutting my hair off for 'sake of ease', or that's what I told my parents anyway- they believed it too, surprisingly. I went through college having to somewhat pretend I was just a feminine man, I was exhausted and on the brink of suicide, as most people my age at the time were, and went by Eden because it seemed more palatable to the others around me- didnt stop me being picked on, but it wasn't by students... It was my own teacher! Shout out to Miss Dunsby! Then I dropped out of college. I picked up a shitty little cafe job as a barista and linecook, cooking meals, making coffees, pretending I gave half a shit about a joke I'd heard over and over again; I dyed my hair neon green and used my pay checks to get it cut SHORT short for the first time- I looked hella fine, in my opinion, but I was also starting to realise something.. Maybe I had been right the first time, because I didn't feel like a man all the time. Back to the drawing board... One shaved head and a job at a gay bar later, I started using the art of drag, performing as a female persona, to realise that I was Masc-Agender, like a boyish presenting genderless person. Easy enough, I suppose. I started wearing makeup, being myself and wearing whatever I damn pleased, uncaring of social cues and rules, I was me. I was happy. I AM happy. If there is anything you can take away from this, once you find the part of yourself you can express your feelings, thoughts and emotions with, go wild!! I did and it made realising my truth so much easier!

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charmwasjess · 5 months

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Sifo-Dyas Wasn’t Supposed to Die: or The Worst Theory Ever

“All the things you should have stopped, but you didn’t, and nothing will ever be right again. And the things you’ve done,” he whispered. “By the pitiless stars, the things you’ve done…” -Dooku (on Dooku), Yoda: Dark Rendezvous by Sean Stewart

Theory: Dooku killed Sifo-Dyas not because it was planned, but to stop Sidious chucking his former best friend alive into a Jedi-torturing cave to use him as a vision-powered early warning system for his prequel era plots. (A horrible detail not of my own invention, but the exact fate Yoda sees happening to Sifo-Dyas in the Clone Wars episode where he has that Sidious-created vision.)

Anyway, STRAP IN FOR MY WORST IDEA EVER. I hear you. I hear you. Oh Jess, does your Dooku apologist garbage know no limits?! But I’m not giving Dooku a pass here, even if this is a somewhat more palatable version of events than Dooku just killing Sifo-Dyas because Sidious said so, depending on your interpretation of palatable. I realize this sounds like a stretch, but I hope I have convincing-enough evidence to back up my claims and show my work. I really believe that some things which make utterly no sense in the whole Dooku Murders Sifo-Dyas to Take Over the Clone Plot story arc suddenly become actually reasonable, or at least more clear, if you look at it all through the lens of this possibility.

Killing Sifo-Dyas Makes No Sense (for anybody)

Let’s be real: Sifo-Dyas’s murder fucking sucks, and this is even by Dooku’s admittedly poor murder standards. It’s both bad and stupid; you push even lightly on the plan with logic and it falls apart.

For some reason, instead of killing this important person who could ruin all his plans himself, Dooku hires some criminals he doesn’t even trust (apparently for good reason, as they turn around and keep evidence to blackmail him) to do the job. The logistics of this are further complicated and stupid: Sifo-Dyas isn’t even supposed to be where he ends up getting killed; he’s unexpectedly off on a different side mission from the mission he’s originally on. That would imply that this was something of a crime of opportunity, instead of something Dooku spent a long time meticulously planning - something of a relief, since Dooku would have to be trying to do a worse job at this. There’s even a civilian witness to the attack who, of course, survives.

Miraculously, the crash does manage to kill Sifo-Dyas (perhaps the only successful part of the whole fucking plot) but then, they move his corpse, so if this is a whole “stage a believable crash death to hide the murder element and buy time for the Clone Wars plot” thing, it’s missing a pretty key component. Then they further fuck that up by forgetting to take his very distinctive lightsaber out of the crash site, definitely linking Sifo-Dyas to whatever happened there. As a cherry on top of this disastrous murder sundae, Dooku then can’t resist Jedi Funeral burning Sifo’s body, in front of a bunch of fucking witnesses no less. He probably uglycried in front of them too, but now this is just my speculation.

But even if the murder was perfectly executed, WHICH IT WASN'T, killing Sifo-Dyas creates a tangible link back to Dooku, from the physical evidence to the established association between the characters - a trail of breadcrumbs Anakin and Obi-Wan are easily able to follow back as is explored in the Clone Wars “Lost One” episode. And Dooku knows better; he used to be a Jedi who helped with Jedi death investigations, as we see in Tales. Killing Sifo-Dyas opens up a whole host of “whys” and extra attention at a time when the Sith need what happened on Kamino to stay very quiet.

And why murder someone who is already actively working with you? Especially when Sifo-Dyas needs the clones to stay secret too? Dooku seems already to have had everything he needed in terms of access to the Kaminoans, as he’s able to successfully pull off the plan without Sifo-Dyas after his death. He’s also the one with the money, he’s got the connection to Jango; he could have easily gone behind his back. And furthermore, Sifo-Dyas trusted him - seemingly a large narrative reason for bothering to detail their long friendship and history of trying to change vision outcomes. Books like Dooku: Jedi Lost do a lot of work to establish that Sifo-Dyas could have had reason to go to Dooku in good faith and expect him to listen.

Keeping Sifo-Dyas Alive Makes Sense (for Sidious)

This idea about the Sith Torture cave is not my random invention. Sidious uses a vision of Sifo-Dyas trapped for 12 years in a Jedi-torturing cave to fuck with Yoda – and let’s be real, probably also Dooku, who does not look like he’s having a good time in this episode. In fact, Sidious used Dooku’s blood as a ritual component to CREATE the vision. (There being enough love/bond/connection left in Dooku’s blood to use it to attack Yoda after he’s been a Sith for 12 years is probably another horrible post.) But this seems to establish the alternative cave scenario for Sifo-Dyas as something that both Sidious and Dooku have at least thought about, and are still thinking about, years after his death, and powerfully enough to weave it into a vision.

And can you imagine how interested Sidious is in Sifo-Dyas’s powers, especially if they’re offering spoiler trailers for all of his favorite plans? He is very interested in prophecy, the future, and arguably uses some of those aspects in his manipulation of Anakin. Sifo-Dyas represents both a great threat and a great opportunity to a Sith Lord whose multi-tentacle plans are endlessly convoluted, and by their very nature require multiple contingency plans. How advantageous to have someone around whose one weird power is seeing alternative possible futures?

Keeping Sifo-Dyas alive but captive removes the only other person who knows the exact details about the Clone plot while preserving something potentially very valuable to Sidious. And there’s a further positive: a problem with the whole secret weapon clone army situation is that they need to be revealed at the pivotal moment in the new war. Someone trusted needs to tell the Jedi Council about the Clone Army and convince them to use them in the crisis. Who better to do this than producing beloved, missing Master Sifo-Dyas (who ten years of torture in a Sith cave has made very cooperative and corrupted indeed) to reveal the army to the Republic?

In Conclusion

But... Sifo-Dyas was his best friend, once, and Dooku chokes. Sentimentality, if not outright lingering love, is a flaw for Dooku as a Sith, and one he trips over repeatedly throughout his atrocities. And we can’t confuse this with actual valor. He doesn’t try to save Sifo-Dyas, only give him a less insanely brutal fate. He orders his death, and it’s a sloppy rush job for all the reasons you might expect from a sudden change of plan, and possibly, the need to kill him before Sidious figured out what he was actually doing. This might even explain him using a third party to do the job: he has plausible deniability to say “well, I ordered them to capture him, but they fucked it up.” Which of course, they did.

Bonus Round

This theory would also explain two lingering clues we have about Sifo-Dyas’s death involving the behavior of the two guilty participants around the topic:

Dooku

Dooku is really putting the “lie” in “unreliable narrator” during this era, so it can be difficult (and perhaps foolish) to look too deeply into his reactions. But I think it’s fair to say that Dooku acts “pretty fucking weird” about Sifo-Dyas’s death.

In the Lost One episode, he makes an impassioned appeal to Obi-Wan about joining him (a favorite topic of Dooku’s), claiming that Sifo-Dyas understood what he was doing and worked with him willingly. This conversation is only taking place because they caught Dooku in the literal fucking act of covering up evidence of Sifo-Dyas’s murder. It’s not like anyone is unclear about what they’re doing here. Dooku knows. Obi-Wan and Anakin know. Dooku knows that they know. And yet, he still, seemingly genuinely, wants to tell them that Sifo-Dyas sought him out and worked with him. “Join me, just like this guy I ended up murdering” is not a great argument, and Dooku has to know that. So what is the source of his doublethink on this topic? What’s the detail he’s holding onto that’s letting him keep his elaborate palace of denial intact here?

In Tales of the Jedi, Dooku makes an unclear, brief, stammering mention of Sifo-Dyas in the list of the things he’s done for Sidious, and yet killing Yaddle outright is an obvious difficult struggle for him, and narratively shown as a clear before/after moment for Dooku’s fall. The Sith ghost version of Dooku in the Yoda comic outright calls her his first kill. (Lol, Ramil Serenno would like a word.) But you’d think murdering his former best friend who was actively working with him would be a bigger deal? There's this pattern where it almost seems as if Dooku thinks about what happened to Sifo-Dyas differently than his other kills, as if he has some reason to think what he did was less bad or more necessary, even insisting on repeating the absurd “we were working together” narrative when it really has lost relevance in light of how that ended up.

Sidious

Sidious is as onscreen physically violent to Dooku as we ever see him in non-Legends canon in the Lost One Sifo-Dyas episode. He goes into the conversation angry and ends up choking Dooku out over holocomm. If Dooku did, as we assume, exactly what Sidious wanted him to in killing Sifo-Dyas back 10-12 years ago, why does he come into that conversation so violently furious and willing to outright hurt Dooku in a way that he doesn't over other mistakes?

Bonus Bonus Round

In season 5, I suspect the reason we got Sifo-Dyas being tortured in the Sith cave in Yoda’s vision was because Clone Wars was going to make this reveal (and make it so that this was indeed Sifo-Dyas’s fate in the new canon), storyboard or animated part of it, and then decided not to and recycled the images for Yoda’s vision. My pure speculation, but it would fit with their pattern of unused/scrapped/recycled Clone Wars storylines.

That’s it! That’s all! You can’t get the time you spent reading this post back, but now this horrible theory lives in your head too.

#the clone wars #sifo dyas #count dooku #star wars theories #star wars meta #text post #long post #darth sidious #star wars

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dark-frosted-heart · 5 months

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Beauty and the Beast’s Christmas - Sariel Noir

Christmas collection story

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

It was just Sariel and I, alone together in a peaceful snowy white world.

On Christmas night, we came to a snow field to watch shooting stars.

Sitting on a quilt spread on the ground, we gazed up at the night sky glittering with stars that looked like they were about to fall any minute.

Emma: There's so many stars...it's really beautiful.

Sariel: Because of all the lights, it's difficult to see them clearly at court or in town.

Emma: I hope I get to see a shooting star.

While I was reading a book about constellations, Sariel had told me that there was a chance to see shooting stars during this time of the year when the sky's clear...

(I was so happy when you invited me out to go see them with you on Christmas)

I held out a bottle of alcohol that I had secretly hidden in the basket to Sariel.

Emma: Here's a small Christmas gift from me to you.

Sariel: Hehe, you're very transparent.

Emma: Did I really give it away?

Sariel: Yes. Even before we left court, I noticed you acting somewhat absent-minded and restless.

Emma: I can't hide anything from you, Sariel... I found this drink in town. I heard it's pretty rare and hope that it suits your palate.

Sariel: Thank you. Let's drink it together later. I have a present for you as well. Will you accept it?

Sariel smiled, his dark purple eyes narrowing, as he handed me a rectangular package from within his coat.

Emma: Thank you!

My heart pounded as I unwrapped his present and found that it contained a clear glass pen...

The delicate craftsmanship could be seen when held up against the lantern light. I was captivated by its beauty.

Emma: I've never seen a pen made from glass before...It's as sparkly as the stars in the sky tonight.

Sariel: I thought such an elegant tool would suit you so I had one made especially for you by a craftsman I know well.

Emma: Thank you so much. I'll cherish it forever.

Sariel gently caresses my cheek, lifted from happiness, with his fingers.

Then he took out two glasses and poured the alcohol before handing one with swishing light purple liquid to me.

Sariel: Now then, let's enjoy my present. Spending Christmas with you.

Emma: Sariel...

Sariel and I clinked our glasses and downed our drinks. The mellow sweetness slides down my throat with a hint of a burn.

Emma: It's really delicious.

Sariel: I agree. And it warms the body.

Emma: Achoo

I was about to reply when the cold air stung my nose and made me sneeze.

Sariel: Oh, are you cold?

Emma: A little...

Even my warm clothes and the alcohol couldn't defend me from the freezing cold, so I snuggled into my blanket.

Sariel: My, that's not good.

Sariel takes a drink from his glass before suddenly capturing my lips...

His tongue parts my lips and the alcohol flows in.

Emma: Nn...

Sariel: How are you now? Are you feeling a little warmer?

Emma: Y-yes...Um, I'm fine now.

(It wasn't just my throat, but my whole body heated up instantly...)

Sariel: Are you still cold here?

As he holds me down while nibbling my ear, Sariel's scent mixed with the alcohol hits my nose.

His tongue travels down my neck and my hips buck in response.

As he kisses my neck repeatedly, a tingling sensation forms in the pit of my stomach from the ticklish, tantalizing stimulation.

Sariel: You can see the night sky clearly from your current position. Are there shooting stars?

Emma: I don't...know...

I should be able to see the endlessly starry sky when I look over Sariel's shoulder, but I'm struggling to keep my eyes open because of the repeated sweet and tantalizing sensations.

Sariel: We came to look at shooting stars, so keep your eyes on the sky okay? I'll watch over you.

(I'm embarrassed, but my body's at its limit and Sariel seems to be enjoying my reaction...)

(I don't think I can wait for shooting stars anymore...so...)

Emma: Right now...I want Sariel more than shooting stars.

Sariel smiled and gently stroked my hair, as if he'd been waiting to hear those words.

Sariel: Then shall we return to court?

After being thoroughly exhausted from our lovemaking, I started dozing off in a comfortable weariness when Sariel gently puts his lips to my ear.

Sariel: I've had an invaluable Christmas... Let's go see shooting stars together again.

(Okay...promise...)

I answered in my mind and drifted off into a happy holy night dream.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #sariel noir #ikepri sariel #ikepri summary

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devilry-revelry · 4 days

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Riata | The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean

Summary: Two times the Ghoul used his lasso to wrangle Lucy MacLean, and one time she actually liked it.

Tags: Fallout Prime TV Series Spoilers (nothing huge, though), The Ghoul is his own warning, Lucy is a bit of a silly Gucy, older man x younger woman

Triggers: Hostage situation, abuse/torture

Lucy was thirsty. Very thirsty. So thirsty that it was overwhelming. So thirsty that it became real dang difficult to think of much else despite how desperately she tried to keep her mind busy. If she wasn’t being held hostage by a dastardly noseless man (she was), and still in the vault (she wasn’t), she would be able to commit herself to a number of things to keep her troubled mind occupied. She could go train; do her gymnastics, or her fighting, or go to shooting practice. She’d be able to brush up on the latest chapters being covered by the MacLean family book club, or prepare a lesson plan for an upcoming history class. Without her typical go-to’s, she had taken to mentally reciting lines from her favorite movies but it was getting harder and harder to focus. What should have been the opening lines from The Man and His Dog turned into her reviewing the symptoms of dehydration.

Dry mouth (check). Trembling (goodness, her hands wouldn’t stop quaking). Thirst (she was so thirsty). Her captor, the awful, awful man, made a bit of a game out of her predicament. He would mosey to a stop near decrepit, poisoned water sources and taunt Lucy.

“Bet yer thirsty, huh, sugar?” he’d drawl. “All this water and not a single drop for the poor little vaultie to drink.”

On some occasions he would go out of his way to splash the water source around. The ripples broke the greasy stagnation, made the water look a little less putrid, and more palatable. Sometimes the Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter would join in on the torment with a poignant click, click, click. On one occasion it prompted the undead-looking cowboy to release an alarming cackle that would have been befitting a movie villain. Dastardly, indeed.

The click, click, clicking, the endless taunting, and the relentless sun were a most formidable tag team and Lucy found her resolve breaking far sooner than she had expected. The water looked more like waste product than it did actual liquid. It was a puddle nestled in a questionable container, tucked away in the middle of some dilapidated buildings. She lamented not drinking from a broken toilet three stops ago. That water at least looked somewhat clean. Her knees gave way, nearly collapsing into the sand before she dipped trembling hands into the water and took big greedy gulps. It tasted sour and acrid; nothing like water. It left an oily coating in her throat that made her gag. Lucy swallowed down the sensation, desperate to keep it down.

Out of her periphery, the man had stooped down beside her. He looked disgustingly smug as Lucy met his eyes. He was alarmingly proficient with baiting her into getting angry, and getting her to take verbal snipes at him. Thankfully this particular back-and-forth was brief, as the noseless man was swept away in a coughing fit. During their travels, he had been incredibly stalwart in his management of her. He hadn’t let his guard down once; not even when he went to relieve himself – and to be honest, good for him, because Lucy had been more than prepared to make a grand escape attempt the second she heard his fly unzip.

The coughing overtook her captor, dragging him into a hacking, drooling mess. His guard was finally down and Lucy made a run for it.

By the time she reached the end of the block of destroyed houses she could still hear him wheezing for air. She took a hard turn down another sand-packed street, and performed a hood-slide just like the ones she had seen in some of her dad’s movies.

But then she saw the ditch; the fudging massive hole in the ground where there should have been more buildings, maybe a city, maybe people. It was a void in the earth and the sheer force of shock she felt upon seeing it slowed her progress to a complete stop. That’s when the rope appeared, dropping clean over her head before cinching up tight at her waist. Lucy didn’t even have enough time to be properly perplexed before she was yanked off her feet and tumbling butt over tea kettle through the sand.

Desperation kicked in. Lucy had been a good hostage. Though she admittedly could have tried harder at being amicable, she had been polite. She addressed him as sir when she spoke to him, and thanked him the one time he had let her go to relieve herself. All in all, this situation withstanding, she had been a dang good hostage – but not any more. His gnarled, mottled hands ended up near her face, one of the fingers dipping into her mouth as she screamed and struggled against the tight lasso. In a fit of rage, Lucy bit down with every ounce of force she could muster. She tasted salt, grainy sand, and then her mouth flooded with a wave of hot copper.

Lucy MacLean had bitten off her assailant’s finger. Beyond the surprise at her own ferocity, she expected him to lash out and maybe finally kill her but her captor didn’t even hint at the pain. If anything, he said something that could have maybe been praise…?

He still cut off her pointer finger, though.

The Mojave was hell on earth.

If Lucy could turn back time to when she was at the Santa Monica observatory, right to the exact moment when the Ghoul said, “You comin’?” she would make sure that she said no. Heck, she would make sure to say fuck no. There had been enough chasing down Hank MacLean to last her an entire lifetime. Quite frankly, her father wasn’t the man she had thought he was and chasing him across the desert just made her dislike him all the more. The only highlight to the excursion was that Lucy and Ghoul were on the same team; she wasn’t a hostage and the Ghoul had prepared for the journey. They had food and water, but they were forced to adhere to strict rationing. While they were able to hunt and forage for food, the nights they didn’t manage to find something were lean, and the thirst was constant.

On one day in particular, a handful of days into their trip, when the sun was at its zenith and being particularly brutal, Lucy’s throat started to chafe. There wasn’t enough moisture in her mouth to swallow and soothe the ache but out of habit she kept trying. It left her throat feeling grittier than sandpaper. After one particular attempt to swallow down the pain she nearly choked when it felt as if her throat had stopped working. Her pace slowed almost to a stop and her hand moved to cup her jugular.

Marching diligently a few feet away, the Ghoul whistled to get her attention just before tossing a small stone in her direction. Lucy managed to catch it, but only just barely. It was smaller than her palm, and close to the size of the old hard candy that Betty used to give the kids in the vault. The stone was brilliantly white on the edges with pockets and grooves tinged an earthy brown. This particular excursion with the Ghoul was significantly less hostile. The first couple of days were awkward, and strained, but Lucy soon grew comfortable in his presence. He was still a bit too rough-and tumble, and a little too prone to anger, but he had grown far more patient with her. The ghoul still liked to push her buttons though, getting a fair bit of amusement with getting her worked up. So when he tossed the rock at her, she was almost completely positive he had done it to see her flinch. Just as she was priming herself to make an exaggerated show of rolling her eyes and throwing it back at him, the Ghoul tossed a similarly size stone into his mouth.

“Go on,” he said, the rock tucked into his cheek. “It’ll help. Just mind those perdy teeth’a yers, princess.”

Though Lucy was skeptical, she plopped the pebble on to her dry tongue. It tasted like nothing at first, and then she began to salivate. It was salty, with tinges of something earthy, and carrying the grit of the Mojave sand. Groaning in relief, Lucy gulped down the precious moisture as it pooled in her mouth. The ache in her throat received a modicum of sweet relief.

“It stops workin’ after a while,” he continued on, giving her a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t do much for dehydration but it stops ya from breathing through your mouth.”

“Thank you so much,” Lucy said in earnest. She mustered enough energy to send him a thankful smile. “Where did you learn that?”

“Ol’ trick I learned back in boot camp.” After a beat of silence he added, “Don’t choke. Don’t think I won’t eat you if you die out here.”

Boot camp. Did that mean he had been with the Brotherhood of Steel? She knew better than to ask outright. The personal questions were usually what got him annoyed the fastest.

Lucy tucked the rock into her cheek, feeling the stone clack against her teeth. “One of these days I’m going to ask you everything I want to know about you, and you’re going to give me answers.”

“Sure, I’ll letcha know.”

“You will not.”

“No,” he agreed on a huffed breath, a small twitch of his lips belying his amusement. “I will not.”

“Because you like arguing, and getting a rise out of people?”

“People? Nah, sweetheart. Only you.”

They fell into a mutual silence, trudging onward through the sea of sand. The Ghoul was right. The pebble stopped assisting with saliva production maybe an hour later. The grating thirst returned, and it returned with a vengeance. If she could go back she would say no. If she could go back, she would return to her vault and have a luxurious shower and a hot meal. If she could go back—

There was a structure jutting out of the sand in the not-so-far distance. It shifted and flagged under the waves of the beating sun, but Lucy was almost completely sure she could make out the jutting slab of tin on the roof.

“Holy moly,” she rasped, slowing. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Can…” she didn’t like asking the Ghoul for favors. Didn’t like the idea of him seeing her as a weak link, but she was desperate for a break. “Can we stop there for the night?”

The ghoul had already changed trajectory, picking up his pace as he said, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Lucy tailed him, matching his pace and feeling a fresh kick of energy when they grew close enough to the shed to determine that it wasn’t just a mirage. She got a little ahead of herself then. Once it was confirmed that the structure was real she moved to a jog, and then an all out run. They found shade. They found shelter for the night. Through her excitement, and the sound of her own rampant breathing, Lucy could hear the Ghoul call out to her.

“Easy, darlin’. Let’s check it out first.”

While she could process that she had heard his voice, her sun-fried mind was unable to properly process the words. Running through the sand made her legs burn, her mouth was watering with exertion. They could have a fire for the night, a properly cooked meal! She could make out the shape of a door against the old wooden structure, and could see the way that sand had built up over the bottom of the frame.

The Ghoul called out again, his voice sharper, “Goddammit, Vaultie, slow down!”

But still, Lucy ran. When she reached the shack she stuttered to an uneven stop, reaching for the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled for all she was worth. The door resisted under the weight of built up sand, and so she pulled harder, throwing her weight into pulling the door open.

A bone-chilling hiss shot out from the shack, followed by something guttural and shrill. Something lunged from the dark of the shack,

“Lucy!”

All she could do was stare, even as she acknowledged the danger before her. Lucy was off balance after fighting with the door, and her mind couldn’t quite work out whether to right herself or make a run for it. The creature that emerged from the darkness was human once. It had been like the Ghoul once. The feral ghoul was much more gaunt than the others she had seen. Its bony fingers looked too much like claws, and the skin of its face was long gone, exposing skull and teeth. And she could do nothing else but watch as it came at her with both. Lucy closed her eyes as she braced for impact – and then something wrapped tight around her ribs, and she was being yanked backwards.

Lucy fell into the burning sand in a heap, her cry of surprise being washed out by the abrupt sound of a single gunshot. When she opened her eyes the dead feral ghoul was at her feet.

“Fucking hell, Lucy–”

“—I’m sorry—“

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

“—I just—“

“Just tryin’ t’get yerself killed?!”

“—no, no—“

The Ghoul drew breath to continue berating her but the wind suddenly vanished from his sails. His shoulders deflated. He closed his eyes, and huffed, “Fuck, girl.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, squinting up at him. The sand was far too hot to be laying in, but she was almost afraid to move. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking–”

She expected a short, angry rebuttal but all he did was cast a look about the desert. Then he looked at the dead feral. He gave a tug to the rope, it cinched tighter, digging into her skin and probably bruising. He moved past her and into the shack for a moment, then returned, holstering his weapon.

“Get in there and sit the fuck down,” he ordered.

They stayed in the shack for two nights before setting out again.

Upon getting to the other side of the Mojave, the Ghoul and Lucy ran face first into the wasteland’s golden rule: thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. Their trail had gone cold a month or two ago, and the duo had ended up involving themselves in an insurmountable amount of bullshit. The only real plus side was that there were more than enough caps coming their way, and it afforded them luxuries that Lucy once took for granted. They were able to secure room lodgings for days-long stays. They were able to afford bathing accommodations, warm food, and mostly clean water. Having a few creature comforts seemed to pull the Ghoul out of his perpetual state of fight-or-fight, but he seemed to grow even more protective of his vaultie.

Whenever they purchased lodgings they shared a room. The one time Lucy offered to buy a second room for a couple of nights he had adamantly refused. Despite having several meal options - different types, different locales - they still took every single one of their meals together. Some of their evenings felt downright domestic, and that suited Lucy just fine. The only problem was that the remnants of Nevada itched at her curiosities. Lucy wanted to go to the casinos to see, and play the games. Lucy wanted to learn the card game everyone and their sister was playing. Lucy wanted to go to the bar and try her first drink, she wanted to have dinner in the old restaurants and experience the community they were staying in. The Ghoul was very staunchly opposed, but Lucy couldn’t hold it against him. The area was apparently flush with slavers, and he obviously didn’t want to take any chances before they managed to figure out the next step in their journey…

But sometimes Lucy’s curiosity ran a little too rampant… Which was why she snuck out of their hotel room when the Ghoul was taking a bath.

The Ghoul had very begrudgingly agreed to treat Lucy to dinner down in the hotel restaurant. Lucy was jittery with excitement. During some of their more recent jobs she had found a lovely baby blue floral sundress, and she had been looking for a reason to wear it the second she tucked it away in her pack. Dinner would be the perfect opportunity. Lucy took her turn in the bathroom to get gussied up. She got washed and managed to coax a couple of lazy curls into her hair.

When she was finished, she exited the bathroom. The dress was a little worn, but it fit well. It tucked in close at the waist with a flattering boat neck. It was just a shame that she couldn’t find better shoes, and had to stick with her clunky worn traveling boots. The accessories were limited to her pistol and holster. The Ghoul gave her a brief once over, then pushed past her with a terse, “Gimme a minute.”

Lucy gave him maybe two minutes before she wrote him a note telling him that she would be waiting at the bar. After making it down the rickety stairs Lucy took the quickest of detours to the hotel’s game room. There were a couple of people milling about, sitting at slot machines and idly pushing buttons. She took in all of the colorful lights, the ringing bells, and the strange synthetic music, and then she went straight to the bar located in the restaurant area. The place was probably brilliant, once. Decked out in rich reds and opulent golds that had faded poorly.

Perching on one of the many vacant stools surrounding the bar, Lucy offered up her friendliest smile at the bartender and ordered a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. The woman had a kind face, but tired eyes. She set the bottle in front of Lucy, letting her keep the cap. The dining tables around the bar were sporadically filled, some people nursing drinks, others nursing plates of food. There was a little disappointment. She was expecting lively chatter and community, the room felt more like a ghost town. That is until the stool on her right became occupied despite the rest of the bar being open.

“This seat taken?” The man asked. He was rough-looking, with scars scattering up and down his neck and chin. He had dark short cropped hair and was adorned in miss matched armor. Despite his mean appearance, Lucy decided that his voice was kind.

She greeted him with a polite smile as she joked, “I guess it is now!”

There was no problem with sharing in some company until her date for the evening appeared, but the man’s friendly demeanor only put her on guard. The questions he asked were gently prying, asking where she was going and where she came from. Lucy politely skirted, silently acknowledging that there was a time not too long ago that she would have answered with a too open honesty. The Ghoul was to thank for her ability to acknowledge that even innocent questions could lead to dangerous ends.

But then in a matter of minutes her guard was down, because the man had pulled out a deck of playing cards, and had pulled the bartender in for a game of Caravan. Noticing Lucy’s interest, he offered to teach her how to play. Of course she accepted. The Ghoul was taking a while anyway, so what was the harm? The man and the bartender took turns explaining the set up, and then they dealt the cards. Lucy wasn’t sure when the man’s arm draped over her shoulder, and she wasn’t sure when the man had started sitting so close, but that was how the Ghoul found them.

“Well,” he said by way of greeting. His slow drawling voice immediately set Lucy on high alert. “Isn’t this just fuckin’ cozy?”

Lucy and her card partner glanced back. He snorted, “Easy, man. Plenty of other seats to choose from.”

The Ghoul shifted, kicking one of the legs of the stool. “That’s awfully funny, ‘cause I think I want this seat right here.”

There was danger in the Ghoul’s voice, an underlying threat. Sometimes it seemed like he leaned into the molasses in his voice to keep people off guard. Like if he let his accent thicken and his voice moved a little slower then people wouldn’t anticipate just how explosive his next move would be. Lucy cleared her throat, placing her cards face down. No one needed to die over something so mundane.

“Thank you both so much for trying to teach me, but I do believe I’m late for a dinner date with my friend here.” She turned on her stool and went to dismount just before the man grabbed her arm.

“You don’t have to go anywhere just because this ghoul doesn’t have any fucking manners—“

The Ghoul’s gloved hand shot out faster than lightning. He palmed the stranger’s head and slammed it down into the surface of the bar. It was done with so much force that the cards jumped and scattered. The stranger’s drink toppled and the glass shattered. The bartender back pedaled, holding her hands up in surrender though she looked deeply amused. Lucy hopped down from her seat and got between the Ghoul and the man before the violence escalated even further. As the man wailed his pain, curling in on himself and grasping his head, Lucy placed her hands on the Ghoul’s chest and gave him a gentle push backward.

“Hey,” she said earnestly. “Hey let’s go, huh? We can grab something to eat and go sit outside, or back to the room?”

“Fuck you, you fucking ghoul!” The man raged. “You fucking piece of shit—“

“You promised me dinner, remember? Come on, ignore him,” Lucy said softly, trying to keep her voice low and gentle. The Ghoul’s eyes lowered to Lucy. “Let’s go get something to eEEEEAT—“ in a move that was just as fast as his assault on the man, Lucy MacLean was picked up and tossed over the Ghoul’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he did a sharp pivot and marched away. “Hey! Hey, put me down!”

“Hush.”

“No! This isn’t fair!”

She griped and complained their whole way back to their room, and the Ghoul let her. He did not put her down again until they were in their room and the door was shut.

“What the fudge—“ no, no this time she needed the big guns. “What the fuck was that about? There was nothing happening, nothing untoward. They were just showing me a card game while I waited—“ he was moving across the room towards his bed where he kept his things, his back to her as she raged. “— and then you come in and just attack him?”

“He was sittin’ awfully goddamn close to just be showin’ you a game’a cards.”

“And that’s a crime?”

The Ghoul’s back was still facing her, but he had stopped rummaging through his pack. His posture straightened, but he did not look back towards her.

“And if he wanted somethin’ more from you, vaultie?”

“That—that isn’t a crime either! Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back downstairs.” She turned on her heel. She fumbled with the lock and pushed the door open. “Look, I don’t want to fight okay—“ she started into the hall just as that gosh dang honda knot dropped over her shoulders. It snapped shut at her waist and she was pulled backward. It wasn’t enough to send her careening to the ground, this wasn’t the violent wrangling she had received in the past, but it was enough to make Lucy stumble. For a moment she thought she was for sure going to land on her butt, but the Ghoul was suddenly behind her. She tumbled into his body and he secured her there with an arm around her waist. The door slammed shut and then she was being spun around, pushed up against it. “Sir—!” Lucy barely had the chance to process that there was a big gloved hand at her throat before the Ghoul was kissing her.

This kiss wasn’t like the kisses that she had shared with her husband. Those had been a little sloppy with her nervousness, and felt a little cold. Probably because that jerk Monty was planning to kill her. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet, chaste kisses she had shared with Maximus. The man was inexperienced but he tried in earnest; but there was just no time to learn and no time to teach.

This kiss was consuming. This kiss was claiming. This kiss was sensual in a way that Lucy had never experienced. The Ghoul took his time with her, kissing deep but all silken and slow. Gripping at the lapels of his duster, Lucy sighed. She would have leaned in closer if it weren’t for the hand at her throat. It wasn’t squeezing, merely holding her in place and keeping her at the Ghoul’s mercy. Aching heat pooled at her center as his tongue stoked against hers in a motion mimicking sex. He withdrew suddenly, marking his departure with a harsh nip to her lower lip.

“Ho—“ Lucy licked her lips, her eyes fluttering open. “Holy moly.”

“You don’t wanna fight,” the Ghoul said, his voice husky and low. His free hand reached to push her bangs away from her eyes. “So you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to let some fuckin’ asshole get they close to you again. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yep.”

Another nip — sharp and painful — quickly chased by a suckle at the afflicted sight, a swipe of the tongue. Criminy, it was good.

“And you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to leave this goddamn room without me again.”

“Uh-huh.”

The palm and pressure at her throat vanished, and his hands dipped to loosen the rope at her waist. He didn’t back away, keeping close and forcing her arms up so he could guide the lasso up over her chest, past her head— and then her wrists were pinned up against the door, pulled together by the rope, and secured by his hand. Lucy practically melted into a puddle of goo, becoming pliant and needy. It would appear that she was deeply interested in a partner who was dominant. How interesting. How good to know.

Lucy swallowed hard, then whispered, “But, um, maybe you should kiss me again, though? Just to make real dang sure I won’t argue… ” The ‘please’ hung on her lips.

The Ghoul’s mouth quirked slowly. “You want me to shut you up?” The hold on her wrists got a little firmer. He dragged his mouth over her jaw, then down along her neck. “I could shut you up good and proper, darlin’.”

Lucy’s mouth watered, she hummed her interest.

“But you’ve been bitching about me takin’ you to dinner, so we oughtta do that first.”

The Ghoul moved away from her in a blink, abandoning her near the door and directing his attention to re-wrapping his rope. Lucy blinked, trying to properly process what had just occurred. He tossed a glance in her direction, his eyes assessing her with wicked amusement. “You ready?”

Still breathless, a little confused, and way too dang warm, Lucy replied, “Okey-dokie.”

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