#the escapism is so real in both these series for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 2 months

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❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)

✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)

✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special

Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck, timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication.

You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—

Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started.

The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship.

Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel.

So the elephant remained.

“When did you—“

“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,”

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“

“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“

And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his.

“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,”

And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties.

“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.

“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him.

“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?”

~~~

You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap.

But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted.

And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real.

It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.

He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands.

And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?”

You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,”

And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment.

“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,”

“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?”

“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?”

“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle.

“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,”

“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,”

And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause.

“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?”

“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?”

And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?”

“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start—

“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.”

~~~

“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“

“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,”

His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize—

You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all.

You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough.

“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?”

“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl.

“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,”

“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“

And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat.

“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly.

Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“

And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,”

He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.

“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his.

He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,”

His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention.

“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,”

He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,”

And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,”

“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering.

His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls.

You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers.

You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers.

You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,”

And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,”

He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan.

“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and he smirks.

“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,”

“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss.

And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,”

“Suguru—“

“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?”

And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?”

He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,”

He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,”

“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—”

“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?”

And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors.

“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm.

His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“

“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again.

“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back.

“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away.

“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,”

“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—”

His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.”

~~~

RING. RING. RING.

Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again?

A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams.

But then….why did it smell like him?

“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you.

“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest.

You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?”

“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,”

“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck.

“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?”

“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“

And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—

“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.”

~~~

Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now.

There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want.

Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you.

You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead.

“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books.

He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure.

“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,”

And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you.

He bit his lip, it was working.

Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw.

“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,”

“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?”

“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,”

“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo.

“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,”

“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,”

“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever.

And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to.

“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips.

“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile.

“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?”

Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?”

~~~~

Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet?

You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream.

It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—

You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.

No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body,

You had a better idea.

~~~

“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“

And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward.

You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could—

Fuck.

“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,”

Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice).

But it was as if the dam had broken, the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood.

Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you.

“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath.

“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,”

“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps.

He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,”

“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat.

And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features.

“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?”

And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here.

You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips, “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?”

His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.”

Because now you both had plenty of those.

~~~

“Where are we going?”

Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly.

His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms.

After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm.

“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have.

It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better.

Because now you could do this.

Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?”

You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?”

“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,”

You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,”

He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,”

“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there.

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives.

You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.”

~~~

“Is the blindfold necessary?”

“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?”

“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore.

“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,”

The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,”

“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,”

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?”

“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before.

“Funny, I thought I already was.”

~~~~

“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you.

“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back.

“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,”

“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—”

“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close.

God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate.

“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean.

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,”

“And what’s so perfect about it?”

“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,”

“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,”

“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?”

“Princess—“

“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“

“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,”

“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.”

~~~

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over.

“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased.

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?”

“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.”

“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”

You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,”

“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved.

“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him.

He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his.

“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,”

“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.

“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.”

Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek.

“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?”

~~~~

“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru.

He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter.

But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it.

“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you.

This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him.

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,”

“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl.

“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,”

“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.

“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,”

You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?”

He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.

“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“

And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,”

He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?”

Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.”

~~~

“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?”

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different.

“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?”

He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?”

“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,”

“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers.

“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”

“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,”

“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,”

“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin.

“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close.

His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.”

~~~

“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,”

His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle.

“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips.

“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,”

“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,”

“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—”

And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to say it back—”

“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,”

He smirks, “A long time?”

“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,”

“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips.

“What is it?”

“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,”

“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”

“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,”

“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—”

“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,”

“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?”

~~~

“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,”

“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?”

“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,”

“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest.

The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,” your walls flutter around his dick.

“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,”

He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside.

He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?”

You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,”

“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges.

You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,”

He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.”

~~~

“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,”

“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—”

You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—”

He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,”

You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words.

“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,”

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—”

“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?”

“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,”

He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,”

You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever.

“It won’t be — not for long.”

~~~~

“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket.

“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,”

He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis.

You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name.

“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?”

Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”

“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails.

“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,”

And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”

It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right.

And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart.

And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend.

“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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jksian · 3 months

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02 - You up? (m)

"Shut up and ride me, yeah?"

pairing: best friend Jungkook x inexperienced reader

genre: fwb, f2l, smut, angst and fluff

w/c: 3.8k

warning: phew well... teasing, netflix and chill y'k?, mentions of his tattooes, mentioned about the movie 'after' for once, mention of infidelity (I mean Jk's ex!), mention of a threesome🙊,overstimulation, fingering, sucking, reverse cowgirl oops, protected sex (jk uses protection, jk is smart, be like jk), marking, cum play?, use of vibrator👀, ✨SQUIRTING✨, everything is very wet wet, praises and kisses😍, intimacy!!!, crying (out of pleasure), little argument, JK is a soft dom because soft!dom supremacy!! and that's it, I think, also it's not edited!

a/n: okay so, I have found a very similar video of there first smut scene here, when he was fingering her. I wanted to share it with you guys. I was hesitant at first but with all of your votes being positive, I have the courage to do it, I think.

| Series masterlist | Masterlist |

When Jungkook asked you to hang out with him, you knew how it was going to be.

You under him, or in some cases, him under you.

In both cases, his dick would be buried deep inside of you.

When you got the massage ‘you up?’ it was inevitable what was the intention behind that. Still, your oblivious self made you sit here on his bed and scroll through hundreds of series in Netflix to choose which one to watch. You liked to make yourself dumb and naïve intentionally.

Ignorance is pure bliss. Indeed.

It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you to found Jungkook’s hand caressing your naked thighs as his hands soon travels all over your exposed skin, before they found their shelter in between your legs.

Classic Netflix and chill version.

At first, it was just an ordinary evening where two friends hang out and watch some movies together, but your relationship with Jungkook wasn’t ordinary. What kind of relationship you had with him, anyways? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Situation ship?

Nah. You both made it clear that you guys will remain friends no matter what, even though you heart wanted something more than that, you buried that desire deep inside of your head.

The movie ‘after’ played in his laptop, as you made yourself comfortable and took a seat in-between his legs, leaning your back on his chest.

Everything was good until the male protagonist started eating the female protagonist out in the movie, that scene made you shift uncomfortably in his hold.

Jungkook’s hand, which was rested on your thighs previously started rubbing soothing circle there, his face too close to your neck, almost nestling in it.

You breath hitched when his hands travelled up towards your torso, lifting your shirt a little to feel the soft skin there.

You whimpered a little, unexpectedly, when he twisted your nipple in between his fingers, rolling and squeezing the soft flesh and ravishing in the euphoric feeling.

He always loved your tits. Even though they were not as huge as every other boy fantasized about, they were enough. They were real. Whenever you expressed your slight insecurity about them, he was quick to comfort you, complementing about their shapes and how soft and perfect they were or how they always brought comfort to him. You found the later one, quite odd.

“What are you doing–,” Your voice was faint, merely able to held back the moan before it escaped from your throat because of the luscious touches of him.

He chuckled at your innocence or better, false innocence and brought your body closer to him, “Just want to touch you, may I?” His lips brushed against your earlobe before gently sucked on it.

You felt arousal coming out and ruining your panties further. The damage was already done, nothing to do about that.

You nodded and he didn’t waste any time and lifted your shirt up until your tits came to his vision, made it harder for the men behind you to breath.

One of his hand sneaking its way into your shorts, flickering your sensitive bud over your panties.

“W-we were supposed to watch the movie.” You cleared your throat and tried to act nonchalant but the quaver in your voice indicated otherwise.

He chuckled again, knowing very well the effect he had on you. “Is that so? But, I want you –,” He turned your face towards him, with his dark yet full of stars in his eyes, stared right back at you, “Now.”

His eyes flickered to your lips as his own tongue swiped over his lower one, licking your lips in the process before going back to your eyes.

You felt overwhelmed, with the amount of intensity he held in his eyes, at the way he touched you with his hands. Sinistery yet heavenly.

His lips crashed on yours, lips moving in sync, like they were made for each other, made to kiss and fold like this for forever.

You lips reminds him of the delicate caresses of a brush on canvas, where vibrant hues adorn the surface, creating it as beautiful and whole.

His fingers kept on pinching your nipples and massaging your tits at the same time. You couldn’t help but whimper in his hold, turning your face to moan which you were holding back. “Look at that, how wet you are.”

He whispered into your ear, warm breath hitting the side of your face as he started kissing your jawline, making his way to your neck. Alternating between kissing and gently sucking, he ensured that by the end, your body was adorned with an array of colors, colors of him, creating a vivid and captivating masterpiece.

“You’ve been grinding against me, so, isn’t it obvious?” Futile attempt to be sassy at that moment, especially when you couldn’t help but moan at every flicker of his finger on your clit.

“So you’re admitting it that I made you this wet, hmm?” You could see the cocky smile on his face even though your eyes were shut from the pleaser he was giving you.

Jungkook was good at many things but, knew it even better when it comes to using his fingers on you. He was familiar with your body as if it were the back of his hand.

He instructed you to lift your hips and pulled of your shorts along with your panties.

You heard him cursed under his breath when you spread your legs wide for him, gave him a glimpses of your glistening pussy.

He moaned into your neck when his finger slipped easily into your pussy, feeling more of your essence leaking on his finger. Your drenched pussy stuffed with his finger, “You’ve got a pretty little cunt, baby.”

The way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing, but you didn’t care the slightest and let the moans out freely.

Your eyes rolled back when he started pumping his finger without any mercy, your cunt clenched around his thick fingers adorned in various tattoos, stretching you out perfectly.

He groaned breathily into your ear at the squelching sounds, echoing through out his room. Your rested on his shoulder, eyes shut from the overwhelming sensation when he curled his fingers and hit the right spot.

“Oh fuck! K-keep going please –,” You pleaded, voice cracked as you weren’t even able to form a complete sentence.

“Please what, baby?” He still had time to tease when you were squirming and twisting under his hold, you wanted to smack him hard on his head but you decided to play it smart. Because, getting your release was more important than letting your ego win, especially when the men was so hot and called you ‘baby’. Wait…does he called you baby?

“Stop teasing and let me cum, Kook.” The way you called him that… should be illegal. You knew how he liked being called ‘kook’ and you used that to your advantage.

He grumbled and thrusted his fingers along with his thumb on your clit, giving hard flicks on the bundle of nerves, made your legs tremble.

“oh fuck –,” you moaned, biting on your bottom lip as your hips thrusted upwards on its own, chasing your release.

Your slick dripped down your thighs as you held onto Jungkook’s shoulder for your dear life, wrinkling up his t-shirt in your tight grasp.

“You look so fucking pretty when you cum, y’k?” He smirked at you and you just returned a glare before closing your eyes again and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him moving and when you looked around and saw him reaching down to the nightstand beside his bed and pulled out a condom along with something like…hold on!... Is that–

“Jungkook! What the fuck?” The disbelief in your eyes made him smirk even more, he found amusement in your little gasp, “Saved it for special occasions.” He said while grinning at his supposed comedic statement.

“Special occasions? Since when you had a vibrator with you?” You gave him a hard glare which was supposed to indicate that you were pissed but he laughed at that. He fuckin’ laughed.

“Bought it because, I thought…,” He moved his fingers, the same ones which was buried deep into your cunt and still had your cum on it, brushed it over your lower lip, “You’d like it.” Then shoved the same finger into his mouth.

He was a fucking maniac for moaning around his own fingers, as if he was tasting world’s most delicious food or something. The fingers came out of his mouth, coated with his saliva this time.

The slow buzz of the vibrator behind you made you shiver in his hold, you felt his hands on your hips, slowly dragging them up and down until he reached your ass. Squeezing your ass cheeks firmly, he landed a slap on it out of the blue and it made you squeal on his lap.

Leaning forward, Jungkook again, started peppering kisses on your back, sucking on any area he can and licking it afterwards as he continued, made your breath hitched.

His lips were irresistible. He was irresistible. As much as you hate to admit it, it was the truth. Even though, he was your best friend and you guys were on the strict rule of FWB, The men sucking on your skin made you this wet like no one else and made you feel things you’ve never felt for anyone before.

It was dangerous whatever it was happening between you two. You knew it but, does it made you stop? No.

The way you shameless let out the loudest moan when he brought that cute little pink magic wand to your clit, made you slap your hand on your mouth and your legs to shut immediately.

His hardness was poking on your lower back, he was in his boxer so it was easy to feel it through the thin layer of clothing. He remove the vibrator and in an instant, you shifted onto his lap properly, this time your pussy directly on his cock which made him gasped and groaned. The sounds he made was enough to grew the ache in between your legs, it made you needier for any kind of touch he could gave you.

Your slickness dripped on his clothed cock from your bare pussy as you grind on it. He shut his eyes from the feeling of it, you felt him twitching.

“Fuck. Wait– baby, you planning on making me cum in my pants?” He chuckled breathily, pupils dilated with sheer lust as he said, “Let me take off my boxers.”

You shifted of his lap before he took it off. The idea of making him cum in his pants was arousing, you smiled as said while turning around to look at him, “Not a bad idea, though.”

You received a smack on your ass again along with the sound of his sweet chuckle. “Shut up and ride me, yeah?”

That considered yet dominating tone of his voice made your heart swell and your pussy clenched. The fact that he was making sure to made you feel comfortable, if you wanted the same thing or not even though it was the thing he wanted was appreciating. You knew, if you told him no and stopped, he wouldn’t even question you.

You smiled in return and kissed him, cupping his face while leaning on his shoulder, your back pressed against his chest and his cock brushed against your entrance, this time bare, direct skin to skin. It was enough to made you go crazy.

He squeezed your boobs and aligned his member at your entrance. Moaning into his mouth, you glided down on his length and took him in one-go.

He moaned along with you. Before you could start moving, he brought the vibrator to your clit and set it at the lowest mode but that was enough stimulation for you to roll your hips.

Jungkook held your waist, guided you on his cock while keeping the vibrator on your clit steadily.

“Yeah baby, ride it like that. Make yourself come on my cock.” He said through gritted teeth, groaning under his breath every time you thrust back on him. His other hand pressed lightly on your lower belly where his bulge can be seen while he increased the speed of the vibrator a bit higher. Your thighs shakes from the overstimulation, tears formed in your eyes and your moans were uncontrollable.

“Fuck fuck, gonn– c-come,” You cried out, tears now freely running down your flushed cheeks, the squelching sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room.

“Shit, hold it for me.” You thrusts were becoming erratic, upon knowing that Jungkook immediately handed over the vibrator to you and held you by your waist, started thrusting back at you.

He lay down on the mattress, seeing how his cock disappeared inside you and reappeared made him twitch violently, “Yes baby, that’s it. You feels so fucking good,” He groaned.

His praises made you clenched around him, moaning from the pure pleasure, you throw your head back. Even though, the vibrator was making you overstimulate, you couldn’t brought yourself to remove it. Nails digging on his hand, leaving marks for him to remember just like the bruises which will be prominent on your waist later, because of the dead grip of his.

He was rougher than before, slamming into you without a care in the world, “Fuck, I can see everything from here, how your pussy is swallowing my cock, baby. S-shit –,” He didn’t missed a chance to hit that perfect spot inside of you, abusing it to the point that your walls spasm and you squirt all over his cock and the bed sheet beneath you.

Tears stream down your cheeks from the intense pleasure in your core, your whole body shakes, you immediately removed the toy from you but Jungkook never stopped, constantly slammed back at you.

“Fuck, J-jungkook,” More spurs of liquids gushes out of you every time his cock came out of you. You couldn’t handle the pleasure as your body gave out and you leaned back on his chest. He still continued while holding onto you.

“Oh fuck–,” Jungkook moaned, never stopping his movements. The way you squirt, the hot liquid coated his cock, how your drenched pussy felt so good was overwhelming for him. You made him overwhelmed.

“I-I’m coming –,” You shrieked, pussy gripping his cock almost painfully. Jungkook couldn’t think straight as your warm walls engulf his member completely.

“Come on, come for me, baby.” Your vision got blurry, the harsh thrusts and the overstimulation was too much for you. You moans choked out from your throat, you almost let out a scream but restrained yourself for the sake of his neighbors.

With a last thrust, he finally came. His eyes rolled back as he dick restlessly twitches inside of you before he spiller his seeds inside the condom.

He slides out of you and your come oozed out of you, your body fall on top of him and he held you close to his chest. You could heard the soft beating of his heart, his slightly harsh breaths as he tried to recover from the intense session you two just shared.

You both lay down there in silent, hearing each other breaths and just…held onto each other like that in an intimate way.

Jungkook shifted in his place as he held onto you gently, carefully, not wanting to hurt you by any means as he places you beside him.

Your eyes were still closed when he cupped your face in his hands, when you finally looked at him you saw him staring back at you with his usual wide doe eyes. He didn’t said anything at first, just stared at you with something in his eyes you couldn’t decipher before he spoke, “Are you okay?”

His voice was as soft as his touches, there was slight hint of concern in his tone. This little things was the reason behind your growing feeling for him.

How caring and considerate he was with you, how he treated you as if he wanted you. Yes, he does wanted you but not in the way you wanted him. He was the first one to comfort you, he was always there for you. As a friends, he was perfect. And, as a boyfriend, he would be definitely better than your ex.

You smiled at him, “Yes, I’m absolutely okay.” You said that rather enthusiastically, making him chuckled in the process. He gave you a kiss on your forehead before despairing into his bathroom.

You thought, how it might be if you could tell him about the things you felt for him. It all started after he got cheated on by his ex.

He was devastated after that. You still remember the day when he cried in front of you. Jungkook was someone who wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions through words nor liked crying in front of others. So, when he did, you could imagine how hurt he might had been at that moment.

Still, he gave her some time and came with an agreement that they both just needed space to figure out what they both wanted. Bullshit.

You never liked that idea. She literally cheated on him, even though she was kissing another girl on the lips, it still considered as cheating. Still, you supported Jungkook, because that’s what friends do.

Your chain of thoughts broke as Jungkook entered his room with a wet towel in his hand and a glass of water. You took it out of his hand and gulp down the water but he didn’t gave you the towel. He always does that, wiping your essence off of you every time. You stopped with your futile attempts of you can do that yourself long ago.

“Wait, let me take a shower.” You didn’t said anything, it was strange. Aftercare was important for him, you knew it. Usually, you two shower together or cuddled up on the bed, but, this time, he went alone. You found that odd before your focus shifted towards his phone.

The sound of a notification made your face turned towards the litted up screen. You scooted over it and the thing you saw made your blood boiled for unknown reasons.

You saw a notification from his ex-girlfriend. They weren’t in the talking situation so, why he got notifications from her. The suspicion and bitterness got the best of you and you quickly dressed to leave his apartment.

Just as you were about to head outside, he barged out of the bathroom, halting his movements for a second by your form standing in front of his door to leave, the automatic pout came onto his face out of confusion, he spoke, “Where are you going? Wait– why are you leaving?”

His brows pinched together a frown settled on his face, “Is everything okay?” There was seriousness in his voice. He tried to came closer but, he noticed the hesitation in your movements so he backed up, didn’t wanted to made you uncomfortable.

“I – just have something’s to do.” You lied, voice came out in an whisper as if you didn’t had any strength left in your body. Nothing wrong there, fucking Jungkook always made your body exhausted afterwards, but, your heart always felt content. Not this time.

Even if he sensed your lie, he didn’t question you. “Then, let me drop you there at least,” He went to grab his keys before you stopped him in the track.

“Do your still talk with Sana?” There was a few seconds of silence, not a sound of footsteps or even breathing. Utter silent. You heart beats increased with every second, holding onto your handbag, you waited for his reply.

“No… but, she followed me on Instagram yesterday.” He told you the truth, never wanted to lie to you. He just didn’t knew why he made this thing a secret. Not a secret, he just didn’t priorities it enough to discussed this with you.

“And?”

“And, I followed her back, then she sent a massage.” He said that so casually as if he was talking about a random person. It wasn’t any random person.

You turned around and looked at him. You didn’t understood why you felt a stinging pain in your heart when you saw him standing there oblivious. There was a slight worriedness in his eyes.

“Jungkook…I don’t know what you were thinking but…why didn’t you tell me? Also, why are you talking to your ex?” Okay, not so smart question. You did admitted that. That’s his life, he could talk to anyone he wants, so asking him why he did that was stupid.

Still, he tried to explain, “I– sorry, I should’ve said this before, but I thought it wasn’t much important to discuss about,”

“Wasn’t much important to discuss with me, right?”

“What? No! ____, It’s not what you’re thinking –,”

“Then, what is it? Jungkook, she cheated on you –,” Those words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. You wished you didn’t said that because the way his eyes went wide and glossy, made your heart hurt.

“Lets not come to an conclusion yet, she said she need some time and I gave her that. Also, she did that after…her last encounter with us.” This time, you gasped. He was talking about the threesome you guys had a month ago before their break up.

It was a casual thing between the three of you, all of you gave your own concerns, all three of you wanted that. Now, why he brought that topic into this argument. The conclusion was far more worse. You brain immediately responded with he thinks she cheated on him because of me.

His ex wanted to explore her sexuality after her encounter with you during the threesome. It all came clear in your mind.

“Are you implying that…she cheated on you because of me?” Your voice slightly cracked at the end of the sentence and you cringed. Not wanting to stay even a second there, you barged out of his room without looking back.

“No no, ____ , listen. I never blamed you– fuck! I could never do that, baby.” He grabbed you arm, tried to calm you down. “Please, don’t misunderstood me.”

His voice held so much vulnerability, panic rushed over his eyes. You couldn’t brought yourself to look at him, because if you did, you would mold back into his arms instantly and you couldn’t let that happen.

He kept on pleading to you, standing at the doorway and you. You huffed at his stubbornness, “Jungkook, please I have to go, now. We can talk about this later.” You again lied.

Jungkook wouldn’t wanted to disrespect your decision or invade your personal space, he backed away from the door. He couldn't understand outburst but he did knew that you never liked it when someone hide something from you. he knew, he made you upset which he never wanted.

You could see his glistening eyes staring right at you, his brows furrowed as he kept on looking at you until you departed from his apartment.

Your tears, unrestrained, finally flowed freely, unable to be held back any longer.

#jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook oneshot #jungkook #fic: yes or no?#jksian🤍#bts

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metalandmagi · 9 months

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Romance Anime Starter List

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick and tired of seeing “Top ___ Best Anime of All Time” lists that are nothing but shounen. So, with "My Happy Marriage" getting a little attention from the anime community, I wanted to put together a list of some romance anime that I consider good “starters” for the genre. Because if I were just now becoming an anime fan, I’d think all there was to offer was shounen action series.

And by “starters” I mean basic stuff that’s not too…out there, and actually involves the characters getting together instead of just harems or using romance as a side plot (sorry Ouran High School Host Club and My Next Life as a Villainess).

So if you’re new to anime and want stuff that’s not just guys beating the shit out of each other (which is also fun, don’t get me wrong), here are some basics.

Taisho Maiden Fairy Tale- When the pessimistic Tamahiko Shima loses all function in his right arm, his family sends him away to live in the mountains with the cheerful, hard working Yuzuki Tachibana…who was purchased by the Shima family to pay off her family’s debts and basically act as a caretaker/future bride for Tamahiko so they’d never have to deal with him again. It’s a more cheerful version of My Happy Marriage (without the supernatural stuff), except in this one, the guy is the one who has massive self-esteem issues and an abusive family. There are still very serious themes, but ultimately it’s not meant to make you cry every episode. I swear it’s so good, but nobody watched it!

Horimiya- A slice of life in which pretty and popular high school queen bee Hori, finds out her quiet, unassuming classmate Miyamura is hiding piercings and tattoos that could get him expelled. The two gradually find out more about each other and get together in the most realistic way I’ve seen depicted in an anime. It’s also fucking hysterical and genuinely emotional.

Recovery of an MMO Junkie- Another slice of life that focuses on two adults who meet in an MMO game without realizing they also know each other in real life. I don’t want to say much more than that. It’s adorable, and the main character is so relatable it hurts.

Love with Yamada-kun at Level 999- Speaking of MMOs, this is a newer series about Akane Kinoshita, a college first year who’s reeling from a bad break up. In an attempt to get back at her ex, she winds up meeting Akito Yamada, a popular gamer who happens to be in her guild in the MMO they both play at an IRL meetup. The two go from acquaintances to something more as they keep running into each other. Even more relatable main characters and just wholesome relationships all around.

Snow White With The Red Hair- A fantasy in which an apothecary named Shirayuki (meaning, you guessed it, “snow white”) runs away from her home in order to escape becoming the concubine of her town’s prince. While fleeing, she is rescued by Zen, the prince of a neighboring country, and she ends up becoming an herbalist to repay him. It's super cute with some genuinely swoon worthy moments and a couple that just works so well together. I have a habit of comparing this to Akatsuki no Yona, even though the two aren’t really that alike. This is more romance driven while Akatsuki no Yona is more of a serious historical fantasy with romance elements (Yona manga is amazing, but the anime barely scratches the surface, so that’s why I didn’t include it).

Sasaki to Miyano- When the shy, easily flustered Miyano meets Sasaki, a cool “delinquent” upperclassmen, the two end up bonding over manga…specifically BL manga. That’s right, Miyano is a fudanshi, but due to his small stature and somewhat feminine appearance, he’s constantly trying to convince others that he’s not interested in having his own love story where he’d be reduced to a stereotypical doe-eyed uke. But as Sasaki and Miyano spend more time together, they realize that what they have is more than friendship, and they have to come to terms with their own perception of gay relationships. This is my favorite romance of all time. It’s a slow burn, but boy is it worth it. Their relationship is so natural and realistic, just like Horimiya. Just two people hanging out and bonding over things the way people do in real life!

Given: The story of some boys in a band with trauma. Enough said. It's great. Go watch it.

Bloom Into You- Yuu Koito is a high school girl who’s been waiting her whole life for her own perfect romance to start…but when she receives a confession, she realizes she doesn’t know how to respond when she’s just not into the guy. And then she gets another confession…this time from the cool student council president Touko Nanami, who basically jumpstarts her lesbian awakening. Very cute story about how we perceive the concept of love vs actually feeling it. Also has a canonically aro/ace side character, so that’s a win for me. Another show like this is Adachi to Shimamura (but I honestly don’t remember much about it. It just didn’t stick with me as much).

Ore Monogatari- Takeo Gouda is a tall, bulky high school first year with a sensitive heart of gold. He wants nothing more than to find his own true love, but most girls are intimidated by his enormous stature, and they end up falling for his conventionally attractive friend instead. That is, until he meets the tiny, adorable Rinko Yamato. He falls in love instantly, but he’s sure she’s interested in his best friend like everyone else, so he vows to help get them together, even though his heart is breaking. Peak himbo behavior. Pure of heart, dumb of ass.

Yuri on Ice- Yes it’s the gay figure skating anime everyone knows. And yes it’s a fucking romance, okay? I will die on this hill. The romance between Viktor and Yuri is just as important as the plot!

Kaguya-sama Love Is War- Two insanely smart high school students both have a crush on the other, but since they’re…you know…high schoolers, neither of them wants to admit it first. So they come up with increasingly convoluted plans to get the other to confess first. This will go down as one of the best of all time. It’s a hilarious yet poignant modern classic.

Fruits Basket- I’ve talked about it before and I’ll talk about it again. A romance “comedy” that slowly morphs into a drama about a girl named Tohru who finds herself living with the mysterious Sohma family after her mother dies. Little does she know, the Sohmas are the victims of a (somewhat silly, but ultimately tragic) curse that she must fight to break. Even though I’m more into it for the family drama, the romance is still top tier and plays an important role in the story. This is my second favorite anime of all time, and it’s a classic for a reason. If anyone hasn’t watched it yet, GO WATCH IT! IT WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS!

And now for some honorable mentions that didn't quite fit into the regular list:

Ride Your Wave- A movie about a surfer who falls in love with a firefighter……and I’m not going to say any more than that. Go into it blind. If you like stuff like Your Name, this is a good one to watch.

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun- A comedy about a high school girl who finds out the upperclassman she has a crush on is actually a shoujo manga artist, and no matter how she tries to confess to him, he just never gets it.

The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague- A slow burn slice of life that focuses on a guy with ice powers who has a crush on his coworker. That’s it. That’s the show. When I say slow, I mean SLOW. It’s perfectly cute and fluffy, but my god does it take forever to get anywhere with these two.

Skip to Loafer- A high strung, small town girl decides to go to high school in Tokyo, where she meets a variety of classmates, including the laid back Sousuke Shima. The unlikely pair become friends, and soon enough, she starts to feel something more than friendship. The only reason I didn’t include it in the main list is because they don’t get together by the end of the first season, but it’s still really cute (also canonically trans character for the win!?)

So that’s my starter list. And no, I didn’t include Toradora, even though it’s a classic. I know it’s blasphemous, but I like it more as a comedy than a romance. It kinda lost me with the ending. But anyway, maybe someone will find something they like. Or maybe you'll just want to roast me and my picks 😅

#yuri on ice #kaguya sama: love is war #fruits basket #ore monogatari #bloom into you #sasaki to miyano #snow white with the red hair #yamada kun to lv999 no koi wo suru #horimiya #recovery of an mmo junkie #taisho maiden fairy tale #skip to loafer #unfortunately not much bl or gl since a lot that I've seen is too...out there for this list...#now bl manga on the other hand...#why did i make this lol?#because i finally got to the confession scene in akatsuki no yona of course and now i'm dead #I kinda want to include doukyuusei too but it's just a little bit steamier than what I was going for with this 😅

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forbidden-sunlight · 10 days

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yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part one]

warnings: suicide attempt/implication, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

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Hey guys, and welcome to another original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa. This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl and @witch-of-the-writing-desk for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project.

Everyone has heard or watched the famous daily drama, Love and Fortune. Boasting over 124 episodes, it chronicles the romance between a cold-hearted CEO named Yeo Jung-Hwa and a hardworking, kind-hearted employee at his family’s conglomerate named Hyeong Mun-Hee. Of course, no drama is without conflict because that would be a very boring story to broadcast to the world.

Including the male lead’s family opposing the idea that would marry someone beneath his social status, the villainous Park Seo-yun refuses to break off her engagement to him even when her feelings are completely one-sided. In retrospect, Park Seo-yun had been written as a vicious and incredibly stupid antagonist so that Heyong Mun-Hee’s perseverance through such bullying and her devotion towards Yeo Jung-Hwa were highlighted and touched the viewers with her kind heart. At least that is what you believe after being trapped in the world of this drama for…how long has it been? A year? Three years?

It was hard to keep track of time when Being X - that’s the name you gave to whatever is controlling this world like a goddamned puppeteer - would reset everything if you tried to act out of character such as amiably breaking up with male lead so he could be with Hyeong Mun-Hee or trying to overdose on sleeping meds in a desperate attempt to escape. Presently this was your fourth loop, and you were not going to let everything, the hard work you’ve put in, to be all for nothing.

You were going to move forward.

You were going to survive.

You were going to have a peaceful life once this drama is over.

Just say your lines and be ready for the next scene. Right?

According to the drama’s script, the reason that Park Seo-yun worked for the Yeo family’s conglomerate is because everyone thought it would be a brilliant idea for her to see how the business of her future in-laws operated and be prepared to step in if Yeo Jung-Hwa was incapacitated for any reason. In your humble opinion, it is honestly a bad idea for two reasons. One, it isn’t wise to mix business with a marriage, let alone an engagement that is written to be destroyed upon the arrival of the female lead. Two, it just doesn't make sense. Prosperous businesses are supposed to have a qualified Chief Operating Officer, otherwise known as a COO, to implement plans and the direction that the CEO wishes to follow as well as coordinating with other team managers.

But this is common sense from the real world. You are stuck in a drama and currently the team manager of the conglomerate’s financial department. You might have a nice office in the back where you can see everything, but it barely alleviated your annoyance with Hyung Mun-Hee as she hunched over her desk, texting on her personal phone instead of correcting the mistakes she made on the documents you were supposed to hand out to everyone at today’s meeting; budget allocations, projected growths and downturns, including whether Team Leader Dokja Kim will be able to hire a few more employees that he really needs to help with the IT department’s neverending workflow.

You know that this is a pivotal scene in both Heyong Mun-Hee’s character development and the beginning of your downfall. You know that after accusing the female lead of slacking off, forcing her to kneel and apologize for paralyzing your department because everyone worked overtime to cover her unexcused absences, this is when the male lead steps in and protects his darling from being bullied further.

To the writers of Love and Fortune: this example of lazy creativity is why your successful series eventually received backlash and everyone demanded a revamped version. In layman’s terms, fuck you assholes for making your job as the villainess a lot more difficult than it should be.

You already made her kneel and all that jazz in the last two loops and it didn’t do shit. Not this time. You were going to go for a more subtle, professional approach. As long as it seems like you were antagonizing Hyung Mun-Hee because Love and Fortune is written from her point of view, you should be fine. Hopefully. God, you hoped so.

If you actually got through this scene, you were definitely going to reward the team for their hard work with some baked goods for breakfast or a catered lunch. You haven’t used your infamous black credit card since this loop started. Rolling your shoulders back, you inhaled a slow, deep breath before leaning over towards the printer, grabbing the documents that the female lead emailed to you. You pretended to read them over, eyes narrowing and fingers thumbing through all of them until you reached the end. Rising from your seat, you walked out of the office and addressed the staff, calmly.

“Excuse me everyone, but may I have a moment of your time?” Your slightly agitated voice caused all seven team members to stare at you with faces that ranged from confusion, fear, and curiosity. You respectfully incline your head. “Thank you.” You held up your little prop in the air for all to see. “Whoever emailed me the paperwork I am to present at this afternoon’s meeting, please come to my office. I have some questions about the context.”

An uneasy silence fell upon the office, making your heart stink. Shit. You needed to improvise and fast before Being X noticed. You sighed, pressing two fingers to the side of your temple to make it seem like you were starting to feel a headache coming on, which funnily enough you were.

“I’m not going to bite anyone’s head off, I promise. There are just a few things in here that do not make sense and I’d like to understand before I am to present them as the team leader.” Please take the bait, Heyong Mun-Hee. You thought pleadingly with your eyes closed. If you have any self-respect left or at least feel a little sorry for being lazy, stand up and admit your mistake so that your perseverance shines through in this scene. You’ve done it before, you can do it again.

When you opened your eyes, she was still sitting at her desk with wide eyes and a flushed face, clutching her phone as if it were a lifeline. Your eyebrow twitched. You have got to be kidding me. You thought sourly. This isn’t how a female lead is supposed to act, let alone an actual employee of a multi-million won company.

Fine. If she wasn’t going to come to you willingly, then you couldn’t play nice.

You were about to call her out when she suddenly stood up and made a beeline towards your office, passing by you and taking a seat in your office. Huh? Isn’t this a bit rude? Unfortunately your role isn’t to ponder why certain people like common decency. So you turned around, walking back inside your workspace and closing the door behind you. Once you sat down behind the dark mahogany desk that was at least twice the size of a normal cubicle, you booted up your desktop and logged into the company’s bookkeeping program before swiveling the monitor around so that Hyeung Mun-Hee could see where she made her mistakes.

“Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee, I noticed that there were some miscalculations here,” You moved your cursor over one column. “And here.” You moved it to the right. “Here as well.” You moved it back to the left, right in the middle. “The formula you imputed for Columns H to J is incorrect. I want you to refer to your department manual and make the necessary corrections before sending it out to the other departments. I trust you can handle this task?”

She should be able to. After all, the female lead had a buffer for being extremely intelligent and a math whiz in the script. That’s why she was selected to work here instead of Human Resources, where her communication skills were also top notch. Hyeung Mun-Hee quickly nodded, standing up from her seat and almost bolting back to her desk, still holding onto her phone like a security blanket. Which was a little odd. You don’t remember her being so protective of it in the previous loops.

You reclined back against your chair. Oh well, no matter. Time to see this house of cards come crashing down in five minutes. Too bad it can’t be longer. But the show must go on, right? She might be scripted to fail, but you gave her a chance to correct her mistakes. So in the end, it was truly and solely all her fault, not yours.

Sure enough the phones began ringing off of the hook, followed by shouting from a few of the senior employees. You got a frantic phone call from Research/Development manager Choi Iseul, asking why the promised budget had been cut in half. Closing out the screens on your desktop, you reassured the poor girl that you would look into this matter immediately before hanging up. She really didn’t need the stress right now at four months pregnant.

You stepped out of the office, demanding what was going on. All eyes turned to the leading lady herself, her head down and face pinkened in embarrassment. You blinked. “Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee, what happened? You did fix the report as I had asked, right?” You controlled the tone of your voice, careful to not show anger and annoyance, strictly professionalism. You were pretty sure that you didn’t sound like a vindictive bitch either. But somehow she took your question as her cue to shout at you, to stop bullying her before running out towards the elevator. And right into the arms of the male lead.

You exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through [Hair Color] tresses before you turned your attention back towards the team. “I need to fix this report and send it off to the other departments or else things will get ugly. I know I’m asking a lot right now, but could you screen the incoming calls? If any of them asks, please let them know I am making the necessary corrections and will email it to them promptly. Disregard the one that they’ve received from Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee.”

Everyone clamored in agreement before diving back into their work, some already answering the phones and reciting exactly what you asked them to say as you bolted towards your office, slamming the door behind you. Considering that this isn’t your first loop, you had already taken the liberty of creating the correct report this morning before clocking in at the office. The issues were the same, so it took you all but twenty minutes to adjust and send it out to the managers.

The calamity that struck evaporated in an instant, and the phones had stopped ringing. To you, it only heralded the opening sequence of the next scenario. Looking up from your phone, you saw two people walk out of the elevator. The female lead was dabbing her puffy face with a checkered handkerchief, standing by Yeo Jung Hwa himself as he got off his own personal device, no doubt finishing his talk with the CFO about his darling’s little fuck up.

Placing your phone face down on the desk, you watched them glide across the room before the CEO reached your office, opening the door with a frown stretched across his face.

Yeo Jung Hwa. The male lead of Love and Fortune, blessed with good looks, riches, and has been in charge of the conglomerate since he was twenty years old. A classic tyrannical CEO that almost everyone loved to read or watch because they’d see how soft he was around his lover and wanted that same kind of treatment for themselves.

You saw him as little more than a cunning snake who knew what he wanted and would use any means necessary to get it. But whatever. Time to get into character. You thought as you stood up, eyeing the male lead apathetically. “Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?”

“Explain what happened.” He said, amethyst eyes narrowing at you. Yes, he has fucking purple eyes thank you goddamned screenwriters.

You raised an eyebrow. “Explain what, sir?” You asked. “The incident that has everyone in a panic?” Receiving nothing but silence from him, you continued. “It’s been resolved. I’ve already emailed all of the department heads the correct report to refer to at today’s meeting. I did tell Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee to fix the mistakes I’ve shown her,” You glanced at your employee before averting your attention back to the prick. “But when I looked at what was sent out, she did make a few adjustments…just that it only made matters worse and could have cost the company a lot of money.” You crossed your arms, leaning back against your desk. “Her performance was unacceptable, and she is my responsibility as her team leader. Which is why I would like to have Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee participate in this month’s upcoming financial seminars. A little refresher for two weeks, using her vacation days, and pass the tests so that there will not be a repeat of this incident again and jeopardize the conglomerate. Or would you see this as unfair treatment of an employee, CEO Yeo Jung-Hwa?”

You watched as the male lead looked over his shoulder, glaring balefully at his lover before he turned back to face you. “So be it. I want to see the results of her tests once they are completed and the lecturers aren’t under your payroll, Team Leader Park Seo-yun.”

“With all due respect, they are under your payroll, not mine.” You said drolly. “I don’t care how long it will take for her to complete the classes or to do the coursework. I want results, same as you. I do want to keep the completion certificates. If she doesn’t do it or chooses not to for whatever reason beyond a medical emergency, suspension with pay. No ifs, ands, or buts. Are these acceptable terms, sir?”

He didn’t like it, you could tell. Any event that separated from Hyeung Mun-Hee would put him in a sour mood and become more of a grouch. Kind of like a child having his favorite toy being taken away because he did something bad. But in this situation he couldn’t afford to have a temper tantrum for obvious reason:

1) Displaying an immature attitude in a professional environment will make him less appealing to the viewers.

2) As previously stated, it was the female lead’s fault that this whole mess happened. He saw the evidence of her major fuck up, the CFO saw it, everyone did. Trying to sweep it under the rug would only incite more rumors of nepotism. He has a reputation to maintain.

“...Fine.” He spat out. You nodded, seeing him turn on the ball of his foot and stomp out of the room. Nope, he is not happy about this. Neither is the trembling female lead standing in front of you. She really was a pretty woman, with reddish-brown hair falling past her shoulders and hazel eyes glistening with tears.

“You’re dismissed. I’ll let you know the seminar schedule once I hear back from HR. Please return to work, you still have two hours left on your shift.” You said, expecting her to go running to the restroom and cry, have a mental dialogue about how things were unfair right now but she will come out on top and preserve as it was written in the script. Except…she didn’t leave right away. She was glaring at you as if you were the most despicable person in the entire world, which you guess holds some truth.

“You said this is all my fault, but it isn’t because I wasn’t trained properly! Where do you get off, saying such horrible things like this?! Just because you are rich doesn’t mean you have a great personality!”

Your eyes widened in shock. Okay, this scene was definitely not part of the drama in the last three loops. And she’s smart enough to know to not say this, even if the door is closed!

Let’s be serious. No one should ever talk to a supervisor like this, even if they are an absolute scumbag and you hate their guts.

“Assistant Manager Hyeung Mun-Hee, you were trained to learn and carry out these tasks during the ninety day trial period after being hired by the conglomerate,” You said as you tried to calm your racing heart. “I showed you the mistakes you made, and it’s clear that you made almost no effort to fix them. If you had, then this incident would not have happened. That is why you are going to sit through those seminars and take notes, or you will be suspended without pay. This is not up for debate. And just because I am rich doesn’t mean you can talk down to people as if you are better than them, myself included. Now leave. And don’t let me hear such vulgar words in here again or I will punish you. Are we clear?”

“You-“

“Are you going to make me pull up your file and show everyone your certificates of completion from those training programs, the proof that you were trained to do your job and you’ve chosen to let others do your work for you?” You asked. “It’s fine to ask for help from others when needed, but you have to take responsibility for your actions or else you’ll never be able to surpass me.”

You watched Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face turn a darker shade of magenta and the tremors in her petite frame increase greatly before she excused herself. You could see the steam coming out of her ears; whether it was from embarrassment or anger, you weren’t certain. So long as she got your message and you acted your part as the villainess, then that should have met almost all of the requirements needed to move onto the next episode. The remaining factors were the viewership score and Being X’s approval.

The viewership score is a daily simple rating system numbered from 1 to 5 golden stars. If the episode reaches 3 and above, you’re clear. If the score is a 2, and Being X did not like your acting or even how everything played out, the loop would start all over again from the first scene. Perhaps instead of puppeteer, it’s more like a perfectionist director whose opinion can also be swayed by the viewership score. If the audience watching this fucked up universe enjoyed what they were watching, they’ll make it known.

After all, more ratings means more money, even if you’re not getting paid for this.

The last two loops where this episode happened, you followed the script to the letter without making any improvs. It didn't work out in the end, as you recalled with a frown at the memory. After being forced to kneel on the floor as you had done to her, you watched the lovebirds embrace. Well, at least the male lead was trying to comfort his ‘pure-hearted’ lover when that bitch smiled down at you from over his shoulder. As if she had won the game and you were the loser. Being X didn’t like the viewership scores back then. Now? Well, that’ll depend on whether or not you’ll wake up to the setting of episode 25 tomorrow morning. It’s either that…or finding yourself in the interview room again with Hyeung Mun-Hee during the pilot episode, her job application in your hand.

Fuck my life. You thought glumly.

Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations!

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score on Episode 24 has arrived!

Taglist: @nunezs-stuff @imperfectbloodmoon @yandere-dark-cupid @justcressida @cassanderasblog @faesdreaming @faux-ecrivain @abelheilonwife @tired-of-life-86 @tonightwrites @ixchelhernandez4 @aiimee9 @swallowtail-lotus @diannaflight @sweetbatherodonkey @strangepoppy @mochinon-yah @classicdummy @lanxianschoenheit @aman3kkun @beardedblizzardexpert @reiivven @majestichugs

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere!ceo #fem!reader #villainess!reader #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #x reader #tw sui attempt #tw sui implied #tw work toxicity #cw sui attempt #cw work toxicity

734 notes · View notes

hier--soir · 11 months

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bite the bullet

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two idiots finally bite the bullet and admit how they feel. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, age gap [20 years], angst, miscommunication, a meddling Tommy Miller, soft sleepy sex, oral [f], unprotected piv, masturbation [f], rimming, sixty-nine, both of them are assholes for a minute, resolved emotional tension. word count: 9.4k [i got carried away sorry!] series masterlist | masterlist this is part four of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, two, three.

Everything was wet.

Your feet squelched against the ground as you moved, little flicks of water splashing up against your shins with every step. Inside waterlogged shoes your socks clung uncomfortably to your skin.

Tommy was crouched underneath your sink, inspecting the u-bend of the pipe there, his lower half damp from the water that covered the floor of your kitchen.

“It’s definitely comin’ from in here,” his muffled voice came, and you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in exasperation. “I can stop it, but it’s gonna take some time for the place to dry out. I’d say you’d better clear out for a few days, leave a few windows open.”

You’d had a nice day. A lovely day, even. And you’d been looking forward to curling up with a whiskey and a good book before bed. But upon returning home from the greenhouse, you’d been horrified to find the entrance of your home covered in a thin layer of water. Splashing down the hall, you’d discovered that the entire place was wet; a shiny film of liquid coating anything that touched the ground. The wooden floorboards were soaked to the bone with cold water. A fucking flood. Thankfully Tommy was right, and you trusted that the August humidity would naturally dry it out with enough time.

“I can’t just stay here? I didn’t think it was too bad,” you lied. “Could lay down some towels.”

Tommy laughed under the sink. “You know you’ll get sick if you’re sleeping around all this water – towels or no towels.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, gazing at the floor glumly. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I’ll uh… I’ll get some stuff together.”

“Joel would take you,” his said, and you snapped back to reality, staring at his back while he worked. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. When you didn’t respond, his head reappeared, and he looked at you curiously, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “You and Joel are pals, right? Pals help each other out.”

Pals, you thought cynically. That’s one word for it.

Two weeks had slowly passed since the Peterson incident, and you’d only seen Tommy’s older brother a handful of times. There was still a tense energy between the two of you, so you’d been keeping your distance a little, allowing things to cool off. Bumping into each other here and there, dinner on the same table at the hall… but no alone time. No real time that would leave you two open to actually talking about it. That didn’t mean it didn’t play on your mind, though. Oh boy did it. In fact, most days you’d catch yourself gazing into a pot plant, thinking about that night. The way he’d taken you, made you tell him the details about Peterson, the way he’d showed you he fucking owned you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the way it had made you feel, and so you avoided it, even though your chest ached with the Joel-sized hole his absence had left in it. At least you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t admit to yourself how much you missed him.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tommy gave a polite shrug, smirking at you. Testing you. A huff escaped your lips, and you broke eye contact, stretching out your shoulder. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him,” you agreed begrudgingly, brain whirring trying to come up with excuses. “It’s late though, and he might not want me there.”

“It’s not that late, but sure,” he chuckled knowingly, going back to work on the pipe. “When hell freezes over and Joel says no to you, you let me know.”

An hour later, you were on your best friend’s porch, a bag slung over your arm, hesitating with your knuckle raised in the air. Taking a deep breath and running through what you were going to say, you finally willed yourself to rap your fist twice against the wood.

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joel, in a soft wrinkled t-shirt.

An easy, involuntary smile spread across your face upon seeing him. His beard was a little longer than he usually kept it, greys sparkling through the dark hair that framed his mouth so handsomely. He had clearly been settling down for the night, and he looked oh so cosy dressed in his sleep clothes.

“Hey man,” you offered up a sheepish smile.

He looked appropriately surprised to see you, considering you certainly hadn’t been knocking on his door at any point in the past fortnight. One of his eyebrows hitched upward, and he eyed the bag over your shoulder warily. “You skippin’ town or something? Who’d you piss off this time?”

You rolled your eyes and readjusted the duffel. “You gonna let me inside? This thing’s kind of heavy.”

He stepped back into the entryway with a grunt, allowing you to breeze past him and dump the bag onto the ground with a low thud. “Pipe under my sink is busted. Flooded the whole place today – Tommy said I should clear out for a day or two.”

He hummed, narrowed eyes raking over your face. “Oh yeah? So where you gonna go?” he teased, and relief rushed through your veins like warm water as you recognised the smirk threatening to take over his face.

You gave him a small laugh and sighed, holding your arms out in mock surrender. “Come on, Miller,” you said. “Let me crash here – I’ll owe you one.”

“Owe me one, huh?” his eyes shone with mischief. “Well I like the sound of that.” An odd, twisting sensation rippled through your stomach and you sucked your lips into your mouth, nodding slowly.

“Sure,” you retorted. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” When the words left your lips you both stilled, staring at each other warily.

He hummed, eyes darkening a fraction. “You’re playin’ with fire,” is all he said, before bending down to pick the bag up off the ground and ushering you towards the stairs.

You wondered off ahead of him, and when you reached the landing you veered right, pushing open the door to the spare room. He didn’t follow you in immediately, instead pausing in the doorway with a frown plastered across his face. You hadn’t thought about where you’d be sleeping until the second you reached the top of the stairs, but you knew this was the right decision. Sharing a bed with Joel for a few days? Probably not a good idea. Unless of course, that was going to be how you repaid your debt…Thankfully, or unfortunately, he didn’t push it, dropping the bag gently in the corner of the room.

“Hope Ellie won’t be bothered I’m here for a few days,” you thought aloud. The tone noticeably shifted, and you almost at how Joel seemed to deflate.

He leant an arm against the doorframe and sighed. “She ain’t spendin’ much time in the house these days,” he admitted quietly. “Stays in the bungalow or goes out. I doubt you’ll even see her.”

You hesitated for a second before asking, “Have you two spoken much lately?”

He scratched his chin for a moment. “You know the kid,” he shrugged. “She’s stubborn. M’tryin’ not to push it.”

“It’ll be okay, Joel,” you offered softly. “She’ll come around.”

He assessed you silently, eyes flitting down your body before resting on your face once again, and then he stepped back into the hall. Coughing awkwardly, he raised a hand in a sort of farewell, and said, “Well, uh, you know where everything is. I’m gonna… I was gonna head to bed, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching as he turned to head toward his room.

“Hey, Joel, wait,” you called, and he turned, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. I miss you, you wanted to say. I miss you, and I’m sorry things are off between us, and I wish we could forget it all and go back to normal, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. “Thank you,” you said instead, voice soft. “I really appreciate this.”

The look in his eyes dimmed a little but he offered up a smile. He nodded once, said, “Glad to have you here,” and then closed his bedroom door, and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

After showering and unpacking the few things you brought along, you curled up in the foreign bed. The mattress was soft enough though, and the sheets smelled like the soap Joel used. Your body ached from a long day of work, muscles tense and wired from hauling heavy pots around under the sun. Soon enough, you began to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Only a few hours into the night though, your dreams were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding across the landing. A beam of soft yellow light was shone into the room, painting the inside of your eyelids orange. Cracking an eye open, you saw that the door was ajar, and a tall figure was peering in.

“Joel?” you asked groggily, dragging a knuckle over your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” his deep voice came, but he made no move to enter the room. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can’t sleep,” he said softly, and your heart clenched.

Pulling the blankets open on the empty side of the bed, you didn’t even think before you said, “Get in.”

Your head fell heavily into the pillows, and sleep tried to pull you back under as you listened to Joel shuffle across the room and slide into the bed beside you. For a moment, he just laid there, a sizeable gap between you on the mattress. And then his warm, firm body was pressing up against your back, his large palm sliding over your hip to rest on your stomach and guide you back against his chest. His scent overwhelmed you, hints of mint and soap and pine tickling your nose, and fuck you had missed him. it was so familiar, and yet your body tingled as if it was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on you. Through the haze that settled over your sleep addled brain, you could feel him, stiff against your thigh.

“Jesus,” you teased drowsily, throwing caution to the wind by rubbing yourself back against him. “Were you having a dream about me or something?”

His nose traced a long down the back of your neck and you fought off a shiver. “Always dream about you.” If you weren’t so tired, that probably would’ve garnered a bigger reaction from you. But as it were, you just brought a hand down to rest over his on your stomach and gripped his fingers softly. “Was thinkin’ bout you being so close, yet still so far. Just down the hall, sleepin’ in my sheets…”

You hummed, warmth flooding your abdomen as he nudged his hips forward, rutting himself against you. His hand drifted out from under yours to slide up underneath your shirt, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your breast.

“Joel,” you murmured, eyelids heavy.

He hummed eagerly, planting a soft kiss underneath your ear.

“I‘m so tired,” you said regretfully. “It’s been a long day – can hardly keep m’eyes open.”

“Let me help you fall asleep,” is all he said, hand now freely roaming over your chest. His thumb lightly brushed the firm peak of your nipple and your whole body shuddered. “Just relax.”

You were vaguely aware of him pulling the covers off you and moving down the bed, dragging soft kisses down your stomach, before dragging your underwear down your legs. Slumping into the soft bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed.

Gentle, reverent kisses were pressed over your hip bones as he settled between your legs, pulling one of your thighs up to rest over his shoulder. His long fingers rubbed over the muscles in your leg, pressing down gently when he found knots, pulling deep sighs of contentment out of you.

“That feels nice,” you whispered into the darkness, and you could’ve sworn you felt him grin against your hip.

When his nose dragged through the dark hair on your mound you twitched slightly, body waking up a little at the sensation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and you relaxed again, humming lowly as his pressed a kiss against the inner most point of your thigh.

It felt like hours passed with him between your legs. At first you allowed yourself to slip in and out of near sleep, eyes closed as lax puffs of air escaped your mouth while his tongue dipped gently between your folds, giving you soft lazy strokes that warmed your insides. When the first bit of slick began to seep out of you, he groaned gratefully, licking and sucking at your entrance, exulting in your taste.

It felt like you were dreaming. Laying pliant on the bed, you were fully at his mercy, allowing him to move your legs anyway he wanted to give himself better access. You could vaguely hear him murmuring against your skin, but couldn’t make out the words over your own sighs, smiling sleepily as his tongue lapped against you. He worked slowly, and you realised that it was as much for his enjoyment as it was for your own. You knew by that point how much Joel enjoyed going down on you. He had told you as much on multiple occasions; how he’d love to spend hours with his face trapped between your thighs. But he’d never had the chance, or the patience, to really do it.

The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated against your core, echoing through the room around you. The way he fucking moaned into your cunt never failed to drive you crazy, but in that moment you just smiled at the sound, enjoying how peaceful it was, how sweet.

Every now and then you’d lazily blink your eyes open and look down, expecting that at any moment he’d pull away, be over it. But he never did. Every time you looked his eyes were closed, hands gripping your thighs softly, thumbs stroking rhythmically against your skin as content breaths rushed out of his nose, and you’d close your eyes again, the dark image of him scorched into the inside of your eyelids, never to be forgotten.

You started to feel more awake when he finally gave his undivided attention to the achingly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your core. Moving painfully slow, he glided his firm tongue across your clit, switching it up between swiping back and forth across it and then circling it.

“Oh,” you murmured lowly, voice hoarse from lack of use, but you couldn’t help the soft exclamation as your hips shifted upwards, suddenly searching for more. He didn’t change a thing, pace never increasing or slowing down, and it was perfect.

Your orgasm washed over you in gentle waves. Joel’s tongue swirled slow, gentle circles around your clit and your thighs tensed around his head, fingers reaching down to softly rake through his curls. He hummed happily, tongue lathing against you, enjoying every second of your release. Only pausing once your body stopped twitching and the muscles in your thighs relaxed against him, before kissing way up your stomach, your neck, under he was holding himself over you.

Eyes still closed, your hands drifted to the back of his neck and you pulled him down, his weight crushing against you but you didn’t care. Yours lips met tentatively, and for a moment that was all it was. A soft, gentle kiss. And then you felt him, straining against his briefs, pressed between your thighs, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. It was messy and slow, tongues tangling together, teeth knocking awkwardly, and you found yourself smiling into his mouth. It should have unnerved you. Should’ve been enough to make you stop, turn your head away and make him fuck you rough so you would forget how intensely intimate the moment felt. But you didn’t.

“You should sleep,” he murmured against your lips, pulling his hips back a little so his erection wasn’t so obvious.

“You should come inside me,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip the band of his underwear and tug them down over his hips. He groaned and kissed you again before reaching down to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

No other words were exchanged as he adjusted himself, and then he was pressing into you, his needy moans spilling out against your neck while your hand snuck underneath his shirt, fingernails gliding down his back as he filled you completely.

“God, I missed you,” he choked out, voice cracking. You whimpered softly. “You’re so wet.”

“Made me feel so good, Joel,” you preened, kissing the side of his head.

“Yeah?” he pulled his face out of your neck to look at you, and you nodded, staring at him through bleary eyes. Joel kissed you again. A long, yearning kiss that made your heart throb, and it didn’t take long until he was falling apart on top of you, shaking against your arms that wrapped around him, held him against your chest. You whispered praises in his ear as he came, hips grinding into yours, pushing himself so deep inside that it had you gasping into his mouth. It was so unlike any other time you’d ever slept with him, and alarm bells rang somewhere far in the deep recess of your brain, but you ignored them. You’d missed each other, and you’d both earned a little softness after the time apart. And so the two of you fell asleep like that; tangled in each other’s arms, with him still inside you.

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. The light was harsh, and you cursed yourself for going to sleep without drawing the curtains. You went to sit up in the bed but stopped suddenly, realising how hot you were. With a soft start, you glanced down and understanding jolted through you like a flash of lightning. Joel’s house, you remembered; you were at Joel’s house. But what you hadn’t expected to find was Joel still in the bed, arms coiled around you like wire while he snored quietly in your ear. For as many times the two of you had slept together, neither of you had ever slept over. It was an unspoken rule, and one that had never been difficult to follow. But he’d broken it… or you’d both broken it, maybe. Keeping your body as still as possible, you found yourself breathing deeply, trying to maintain the allusion of still being asleep to avoid rousing him from his slumber. Frustratingly, your heart pounded in your chest, brain zeroing in on every part of your body that touched his.

His soft lips brushed the back of your neck, heavy breaths puffing against your skin. A solid knee was wedged between your legs, one hand lazily gripping your breast. The insides of your thighs were sticky where his come had leaked out of you overnight, and your eyes widened at the sensation.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that you didn’t hate waking up with him beside you. No, what surprised you most was that you did like it. In fact, you found yourself longing to relax into his arms and go back to sleep. But common sense reared its head, and you slowly slipped out of his grasp, moving slowly so as not to wake him while you dragged yourself out of the bed. Staring down at Joel, a pang of fondness rush through your chest. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead, plump lips pushed out into a pout as he breathed deeply, hand resting on the empty bed where you had just laid. His breathing hitched momentarily, and you froze, realising how odd it would be for him to wake up and catch you standing there naked, staring. Trying not to give it another thought, you quietly collected some clothes from your bag, and slipped out of the room to start your day.

Hours passed in the greenhouse. You distracted yourself with cucumber seeds and tomato plants, pushing Joel out of your mind as you worked under the sweltering sun. Underneath the glass roof of the nursery, the heat multiplied, and by the time your shift was over you were covered in sweat, shirt ticking uncomfortably tight to your back. You stopped by at the community hall for dinner and ate alone, your brain a whirlwind of thoughts of Joel, Joel, Joel. You couldn’t shake the feeling that had lingered in your bones all day; the aching desire to have stayed in bed with him, to have relaxed into his arms and cuddled him for the rest of the morning. Your best friend, for fuck’s sake.

“Christ,” you mumbled aloud through a mouthful of food, rolling your eyes at yourself.

It felt like you were going crazy, but the worst part was understanding that this must’ve been how he’d been feeling for weeks already.

I’ve never asked you for anything. Not for anything more than what we’ve been doin’, never pushed you for more.

That’s what he’d said, two weeks ago, the day he found out about Peterson. The words played in your head like a mantra. Words that you had firmly avoided bringing up, ones you’d never pushed for an explanation about. You’d chosen to sweep them under the rug, and yet, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fucking forget them.

By the time you returned to his house you discovered him sitting on the couch downstairs, engrossed in a book. It was the picture of domesticity. The sweet scent of vanilla floated through the air towards you, and you noted the small candle burning on the table beside him.

Staying in Joel’s home, even for just one night, you’d noticed so much more about it than ever before. There was something interesting to look at everywhere you turned, and sweet-scented candles were just the tip of the iceberg. He left random objects littered across countertops, like little treasures for you to stop and inspect during your travels throughout the house. Wood that he’d whittled into interesting shapes, books that he’d read the first few pages of and then abandoned, countless mugs in odd places with dark brown coffee stains at the bottom of them. It was homey, and warm, and subconsciously you found yourself enjoying the insight into his most private space – into the things he did when he was truly alone.

Joel hadn’t noticed you come in, so you seized the opportunity to watch him from the doorway for a moment. He was wearing his comfortable clothes again, and a thin set of reading glasses were perched on the scarred bridge of his nose. A quick flash of heat tore through your stomach. You’d never seen him wear those before, and it had you stumped. The glasses, paired with the salt and pepper through his beard and hair, reminded you of his age. Twenty years older than you, and still the most handsome man you knew.

You finally broke the silence, announcing yourself by asking, “What’re you reading?”

Joel’s head snapped up, and he stared at you over the top of his glasses. Shutting the book quickly, he straightened up on the couch. “Uh, Brave New World,” he lied, flipping the book so you couldn’t see the cover.

You hummed, unconvinced, and bit down on your bottom lip to hide a smirk. Tommy had told you once before that Joel was a sucker for gothic romance novels, but you’d never truly believed him until that moment. From where you stood, you recognised the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights that had gone missing from your bedroom a few months prior.

A flush rose in his cheeks and he coughed awkwardly, picking up a mug that you hadn’t noticed on the floor by his feet. It was cute; a little beige ceramic thing, with an owl painted on it.

“You see the patrol roster for tomorrow?” he spoke into the mug, swiftly changing the subject.

“I did,” you murmured. What you didn’t acknowledge, was that you’d also seen Peterson and Davis’ names on the list for the morning patrol. “Should be nice. We haven’t gone to the ski lodge in a while.”

A vivid memory of you two fucking up there raced through your mind, and a low heat simmered across your face as you remembered Jesse and Dina almost catching you once. Shaking the thought from your mind, you looked at him again to find him gripping the mug tightly, lips pursed in thought.

“We haven’t,” he agreed lowly, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “You haven’t been gettin’ called outside the gates much at all these days.”

This is it, you thought hungrily. This is the moment he tells you how he can’t wait to fuck you there tomorrow while you’re supposed to be patrolling. This is the moment he tells you he can’t even wait until tomorrow, and he drags you upstairs to his bed. Warmth flooded through your thighs, and you held your breath, staring at him.

But Joel didn’t say that. Instead, you watched dejectedly from the doorway as he rose slowly from the couch and tucked the tattered book underneath his arm. “Well,” he coughed, turning towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get some shut eye. It’ll be a warm day, and I’d better get some rest before we head out.”

You watched him move towards the stairs, heart beating painfully fast against your ribs.

“I’m actually not tired,” you blurted out. Joel paused. His left hand gripped the banister, and you could’ve sworn it might break in half based on the way his knuckles went white.

“Well, I am,” he said over his shoulder, before padding up towards his room , not even turning to give you a second look.

You tossed and turned for an hour, staring at the ceiling wide awake. The linen sheets stuck to your sweaty skin, making you feel claustrophobic enough to kick them to the end of the bed. You waited for him. Every creak and groan the old house made had your ears twitching, eyes glancing eagerly toward the door, expecting it to creak open and reveal him sneaking in through the darkness.

And when it became clear that he wasn’t coming, you pushed away the uncomfortable feeling it brought, and snaked a hand past the band of your underwear. Your fingers raked over the coarse hair there, teasing yourself for a moment, before you slid a finger through your damp folds. Collecting your slick, you dragged it up to coat your throbbing nerves and sighed in relief.

Your middle finger dragged quick circles over your clit, and all you could picture was Joel above you, fucking you while wearing those stupid fucking glasses. Cursing him in your mind, you pressed a finger past your entrance, and huffed in frustration at how it paled in comparison to the thickness of his digits. You imagined the way the glasses would fall to the tip of his nose, almost falling off his face while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. In an attempt to stifle the soft moans trying to escape your mouth, you bit down on your bottom lip, fingers moving quicker against yourself. And you came like that; hand down your underwear, rubbing yourself frantically, thinking about nothing but him.

It was hot, and the skin of your thighs chafed painfully as you and Joel ambled silently through the stables, getting your horses from their stalls to saddle up. He hadn’t said much to you all morning and you were trying not to read into it, but the fraught silence had you on edge.

You winced upon spotting Davis and Peterson standing by the gate, chatting while they loaded their rifles. Lloyd caught your eye and smiled, offering a short nod in your direction. You returned the nod before looking back down and fiddling with Japan’s saddle, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed.

“Gimme a sec,” he muttered. “Gotta go pick Jesse’s brain.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and continued tugging on the straps of the saddle, until your skin prickled, a presence looming over your shoulder.

“Should we see if we can swap partners?” that voice sounded, and you turned to see Lloyd smirking suggestively at you. “Send Davis and Miller out East together, and you and me could head to the ski lodge?”

Your palms dampened a little and your eyes darted around the stables. There was no denying that Lloyd Peterson was a handsome guy. He was young, somewhere in his early-twenties. He had bright green eyes that shone in contrast against the dark brown hue of his skin. Straight, bright white teeth almost blinded you whenever he smiled, and you’d have to be a robot not to be effected by it. Past his shoulder, you spotted Joel hovering at the mouth of the stables, gaze trained on the pair of you. Caught, he turned quickly, muttering under his breath as he stalked off toward Jesse.

You looked back to Lloyd and shook your head once. “I don’t think so,” you said. “Gonna stick with Miller today.”

Not giving him much chance to respond, you gripped Japan’s reigns and led her out of the building. Joel and Jesse were talking in hushed tones by the gate, and you walked in their direction, pausing a few metres away when you noticed how tense the conversation seemed to be. Jesse was frowning at the older man, shaking his head slowly.

“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice came again, and you turned with a sigh, raising a hand to block out the sun as you stared up at him. “Can we talk?”

“Talk,” you rushed out, glancing to the side just as Joel appeared beside you, holding out a rifle. You shouldered it quickly, noticing the way Lloyd seemed to balk at the older man’s presence. “Peterson,” you urged, eager to get it over with. “Get on with it.”

He spared another awkward glance at Joel before speaking in a lowered voice. “Did I do something wrong?” You cringed, knowing Joel could hear every word, and yet he didn’t move a muscle. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, eyes trained on the man, uninterested in offering the pair of you any privacy to finish your conversation. “I thought we had a good time, y’know? But you’ve been avoiding me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied plainly, even as the thought of him telling Davis about fucking you flashed through your mind. Joel was deadly quiet, eyes flicking between the pair of you like he was watching a game of tennis. You sighed deeply, wishing this wasn’t happening in front of him. In a moment of almost… shame, you realised that you didn’t want Joel to get the wrong idea. Didn’t want him to think that anything else had happened, or would ever happen, between you and Peterson.

“Then why won’t yo-“

“Why don’t you back off kid,” Joel interrupted suddenly, and your shoulders tensed, skin prickling at his harsh tone. “She’s not interested.”

Lloyd flinched at the words, and he looked to you, waiting for you to say something, to refute Joel’s claim. But you were distracted by the sudden warmth in your abdomen, and when you didn’t react quick enough he scoffed quietly, spinning on his heel and walking back where Davis was waiting with their horses. When you looked at Joel, he had a pleased smirk on his face, and you felt your stomach fall somewhat, guilt spreading through you at the way Lloyd rode out of the settlement without looking back.

The ride to the ski lodge was long. For the most part of the three hour trek, you rode alongside each other in silence, until finally you couldn’t help yourself, thoughts tumbling from your mouth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t say a word.

“He was already embarrassed,” you added. His top lip curled up into a mean smirk.

“Peterson’s an ass. He should be embarrassed.”

A huff escaped your mouth and then he was turning, looking at you fully now with his eyebrows pinched together.

“What, your little boyfriend can’t handle some friendly teasin’?” he sneered, the change in mood so sudden you almost fell off your horse. And all the warmth you’d felt, every soft yearning part inside of you toward him, you pushed it to the side and focused on the confusion instead, allowing it to morph into pure anger. You were seeing red; furious with him for never being able to just see reason.

“Oh, fuck off Joel,” you scowled. “I’m not doing this with you today.” You kicked your heel against Japan’s hide and rode ahead, not listening for a reaction.

The higher the pair of you rode up the mountain, the hotter it got. By the time the horses were tied up by a trough of water and the pair of you were walking into the lodge, sweat was rolling down your skin in rivulets. A headache brewed in your temples, and frustration weighed heavily on your chest as Joel huffed and puffed around the room. Even being able to hear his breathing across the room while he scrawled in the logbook was enough to set your skin on edge. Eager to get some space from the tense atmosphere, you gruffly told him that you were taking first patrol, before shouldering your rifle and stalking back outside into the heat.

“You idiot,” you scowled to yourself, storming through the trees. Shame burned in your chest like a wildfire as you thought back to the night before. Touching yourself in his house, making yourself come thinking about him, wondering if he’d fuck you at the ski lodge. God, you felt like a teenager with a hopeless crush.

Your feet planted in the dirt, the word ringing in your head like an alarm. Eyes wide, you gazed into the trees.

“Nope,” you mumbled, starting to walk again slowly. “No, no, no.”

“Y’know they say talkin’ to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

Fuck.

“What are you doing?” you turned quickly, staring him down from through the thick trees. “I told you I’d take first patrol.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Saw you storm off too,” Joel rolled his eyes, propping his hands against his hips. “What’s your problem?”

“Jesus,” you grinned sarcastically. “I should be the one asking that question.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, stepping forward. The tan skin of his neck glistened in the sunlight, and you hated yourself for wanting to know how it tasted. Thankfully, hatred and anger were easier emotions to tap into than whatever the fuck you had been feeling about him for the past few weeks.

“It means,” you ground out. “That you’re a nasty old bastard.” His face darkened, lips twisted into an angry snarl, but you continued. “Peterson’s not my fucking boyfriend, so you can give it a rest okay? I had it handled.”

“Sure,” he laughed bitterly. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it, havin’ him hit on you right in front of me. You get off on the attention, from him and from me. I bet you loved havin’ me step in, tell him to fuck off.”

Your face was on fire as you glared at him, acutely aware of how the tension had spiked between the pair of you. Entire body tensed, you squared your shoulders and stared him down. “Are you fucking serious, Joel?” you asked lowly, eyebrows raising.

“Deadly,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t forget that I know you, baby, better than anyone.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” you spat desperately, turning around and walking quickly in the opposite direction.

“Oh yeah,” he called, the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you making your stomach drop. “Walk away, sunshine. Let’s just not talk about it, right? I know that’s your favourite thing to do. Walk away, and act like nothing happened.”

“Oh my god!” you shouted. “Grow up, you fucking assho-“ But as you spoke, your foot landed awkwardly on a patch of moss. You heard a low popping sound before you shrieked as your legs flew out from underneath you. You hit the ground awkwardly, ass slamming into the ground, and dirt sprayed into the air around you.

“Shit,” you hissed, moving to get up but cringing as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. The flesh around your shin was already swelling, and you cursed audibly, reaching down to rest your hand against it only to wince at the dull pain spreading through your entire foot.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say, and then his warm hands were on your shoulders, and he was crouching beside you. Breathing heavily, you stared as your ankle swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Come on, let’s get you back,” Joel said, gripping your elbow to lift you up.

“Get off,” you snapped, shoving him back. He stumbled a little and then stood, glaring down at you. “I can do it myself.”

“Clearly you fuckin’ can’t.”

Eager to prove a point, you dug your fingers into the dirt and pushed yourself up, and then began limping back towards the ski lodge.

You moved slowly with Joel trailing just a few steps behind, close enough that you could hear his breathing, and the way he muttered inaudibly whenever you stumbled. When you almost tripped trying to step over a tree branch, he snapped, appearing at your side in an instant and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Joel,” you warned lowly, but he interrupted.

“Would you stop bein’ such a brat,” he snarled. “You might’ve broken your fuckin’ ankle, just let me help you god damnit.”

You grumbled under your breath but didn’t fight him again, silently grateful to lean on him and get some weight off the injury. His chest rose and fell quickly as he led you back to the lodge, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from him.

“It’s not broken,” you muttered. “Probably just a sprain.”

“Good,” he grunted, helping you up the steps and into the building. “Idiot.”

“Jeez, thanks, Joel,” you said bitterly. “You’re a real pal.”

His hand gripped your waist tighter, before lowering you onto the couch. “Any time, bud.”

Joel stormed into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of water, tossing it at you before slamming down onto the sofa beside you. “Jesse and Dina will be here in a few hours, just keep it elevated until then.”

“You got it doc,” you rolled your eyes, eagerly gulping down the water even though it had gotten uncomfortably warm in his pack.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while, your ankle throbbing where it rested atop the coffee table.

“I don’t fuckin’ get you,” Joel finally breathed, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment on your lips, only to find him with his head tilted back against the couch, eyes closed.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“You heard me,” he said. “I don’t fuckin’ get you. You go two weeks avoidin’ me, I hardly see you, then you’re knocking on my door, askin’ to stay? And then today you’re cursin’ my goddamn name. Throw me a fuckin’ bone, darlin’, cause I got no idea where I stand with you.”

Your lips parted, all the breath in your lungs rushing out of you in one fell swoop. His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown settled across his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. He didn’t look angry, you realised. He looked confused; he looked hurt. Your stomach rolled.

“I could say the same,” you started pathetically, and then his eyes flashed open and he was staring back at you with those dark brown eyes that fucking killed you.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said blankly, eyes darting around your face.

Your lips felt numb as you slowly asked, “What?”

“You left,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ left me, and I just don’t know if I can keep pretendin’ anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t… mean anything to me. Pretend that I’m fine with… this. Don’t know if I can keep doing it if you’re just gonna leave. My heart can’t take it.”

It felt like time stood still for a moment. Outside one of the open windows, you could hear the trees rustling in the hot summer wind. Your ankle ached. Joel kept staring at you.

“You know that’s the best I’ve slept in years?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “Slept so fuckin’ sound with you next to me. No nightmares – hell, I didn’t even dream. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I almost wished it had never happened. So that I wouldn’t have to know how good it felt to have you, wouldn’t have to try and sleep without you every night after, knowing exactly what I was missing.”

“Joel,” you tried again but he shook his head, raising a hand in the air to stop you.

“Just let me,” he took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. “Let me say this. Just once, and then I’ll let it be, okay? I won’t bring it up again, and we can go back to the way things were befo-“

“Stop,” you croaked out, tears swimming in your eyes. “Shut up for a second. I,” you paused, eyes darting over his face, searching for understanding. “I didn’t want to leave, okay? But I’m scared Joel. Jesus, I’m so scared of this.”

“Scared?”

“Of this feeling that won’t go away. Of wanting to stay. I’ve been trying to push it down, to ignore it, and it doesn’t fucking work, no matter what I do. I’m so scared that I’ve fucked up our friendship, that I’m going to lose yo-“

“Never,” he shook his head firmly, hand reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Listen, you’re not losin’ me, okay? That's never gonna happen.”

“But Joel,” you sighed shakily. “If we push things further, there’s no going back. Don’t you understand?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he admitted quietly. “I think it’s been too late for me for a while now.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, and when you spoke again you could hear the fear in your voice. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

Joel chuckled humourlessly and sighed, squeezing your thigh again.

“It’s you,” he said. “That’s what I want. You don’t have to do anythin’, don’t have to change or be anythin’ else. I just want you.” His eyes shone in earnest, and you couldn’t help but surge forward, planting your lips against his. He returned the kiss with fervour, parting your lips with his tongue and gripping the sides of your face in a searing grip.

He tasted like salt and mint and your head was swimming, consumed by him. Your fingertips were numb as they raced over his body, desperate to touch him everywhere all at once. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until his hands joined yours, carefully undoing them all until you could pry it off him.

Pulling back from the kiss, you allowed your eyes to rake over his exposed chest, taking in the sight of his tanned, hairy chest, littered with scars and freckles and you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. So you did. You pushed him back into the couch and straddled him, ignoring the way your ankle cried out at the movement, and attached your lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking your way across his torso. Showing reverence to every imperfection on his skin. Your tongue swiped past one of his nipples and he jolted beneath you, hands dragging under the fabric of your shirt to rest on your back. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and you smiled against his skin before rolling your hips down against his. He was murmuring your name in between sighs, scratching at your skin, revelling in the kisses you sponged across his chest.

Your eyes trailed upwards to meet his. “Want your cock in my mouth,” you whispered, and his face crumpled in on itself, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Fuck,” he sighed, gripping your hands tightly before pushing you off him. He stood up and in one quick movement he knocked the coffee table over, before he was undoing his belt and stripping his pants off. He helped you off the couch slowly, before lowering you down onto the carpet, crouching down to rest beside you. His large hands roamed across your chest, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward to expose your breasts, your aching nipples peaked and begging to be touched.

“Fuck,” he repeated, harsher this time, leaning over you to plant his mouth on your chest. His teeth scraped across your sensitive skin and you whined, gripping the nape of his neck as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.

“Joel,” you mewled, tugging his face back up to yours for a brief kiss. “I mean it,” you breathed into his mouth. “Need you in my mouth so bad. M’gonna make you feel so good, I swear.” Within a second, he flipped the two of you over so his back was against the ground and you were straddling his hips. You grinned triumphantly, shifting your hips back as you kissed down his chest, moving your body down until you were straddling his shins, and pulling his briefs down with you.

His cock rested proudly against his stomach, thick and swollen and begging to be touched. The head was a deep shade of red, small beads of precum weeping out of his tip as he stared at you, patiently waiting for you to make a move. You didn’t waste a second before leaning down and gliding your tongue softly over the tip, swiping up his salt and humming at the taste. A sharp inhale whistled past his teeth, and you watched his eyes clamp shut at the sensation, hand forming a fist at his side. Gently, you took his hand and raised it to your head, encouraging him to touch you. He obliged, fisting your hair in his hand, grip tightening as you parted your lips around him and let him sink into your warm mouth. A long, drawn-out moan left his mouth and your cunt pulsed in response, the warmth between your thighs suddenly impossible to ignore.

“S-so good for me,” he groaned, pulling your hair tighter. “Love your mouth, I love it. That’s it, baby, open up a little more for me, show me how much you can take.”

The sharp sting on your scalp made you moan around him, and he cursed, undoubtedly feeling the vibration. The weight of him against your tongue was intoxicating, and you bobbed your head up and down slowly, his cock gliding in and out of your mouth easily, slick with your spit. You’d missed the taste of him, missed the sensation of him filling you up to the point where it was hard to breathe, and yet you still wanted more. You pressed forward, eager to feel him fill you up, but when his cock brushed the back of your throat he was gripping your hair and pulling you off him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and you looked up in confusion. His bottom lip was bitten raw, and his eyes were a darker brown than normal as he gazed at you. When you didn’t move, he was pulling you up and turning your body so your back was to him, and only then did you realise what he meant. He pulled your shorts down your legs, dragging your underwear with them, and then he carefully tugged one of your knees up and over his shoulder, so you were straddling his chest. Slowly, you shuffled back on your knees until your wet heat was hovering over his face, and you leaned down to let your chest rest against his.

“Baby,” Joel sighed. “So fuckin’ perfect. Such a pretty pussy. Can never get enough of you.”

You clenched around nothing, and heard him groan, signalling that he’d seen it. Without warning, his tongue dipped between your folds and you gasped, pushing your hips back to give him a better angle, before taking him back into your mouth. And it was nothing like it had been two nights before. He wasn’t gentle, or slow, or relaxed. No, Joel was relentless.

His tongue moved rhythmically against you, and you tried desperately to focus, harsh breaths leaving your nose as you moved your mouth lazily along his length. You pulled back and lathed your tongue around the head of him, tasting the salt that dripped out of him. He grunted into you and you smiled, stroking him slowly as you sucked the tip, grinding your tongue into the sensitive skin just underneath his head. Joel’s hips bucked up off the ground, and your hand left his length, gripping his waist firmly to hold him down while you took him into your mouth again. You pushed yourself as far as you could, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he brushed the back of your throat. His beard scratched against your inner thighs deliciously, and you decided you loved it a little longer. And then suddenly, his tongue moved away from your clit and he was licking broad strokes along the entirety of your core, and then over your entrance, and then… his tongue flicked all the way back and into new territory.

You flinched forward, his cock surging deeper into your throat and you gagged around him as you explored the new feeling. You moaned, eyes screwing shut at the foreign sensation, and you felt your legs begin to shake against his sides. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you down harder against his face, ruthlessly dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to your hole, until you were tearing your mouth away him and sitting up, grinding yourself down desperately against his face. Arching your back, you writhed on top of him, crying out hoarsely. Every strong flick of his tongue felt like an electric shock jolting through your body, and he continued until you were panting and twitching on top of him, and then you let go. The orgasm tore through you, a shout falling from your lips as you rode his face, gripping his thighs for leverage as your entire body shuddered with the intensity. He didn’t let up; licking and sucking and kissing, his moans vibrating through your core until you were whimpering and dragging yourself off him, clit aching from the pressure.

You were still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Joel pressed your back down onto the carpet, nudged your knees apart so he could fit between them, and pushed himself inside you. A sweet, low burn blazed in your abdomen with every inch he gave to you. The wet sound of you sucking him in might have embarrassed you, but the look of awe on his face as he stared down at where you were connected just made you feel powerful.

His thrusts were strong, the sweaty skin of your thighs smacking against each other noisily filling the air, mixing with your breathless moans of his name.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he was saying, but you weren’t listening, eyes rolling back in your head as he played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cried out at a particularly hard thrust, stomach tensing as the head of his cock grinded against your g-spot.

“There?” he panted, and you nodded frantically, mouth hanging open as he pressed against it over and over again, groaning at the way you tensed around him.

Urgent sounds left your lips as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, and you watched with wide eyes as his hand trailed down your chest to rest over your mound, his thumb slipping between your folds to press gently against your throbbing clit. Your back arched up from the ground and you choked out a moan as he rubbed you in slow circles, a stark contrast to the way he drilled into you with his cock.

“Come,” Joel encouraged and you whimpered, eyes screwing shut as the overwhelming feeling soared through you. His free hand landed over your throat and your eyes flew open, looking up at him as he applied soft pressure to the sides of your neck. “C’mon baby, let me have it. I can feel you, you’re so fuckin’ close, give it to me, please, I want it.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you gasped against his hold, bucking up into him as he fucked you roughly. You twitched and writhed on the ground, his thumb never stopping its movements against your clit as you cried out his name.

And somewhere amidst it all, his movements slowed. His hands turned soft on your body, head dropping down to drag gentle wet kisses along the skin of your neck.

“So good,” he praised lowly. “So beautiful.” Your heart soared in your chest, and you smiled drowsily, body tingling as he continued to give you gentle thrusts.

“Kiss me,” you said shyly, and Joel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into his mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip as you draped your heavy arms around his neck, pinning his torso down against yours. “Fuck me like this,” you told him. “Want to feel you close to me.”

He nodded, starting up a slow rhythm, only ever pulling out halfway before pressing back into you. You were both slick with sweat, and you wiped his forehead gently before raking your fingers through his thick messy curls. His face was red from exertion, and you thumbed his cheekbones gently. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth. Still recovering from your previous orgasm, you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to build you up for another one.

“Give me one more,” he begged, sponging feather light kisses over your eyelids, your cheeks, down your neck. “Want to feel you come with me, baby, please. Just one more, I know you can.”

You gripped his hair and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangling together as he moved his hips slowly, cock dragging in and out of you at a devastating pace. Joel pulled back to watch you, eyes gazing down with adoration as he moved above you. That familiar liquid heat began to burn in your stomach, curling through every fibre of your being, and you could see in his face that he was close. And there was something else there too. Something you couldn’t place; simmering in his eyes, lingering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. His hips began to stutter against yours, a choked gasp of your name falling from his lips as he quickened his pace until you were coming together, holding each other tightly on the ground of the ski lodge. He moaned heavily against your mouth, and you throbbed around him as his spend coated your walls, warm and slick, squeezing out around his cock as he moved.

As a low, warm silence filled the room, you worked to control your breathing, body shaking against his as he pulled out of you. You whimpered at the empty feeling, missing the weight of him already. But he didn’t go far.

Joel laid down on the carpet beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his chest. Your fingers trailed over the skin of his stomach, smiling at the goosebumps that developed in your wake. Mine.

His hand caught yours and he lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently. You leaned forward to rest your face in the rook of his neck, and he sighed in contentment, trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Joel?” you murmured against his skin.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I called you a nasty old bastard.”

Joel laughed and tightened his grip around your back, tugging you closer to his chest. “I forgive you.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #fwb joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #bite the bullet #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Text

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now.

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring.

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see.

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry.

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome, “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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gracieheartspedro · 7 months

Text

Crave

Part 3 of "How Long"

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

find part 1 and 2 here!

dedication: @jenispunk <3 I love you sm jen. thank you for always supporting my writing and being the best wife a girl could ever dream of. you make my heart so happy. thank you for helping me edit and being the first to read this and encouraging me no matter what! love you love you love you!!!

description: a weekend escape with joel and sarah, kinda. the bed situation is a little confusing. luckily you and joel make it work. when sarah's not around, of course.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING AGAIN, dirty talk, daddy kink (aha), hotel sex?, begging? lmao I think that's it.

author's note: finally. it's here. I feel like I've been staring at this doc for 7 years. thank you all for your patience. I want to continue this series but I have to sit down and really brainstorm what I'd like the next parts to be. let me know your thoughts! THANK YOU FOR READING!

“My favorite Millers!”

Your face was beaming, seeing Joel hop out of his truck with Sarah in tow. The truck was still running, the diesel engine chugging louder than any truck you had been in before. Joel always had a nicer, newer truck. He made great money and he was always having to go into construction zones that needed an all terrain vehicle. They always got pretty banged up with dirt and rocks, but he took excellent care of the interior.

Joel grabs both of your bags, taking them to the backseat where Sarah would be crammed in with all the luggage. You give him a nod, silently thanking him. Sarah wraps her arms around your waist, giggling with excitement.

“I’m so happy you’re coming with us! It’s going to be a great weekend,” She explains while you two walk over to the tall truck. You always found climbing into a truck unnatural and awkward yourself, but it was hot watching Joel hop in with ease. You agree with Sarah, all the while opening up the door for yourself. Sarah springs up to her seat, and you struggle to crawl up into the cab. It makes Joel chuckle.

“I’m making you lift me into this thing next time,” you joke, easing back into the fabric seats, “Especially since you think watching me struggle is funny.”

Joel looks back in the rear view to see if Sarah’s paying attention, “‘s no problem at all, darlin’. I will gladly help you next time.”

You knew he was flirting. It makes your stomach bubble with excitement. He makes sure you two are buckled and starts on the two and half hour journey to Houston. Once you leave your neighborhood, Sarah taps your shoulder and holds out her new CD player. It’s purple and covered in sparkly stickers.

“Looks like your Dad is supplying you with all the ways to listen to music,” you observe, glancing over at Joel. He’s just watching the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propped up on the shifter. He looks younger, the dusk sky the perfect back drop for his pronounced nose and beautiful eyelashes. You couldn’t help but stare, even as Sarah’s talking your ear off. He just nods along to her, making sure she knows she’s heard.

“Think I’m gonna listen to my Kelly Clarkson CD this time,” Sarah explains, putting her earphones over her voluminous curls, “So don’t try to talk to me!”

You and Joel giggle, shaking your heads at her comment. It’s not like you were the one’s talking before, you both think.

It gives you both a moment without a kid’s ears nearby.

“How was the rest of your work week?” He asks, tapping the shifter to the soft hum of the radio.

“Boring,” You mumble, “Think one of the guys in marketing has a crush on me and he’s making it impossible to avoid him. I can’t even go to the break room without him bothering me.”

You didn’t know why you felt the urge to tell Joel about the situation. It wasn’t even a real situation, it was just an annoying thing happening in your life.

“Hmph,” he ponders for a moment, “Want me to kill him?”

His tone is serious, but you know he’s just messing. You grin, nudging his arm with your elbow gently, ensuring it doesn’t move the steering wheel.

“My hero,” You comment as you watch a smile crack across his face, “No, thank you, though. If it starts to get to stalker status, I will call you.”

“Seems like stalkin’ already, baby girl.”

The nickname makes your stomach flip. You purse your lips, contemplating his words. Sure it was creepy, but the guy was scrawny and you could probably snap him in half with two fingers. He had nothing to really worry about. Right?

Joel steals a glance over at you.

“Maybe, but I’ll handle it.”

You wanted him to think you were strong enough to deal with unwanted attention, but to be honest, you weren’t sure how to say no to most men. You only ever had Tommy and he scared everyone away. Now everyone around town knew you were on the market, and men were drawn to your natural beauty and somewhat sassy attitude.

Little did they know, you were hung up on the other Miller boy.

“You let me know if you need me to talk to him,” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, just reaches his right hand out to rest on your thigh, “Man to man.”

His hand is so warm, you feel it through your black leggings. He was almost always like a furnace, but it was okay, because you always ran cold. But every time he touched you, you felt that warmth trail up your arms and legs. He made you feel different. Every fiber of your being became electrified when he was around. It was a sensation you never noticed when you were with Tommy. You begin chalking it up to just being nervous because he was older and larger and… well, hotter.

“Again, my hero,” you respond sarcastically, letting your hand rest on top of his. It makes him more confident, gently massaging that area. You watch as his hand creeps closer and closer to the crack between your legs. You practically gasp at the contact, but you catch yourself before you do, remembering there’s a child behind you.

So you smack his hand away, shooting him a glare.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ just… sorry.”

You didn’t want him to pull away, your leg already missing his touch, but you knew what would happen if you did stuff like that in front of Sarah. She’s a teenage girl. She’ll talk. It’ll find it’s way to someone’s ears.

You wanted to act like you didn’t care if Tommy found out, but deep down you knew it would be a disaster. You didn’t feel like being the talk of the town. You didn’t feel like explaining yourself to Tommy. You didn’t feel like watching Joel deal with the flack from his family, especially his mother.

If you two wanted to continue this… game… you would have to keep it secret. That included keeping it away from Sarah’s eyes and ears. You and Joel would just be friends. You would just be her aunt. That’s it.

“Don’t apologize,” You whisper, “Just not here.”

You two let the radio take over the rest of the trip, occasionally chatting about a song or what the newscaster says about the weather. Once you get into Houston, it’s already 8:30 at night. Joel pulls into the parking garage to the Marriot and you already start craving the bed that awaits you inside.

“I call the bed near the window!” Sarah throws her stuff down, jumping straight onto one the huge queen size duvet. The room was nice. A large television set catches your eye immediately, proving that this was probably an expensive room if they were giving you free cable tv. The curtains were open, giving a beautiful view of Houston’s skyline.

One thing you notice, too, is the fact that there was only two beds. You knew this, but it still made your stomach sink a bit.

You realize you three hadn’t discussed the sleeping situation. You didn’t care where you would sleep, honestly. You just knew Sarah was a restless one, having slept next to her in a tent when she was 9. Family camping trips entailed you, Tommy, Joel, and Sarah sharing a 6 person tent and being absolutely miserable the whole entire time. Between Tommy’s snores and Sarah practically flailing all around the tent at night, you remember not getting a lick of sleep.

“Go get a shower, Sarah. We will figure out who’s sleeping where.”

She groans at Joel, like usual.

“Dad!”

“Shower,” he throws his bag down on the ground near the dresser, “No arguin’.”

Sarah sulks, her bag in hand, straight to the bathroom by the front door. You don’t say anything. You just start following Joel’s lead by putting your bags down next to his. You stand a bit too close to him, waiting for him to say where you’d be sleeping.

He clears his throat, “I will take the recliner, if you want the bed.”

“Of course I want the bed, but I don’t want you to have to sleep in the recliner.”

It makes him laugh, how matter-of-fact you are.

You hear Sarah start up the shower. You wouldn’t have to fear she hears you and Joel talk about the possibility of sleeping with one another. Again.

“It’s not a big deal,” He explains, unzipping his bags to grab his pajamas, “Sleep on the couch all the time.”

“But you have a nice plush couch,” You gesture towards the hard and structured looking recliner, “That doesn’t look comfortable at all.”

For a girl who didn’t want Joel touching you in the car, you were practically begging him to sleep next to you in the big comfortable hotel bed.

“So, where do you want me to sleep?”

“Just take the bed.”

“But you want the bed.”

You swallow, not even looking up at him, “We both can have the bed.”

He’s silent, gripping onto his sweatpants and t-shirt. He slowly looks down at you, his eyes carry a curious glint in them. You cock your head, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“You and Sarah?”

“No, you and Sarah.”

He groans, “You are a fuckin’ tease.”

You giggle, watching him brush pass you to position himself close to the closet. He opens the closet door, slipping in like he’s looking for something in there.

“What are you doing?”

“Changin’.”

“In the closet?”

He grabs his shirt from the nape of his neck and pulls it off smoothly. You can’t peel your eyes away, partially seeing his right peck from how he’s standing. It was like the morning after having sex with him. Your eyes were glued to him, his tanned skin practically asking to be touched and licked.

You horny bitch.

“Joel, get out of the closet.”

He chuckles, “Why? You want me to give you a show?”

Why yes, I really do, Joel. You think to yourself. You hum a response, peeling your eyes away. You needed to find your pajamas, a pair of Nike sports shorts and a black tank top. Lately, you’ve been sleeping completely naked, but that was obviously not an option here.

Sarah finally leaves the bathroom as soon as Joel slides his pants up. She has her hair wrapped in a towel, which makes you smile. She looked so grown up, it’s hard to believe you met her when she was 6 years old. You wordlessly walk into the bathroom, beginning to change your outfit for your sleep wear. You splash some cold water on your face, your cheeks still blushed from seeing Joel shirtless.

You hear the door outside open and close. You peak out, your traveling clothes wrapped up in your arms. Joel stands in the middle of the room, fiddling with the remote for the TV.

“Where did Sarah go?” You question, packing your clothes back into your duffle.

“She wanted to go get ice from the ice machine,” He grumbles, “Said she wanted to see if any of her teammates were awake or nearby.”

“Is her whole team staying here?”

“Yeah, pretty much every team gets a floor. Last year it was a like a huge sleepover. Fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel mutters, flicking through different channels, before landing on some westerns. You smirk, deciding to plop down on one of the beds. As soon as you lay back, Sarah comes back in, bucket in hand.

“Can I go stay in Amelia’s room? Her mom is there, just two doors down.”

Well that solves the bed problem.

Joel rolls his eyes, you can tell he’s already annoyed. “Is Amelia’s mom okay with that?”

“You want to go talk to her? I promise Dad, we will get up at 5:30 like we need to. Pleas-”

“Let’s go talk to Amelia’s mom.”

You hear them leave the room without saying anything else.

You were tired from a long day at work and the long drive. But some excitement blooms in your stomach when you realize it may just be you and Joel, all alone in a hotel room.

Before you have time to ponder all the wonders that may be in store for you, Joel comes back with a frustrated huff.

“She staying over there?”

“Yeah, Amelia’s mom said it was fine. Then she started askin’ who you were. Guess they saw us in the hotel lobby.”

Your stomach twists, nervous at what his response was.

“And?”

“Told her you were Sarah’s aunt. She gave me a weird look.”

“Great, now the soccer mom’s will be oogling me tomorrow.”

“Well they will anyway,” Joel responds, finding a spot next to you on the edge of the bed, “Single ones won’t leave me alone.”

You know he’s really just seeing if you’ll get jealous. But you don’t play into his little game. You just let out a loud hearty laugh.

“The ladies just love a Miller.”

He grumbles something inaudible, nudging you with his elbow. “You do, don’t ya?”

“Sure do.”

His face softens, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

You grin, “She’s 14 and super goofy. Loves to play socc-”

“You’re truly testin’ me today, ain’t ya?”

You can’t help yourself at that point. The way he’s flirting only gives you more reason to taunt him.

“Is Sarah seriously going to be gone from the room all night?”

“Yeah,” He nods, leaning back on his palms. He acts like he’s watching TV, ignoring your not-so-subtle hints that you want his eyes on you.

“So, I can finally ask you why you think it’s okay to tease me in the car?”

“Don’t know what you’re on about, darlin’,” He smirks, he knows.

You tilt your head to the side, finally lifting your hand onto his lap. You immediately start toying with him the same way, your hand creeping towards his crotch. His eyes peel away from the TV. He watches you closely, his eyes trailing from your gaze down to your fingers dancing on his pant leg.

“You put your hand on my thigh and started inching closer and cl-“

“Are you tryin’ to make a point or pose a question?”

He was getting annoyed with the games already. But you’d only just begun.

“I’m just trying to explain how you can’t do things like that to me in front of Sarah,” You remark, flicking your eyelashes up to his glare, “Especially when you can’t finish it.”

“Who said I ain’t gonna?”

You huff, “Well here we are, all alone in a hotel room. No kiddo in sight. Still not touching me.”

“Don’t think you deserve it cause you’re a tease.”

“How am I a tease, Miller?”

“You exist and that’s enough. Walkin’ around in a tank top,” He gestures to your chest, “Just beggin’ to be touched.”

Your skin is set alight. The words go straight to your core.

“Joel-“

You’re cut off. His hands work quickly, pulling you by the nape of your neck, right to his eager lips. You begin to realize you had been longing for this moment for so long. He couldn’t resist anymore, his whole body buzzing at the fact that he finally has you again.

His lips are soft and slow as they make their way around yours. His hands eventually trail down to your butt, his hands cradling both cheeks. He lifts you forward, sliding you up and onto his lap.

“Been wantin’ this for months, baby.”

Butterflies erupt in the pit of your tummy. You can feel them travel up to your chest as you look down at him, his eyelids heavy and his lips pursed.

He waited for you to respond to his calls, knowing you needed time. He needed to be patient. You would come around, he knew it. After months, here you are.

He thinks back to every time he was touching himself late at night, he would imagine the night you two shared. Your soft curves and needy dripping pussy. It drove him wild imagining you like this again.

“I think it’s been more than wantin’, Joel,” You grind down on his prominent bulge growing in his sweatpants, “Think you need it.”

He grins, finally getting out of his own head.

“Such a little tease, damn it.”

You lean down, mindlessly speckling kisses behind his ear and neck. Your boobs rest right in front of his face, and you’re right, he needs it. His hands leave your behind, reaching up to the straps of your tank top. He tugs them down your biceps, allowing your cleavage to spill out more.

Your hands find his dark peppered curls at the nape of his neck, pulling downward. You needed him closer and he obliged. He starts to kiss your collarbones, wandering down to the swell of your breasts. You can feel yourself staining your sports shorts with anticipation.

You rock your hips, craving more. He takes the hint, reaching back down to lift you from your ass. He switches spots, laying you on your back on the plush white duvet. He’s leaning over you now, which gives you a great view of how spent he looks already. His gray sweatpants are hanging lower, tenting where his cock has grown hard.

He smirks, taking off his shirt the same way he did earlier. With one hand, it slips right over his head and onto the floor.

“Jesus,” You huff out, using the time to remove your top, “I need you, Joel.”

The smirk never leaves his lips. He leans down, pushing your legs apart with his pointer and middle finger. You open up for him, wanting nothing more for him to dive into you in every possible way. You watch as he slides his fingers up your thigh, past the openings of your shorts.

He realizes you aren’t wearing underwear. He sighs as he swipes the pads of his fingers across your wet slit.

“I know you do,” He drawls, watching you writhe under his touch, “You need me as much as I need you.”

He practically tears off your shorts, not wasting any time fighting with the fabric.

You adjust how your laying to accommodate him laying between your thighs. He lays down on his stomach, bringing your hips close to his mouth. You watch as he kisses your inner thighs, his breath hot fanning against your skin.

You remember the last time you were in this position. You spent night after night remembering the best head you’ve ever gotten, from the one and only, Joel Miller. And you could tell Joel was not going to go another moment without making you cum on his tongue.

When his tongue hits the top of your slit, you whine at the contact. He presses his face in, diving deeping into your lips. As soon as he finds your clit, he puts all his attention there. His nose is pressed against your mound as he hums against your sensitive bud.

“Joel,” You cry, reaching down between your legs to grab the crown of his head, your hands lacing into his locks, “Right fuckin’ there.”

He continues his movements, only increasing in speed in which he flicks his tongue. He wraps his lips over the swollen area, sucking and lapping your sweetness. He pulls away, the slick between your thighs missing him instantly. He brings his fingers up to his mouth and wets them with saliva. He glances up at your completely dazed face.

“‘M gonna fuck you with my fingers first,” His voice is deep and hushed, “Make you cum. You gonna cum for me like a good girl?”

You don’t even know where it comes from. But you say it with your chest.

“Yes, Daddy.”

You never expected the moan to come out of his mouth. It’s deep and guttural. He couldn’t believe his ears, and he can’t believe the words came from your mouth. His good girl? That fuckin’ flithy?

He slips his fingers into you without resistance. His mouth finds it’s way back to your core, fucking you in unison.

You reach up to your chest, cradling your own boobs. Joel’s still only in sweatpants but they are riding low on his hips. As he’s giving you his all, he’s grinding his hips into the bed, trying to get whatever friction he can. Watching the motion alone is driving you wild, sending your hips rotating on his tongue. You knew the release was coming, you could feel it in your fingertips.

And when it comes, it’s like fireworks inside your stomach and chest. You lurch forward, crying out his name. You knew it was probably way too loud for the thin hotel walls, but you couldn’t help yourself. The orgasm sends stars speckling across your vision.

Joel fucks you through the comedown. You are the hottest thing he’s ever laid eyes on, he thinks. When your body rests back, you’re panting, trying to ground yourself for a second. Joel pulls his fingers out and sucks each digit.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” You mewl, reaching out for him. You just need to touch him.

He shimmies his sweatpants down and off his legs. He’s sitting back on his knees, smiling down at your desperate eyes. He crawls on top of you, his dick prodding at your thighs. He leans down, trapping your lips into another longing kiss. His hands trail down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls back after a couple seconds, gazing into your eyes.

“You still on that birth control?”

You hum in response.

“Need me to pull out still?”

You smirk, lacing your arms around his shoulders, “No. Need you to cum inside me.”

He shakes his head, sitting back to line himself with your entrance.

“My dirty girl,” He runs his cock head between your swollen red lips, triggering your hips to move closer to him, “You drive me insane.”

“Come on, Joel. I’ve been waiting for ages for you to fuck me. Need you. Now.”

He chuckles darkly, still not giving you what you want. “Waiting ages, huh?”

“Joelllll,” You beg, smacking his chest, “Please.”

“Mmm,” He pushes forward just enough to relieve your ache, “Love it when you beg for it.”

He practically splits you open when he snaps his hips. You both groan simultaneously, unable to hold back this sick fantasy you’re both playing into. You feel more full than you ever did before. You don’t remember it hurting this good.

“Holy fuck,” you whine, “So fucking full, Joel.”

He slowly pulls back, “You tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

You shake your head, throwing your head back as he sets a cautious pace. He’s watching all your facial expressions, making sure he’s not hurting you. You wince when he starts to pick up the pace, which causes him to halt completely.

“No,” You plead, “More. Faster. Please, just please.”

He says nothing, just pushes up your thighs so the back of them are flush with the front of his. He leans over you, his elbows on each side of your head. He grinds into you while his dark curls fall into your face. You tilt your head up, finding the crook of his neck again.

His cock felt so good dragging in out of you. You felt like you could stay in this position forever. You molded so perfectly around him. He treated you like this beautiful mural, taking his time with delicate strokes. His hands wrapped around the back of your head, holding you in the curve of his body.

You latch your lips onto his neck, peppering lovebites everywhere. You didn’t even think about if they could be seen later. In the moment, you only thought of him as yours. He was yours and everyone would fucking know it.

He’s starting to get more greedy. He pulls back, his warmth moving away from your perked up nipples. His upper body the best view you could get, so you couldn’t complain too much. He grabs behind your knees, using them as leverage as he starts to pound into you.

Your eyes meet and for fuck’s sake, he’s perfect. You never knew you could see Joel Miller like this. Like someone who fucked you so good, but also cared so tenderly for you. He wanted to see you in the throws of pleasure, not even worrying about when he’d get his rocks off. He got his rise out of seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

His ravenous drive to bring you to the edge is causing the headboard to slam against the wall which each stroke. He brings his left hand up to your bouncing tits, grabbing your nipple and tugging on it. He knew what touching your boobs did to you. He remembers watching your visceral reactions to him toying with them before. It brings a smile to his face.

“I’m gonna-”

You don’t even finish your sentence, you just gasp as you feel his cock head hit the deepest parts of you. A place no other man has made it to.

“I don’t want anyone else,” He musters out, his teeth clenching as your pussy restricts around him. He means it. He may be drunk on you, but he feels those words down to his bones. “I only ever want this.”

It was never just about the sex. Joel cared for you. Fuck, maybe he even loved you.

You swallow, propping yourself up on your elbows. You glance down, watching his cock slip so perfectly, in and out of you.

“I’m yours, Joel,” You manage to peep out before the orgasm you’ve been holding back builds to a maddening point, “I’m yours.”

The words make his cock twitch. He can’t help himself, he needs you to cum right this very moment. He doesn’t say anything, just unhooks your legs and uses his right hand to put pressure on your clit. Tears start to prick in your eyes as he lazily rubs circles, humming in satisfaction. He feels you tightening up, he knows your close.

Your vision goes white. You body starts to vibrate, the pure bliss he’s sending you into takes you to a whole other dimension. You want more. More. More. More.

As he watches you seize up, he can’t resist his own orgasm. The explosion sends him into a moaning mess. He fucks into you, painting your walls with his cum, not letting a drop go to waste.

He collapses on top of you. You don’t even care, you feel like jello anyway, he could melt right into you.

He rolls off after a minute.

You always miss him when he’s not near you.

You stare at the ceiling, pondering the right words to say to him. Nothing comes to mind. He gets up, walking naked to the bathroom. He grabs a rag from the shelf above the toilet, running it under some warm water.

When he returns, you let him clean all around your body. You make sure he doesn’t wipe away the wet kisses he left all over you, though.

“You okay?”

You finally look at him.

You want to say yes, because you were okay. Physically. But your heart wanted to pulsate out of your chest.

“I will be,” You state simply, “Just tired.”

He slowly starts grabbing all your articles of clothing off the floor, dressing you once he collects all of them. He’s careful with you. Gentle.

“Do you want to sleep in the same bed?”

The question rings in your ears. Of course you did.

“As long as you get up at the ass crack of dawn and move before Sarah comes in.”

He chuckles, pulling his sweatpants back over his waist. He doesn’t even bother to put on his shirt.

“Will do, baby.”

When you wake up, you realize the overheard light flickered on. You contort your sleep dazed body, Joel’s upper body practically laying over you. You try to blink the haze out of your eyes, but your tired mind is completely shocked when you see an outline of a girl.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

You fling your body upward, rattling Joel awake. He’s startled, his arms flinging off of you.

“I knew it!” Her voice is piercing. “I knew it! Holy shit!”

“Sar-”

“Are you two dating? Or are you just… wait, ew!”

She’s rambling, her words clashing together in confusion. Your heart is about to hammer out of your chest.

“Sarah, we aren’t dating,” You declare, your voice shaking.

“But you’re sleeping together?”

You could cut the silence with a sword. It’s so thick and awkward.

A 14 year old girl shouldn’t know you’re sleeping with her Dad. Let alone walk in after you spent all night tangled up in him.

“Sarah,” Joel’s voice is buttery and raspy after he wakes up. You hold the comforter up to your chest. You had your tank top on, but it hangs so low on you, you don’t want to risk anything. “Grab your uniform, get dressed. We can talk about this later.”

“Does Uncle To-”

“Sarah! Stop!”

It scares you since it’s so close to your ear. His voice changes so abruptly, it makes you cringe a bit.

Hearing the question from Sarah’s lips makes you feel queasy. Having the girl who you always considered your niece ask if her uncle knew you were sleeping with her dad... God what a fucking mess.

You watch her storm across the room, grabbing her backpack and race to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Joel groans next to you as he slams back into the plush pillows.

“She will be fine. We will talk about it later,” Joel says under his breath.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

You hadn’t thought much of this through. Ever since you and Joel first slept together, you pushed your harbored feelings to the side. Sometimes they creep in, which would send you into a panic. Because deep down, you knew you felt something for Joel. Something you hadn’t felt since you first started dating Tommy. Maybe even ever. It was exciting. He made you feel special. After everything he said to you last night, you knew he possessed some similar emotions and feelings.

You felt crazy for believing this could work.

You knew this would be complicated. Now Sarah is involved. How do you explain these emotions to a child? You don’t.

You think about all the horrible outcomes to this situation. Tommy wanting to fight Joel. His mom never accepting you back into the family. Who knows, maybe Sarah gets so upset at the situation, she never treats you the same again.

But then you think about Joel. How he’s a night and day difference to what Tommy was to you. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to take care of you every chance he could.

You start to think back to the times when you were still with Tommy. Joel defended you when you two had a blowout fight. He always made sure to have a watchful eye on you when you all went out to bars. He was even there when you graduated college, giving you a bouquet of beautiful daises he swore up and down Sarah picked out. But you knew the truth. Joel loved daisies. He even had his Mom plant some in his front yard last year.

You were just so scared. You didn’t want to be hurt again. You did not want your feelings to be wrong.

You glance down at him, your back still turned. He could read your face, he knew you were overthinking everything. Your mind was working overtime, trying to muster up some excuse to run away and forget everything that happened between you two. There was nothing normal about this situation.

But fuck, you both really wanted it. So bad. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself.

His hand creeps up your back, resting a reassuring palm on your aching shoulder.

“Stop thinkin’ for a minute,” he whispers, “You don’t need to make any decisions right this minute. We will just take it one second at a time. Ain’t no way ‘m lettin’ you go. I want you here.”

You didn’t know if he meant here in general or in the figurative sense.

He meant it both ways.

Maybe it was crazy, but that feeling was deep in your chest. This palpable inkling that this could evolve into you being his.

This being more than sex? More than a crush?

Being Joel’s sounded like a fever dream.

He wanted nothing more but to wrap you up into his arms, hold you and kiss your head, reassuring you that you two can figure it out together. But instead, Sarah walks out in her soccer uniform, squashing the moment. She stands in front of the bed, finally making eye contact with you.

“You guys gonna get up and watch me kick ass, or are you gonna to lay in bed all day?”

You smile at her. You silently prayed this girl would stay in your life forever.

“I know my answer.”

Joel smiles, “’s go kick some ass.”

again thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!

find part 1 and 2 here!

#how long #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #gracieheartspedro #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tommy miller #joel last of us smut #joel the last of us #tlou gifs

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supernovafics · 4 months

Note

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness.

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch.

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan.

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock.

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be.

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him.

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.”

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words.

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other.

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance.

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.”

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.”

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.”

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?”

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?”

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs.

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be.

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday.

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door.

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care.

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.”

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve.

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth.

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve.

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies.

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.”

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door.

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.”

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful.

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that.

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible.

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you.

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again.

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different.

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year.

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning.

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him.

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.”

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.”

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.”

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously.

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.”

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?”

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.”

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided.

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.”

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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undercoverpena · 1 month

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5. pepper red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 2.5k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] SMUT. p in v. dirty talk/mutual appreciation. minor competency. frankie is pretty, thick and sexy. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. you wear a date outfit but not specified. no use of y/n. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it wouldn't be allowed to be aired and also, i passed my exam, wahoo.

prev chapter | series masterlist

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you that his bedroom is forest green. Or, that it’s accented by strong whites and similar dark woods as the living room. All earthy tones, him.

In the same way, it doesn’t surprise you that his skin is soft, all smooth as your fingers brush over his skin when you lift his t-shirt from his frame.

Because he looks as good as he did in those videos you’d watched over and over. Getting the chance to see if the silver scars were tricks of the light or stories he hadn’t shared. Your fingers discovered it was the latter.

“God, you look good, Frankie.”

He snorts, before sliding a thumb under your jaw, forcing you to confront big, doe brown eyes. Ones that you’d fall into if you could, especially as they pause, stare from one eye to the next, likely to see if there’s a lie there—a slither of untruth to your confession.

There isn’t.

A thing you ensure sits at the forefront, a silent plea for him to believe you. You suppose he must do when his mouth slides back over yours. Tongue pressing at your lower lip, seeking entry that you happily allow.

You lose yourself in it, him. How good it feels to have his lips on yours again. To have the added feel of purposeful and intentional fingers taking their sweet time to slide your outfit from you.

Because his hands trail over as much as they can. Doing so as though he’s busy carving a memory of you in his mind, making you real. A thing you won’t admit you’re doing too, too busy committing the way he feels, as you run your hands across his shoulders. Feel the expanse of them, the width, wondering—as his tongue swirls a shape on your neck—if yoga will really help you fit his broadness between your thighs.

Frankie must notice you’re drifting, thinking, because his mouth finds yours. A thing which cements you to the moment. Kissing you slowly, deliberately—a hint of mint amongst the drink he’d provided and you smirk, smiling against him.

Because he’s eaten a TicTac.

It mixes, fighting to refresh as though you hadn’t eaten and consumed the same fast food. But the act, the way his lips slide against yours, makes that joke melt as quickly as it appeared, because he’s completing his mission: the one to leave you breathless.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you choose to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding back behind his teeth as a soft moan escapes him; swallowed by your own as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. The feel of him, hard and ready against you sends a thrill of anticipation darting through you.

It’s easy, simple, to allow the rhythm of your bodies to become a language all of its own. A two-way conversation being sketched out and written in sighs and moans, punctuated by the occasional gasp. A symphony of desire.

And then you make things shift. Change the tempo when your hand descends between the two of you. Feeling him, grasping his cock, taking note of the way he inhales at the feel of your fingers. For a moment, his mouth hovers over yours—both open, just breathing. His palms flat to your side—as you hold him, feel his cock twitch in your hand. Moving, slowly—almost torturously, but it’s actually with precision.

He’s so hard, thick. Your fingers tighten their hold, wrist moving more, palm sliding up and down as you taste the way he says fuck.

“Bed,” he groans, almost through gritted teeth.

Smirking, you bite his lower lip. Light. Not piercing or enough to leave an indent. “In a minute.”

And it leaves his tongue again. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby.

All you can think about is how good he sounds, looks—feels. His head tipped back, neck elongated—lips parting as each expletive lasts longer than the four letters that make it up. It’s cliché to say it’s never been like this, but a truth that personal isn’t always easy to confess.

“Not waited to do this right with you to come before you have, Rainy.”

His fingers, those calloused ones attached to those hard-working hands, wrap around your wrist. Light, but determined.

“Oh, Butterscotch,” you tease, mouth close to his. “You been thinking about this?”

He smirks, just as he clasps his other hand to your side—tugging, yanking you flush. Feeling him, all of him, as you’re guided, moved, backs of your legs meeting the well-made bed you’re about to mess up and ruin.

“Since the moment I heard you laugh.”

Your body falls back, the sheets cool, smooth, pressing against your bare spine, before his body comes up—caging you. Nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Just kept thinking, bet you make other pretty noises too.”

Lips parting, you knot your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, letting his lips slide into his cheek. That dimple appearing. The one which tries to hide under wiry hair and shyness, but is deeper than ever now, nothing held back or hidden.

And you can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the light from the lamp he'd flicked on. The one lighting up his face, making him appear golden, ethereal. Able to discern each of the shades that make up his eyes, the flecks within them, the different browns that make a colour you dream and think of constantly, but you’re not sure has any other name than Frankie.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

You find you can only nod.

Words failing, falling, simply replaced by a gasp as he slides them between your partly spread thighs—feeling it, how wet you are. How slick and desperate you are to have him. A mess, all for him, by him. It likely ruined the underwear you’d left on his floor and dampened the sheets under you.

“This all for me?”

The rasp of his voice only makes you ache more for him. Hips desperate to shift so his fingers do more than trace and tease, but plunge and curl.

“Yes,” you moan.

It's like he knows you. A thought that bubbles and bursts when your fingers grasp at his sheets, his two fingers feel so much different than your own; Than the toys you own that are shoved in protective bags inside your sock drawer. His seek, aiming to find that spot inside you, stretches you, making your toes curl and your knuckles ache from how tight they hold the sheets.

And he’s talking. A sea of things that you half-catch and miss the rest. That you look good, feel good, that he wants to watch you come apart before he even thinks about giving you his cock.

Words almost leave your mouth, but you’re barely present.

More electric than person; more liquid than solid. So fucking close already you can feel the tremors in your thighs from not rutting yourself against his hand when the base of his palm presses flat to your swollen nerves.

“Fuck, Frankie—”

“Do you like it when I talk, baby?” his voice becomes an anchor. Keeping you here, not allowing you to float too far as you nod, crinkled pillows sounding as you do. “I think you do. I think you like hearing how hard you make me, how much I think about you in this bedroom, in the shower—at work—“

You’re arching. Barely clinging to the present as your feet flatten to root you, to grip to reality as your ears ring and pleasure does more thrum, but builds and builds—all compressing, hot, closer to liquid fire.

“—look at me, baby.”

And you do.

Lids flipping open as you’re met with nothing but desire, lust and need. It pushes you, suddenly freefalling. Your throat aching, scratched with the syllables of his name as you dig fingers into his curls and curl your body as much against him as possible as he works you through it. Him coaxing, mouth on your collarbone as he licks and lathes as you moan, and pant.

It’s then you look at him again.

Bathed in a sandy glow, sweat peppered on his chest, glinting and glittering as you find his eyes on you, taking you in as you catch your breath.

He’s so handsome, beautiful. In a way that ruined you before, that made you think of nothing but him, which now devastates you—in a way you only want him to do over and over.

It’s easier to kiss him than say it.

To trace the words over his mouth as he hums, as the vibration tickles across your lips before you’re manoeuvring him. Only paused in doing so as he dragged his lips down your neck, the sound of a drawer opening, closing, hearing a wrapper crinkle.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment when your hand snatches it from him, placing it between your teeth, trying as they do so easily in movies to lightly rip it over with your teeth. You struggle. Suddenly nervous about piercing it, mind in overdrive because what—

"Easy, baby. I've got it," he growls into your ear, taking it from you, opening it more with ease than you'd managed.

And it makes you crash your mouth back to his. Etching more things to his mouth, smudging them over his tongue. How much you want this, want him.

It’s why you’re grateful that Frankie moves with ease until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. A hand finds a home on your back, once the empty wrapper is discarded, fingers spreading out, flowing warmth into your bones. Then the other begins aiding, lining himself up as the head presses against your opening.

When you take as much of him as you can, fingers soothing your hip at the stretch, the hiss drawn from your lips at the light sting, before your forehead meets his. It's a moment before you move again. His words are there, guiding, before the room is flooded with a moan that's unearthed from your soul. One that is almost smothered in his own, a groan that makes heat flood your ears and a smile grace your mouth.

“So good for me, feel so good—“

“Can take more,” you interrupt, breathless. Slowly moving again, lifting up before sliding back down his cock—walls welcoming him, stretching, taking him to the hilt. “Y’feel good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your hips slowly, torturously if anything. Still sensitive. Little gasps escape as you begin to find a rhythm, one that makes his teeth bite down on his lip.

Taking his hand, pulling it to your breast, wrapping around it as he cups it—as his groan stains the air between the two of you—you draw an O with your hips, feel that heat in your stomach.

“I like your hands, Frankie.”

A line appears, deep between his two brows. A look of shock, surprise—awe—spreads over his face like a sunny day suddenly appearing in a storm. Before, it’s slipping away, hiding, wriggling away to some depth of him you wish to call back.

“I like your voice, your smile—fuck, oh my god—and-and I like your thighs, and your…”

You continue, babbling, rambling as his hands find your hips, steadying, moving you, thrusting up into you as little spots appear in your vision, as your own voice becomes distant and easily forgettable.

But the look on his face is anything but the latter.

He’s spellbound, utterly captivated—appearing as though if his mind was a camera, he’d have filled up several memory cards with what he was trying to capture.

And it feels good.

A wanting so bad that it almost makes you snap there and then, more so as the head of his cock kisses that part of you once again, a whine coated in both a gasp and a moan—

“Put your hands on the headboard, baby.”

And you do, assisted by him moving you with him sheathed inside of you before palm after palm is placed. The fabric underneath is soft, almost like velvet—leaving marks of your touch behind in its wake as you feel his mouth on the underside of your breast.

“You look good like this,” he continues, mouth pressing kisses to your skin, “But then, you always do.”

Your eyes snap to his, finding nothing but hunger paddling in brown. You don't fight the heat that flares out to the last few places pleasure hasn’t touched. Where only compliments and adoration can kiss and warm.

Then he says your name.

Not baby, not Rainy, but the one you’d handed him in that paint aisle and set yourself on a course for unravelling. A thing you don’t regret, but rather wish had happened sooner.

Your name rasped in that deep way that echoes through the room long after the last letter is spoken, digging deep into your soul as it unlocks something. It makes every sound amplified; the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Let me hear you, baby,” cuts through, slicing,

And you do.

Your whine shifts into a sob, almost choking on it as it snaps—as pleasure rips through you and drowns you in waves. There’s nothing but white, a much louder ringer, and the distant knowledge that you’re spraying his name across the room as your hips stutter and he thrusts up into you, twitching, fucking breathless from it.

His hands, large and holding tight, keep you rooted—slowly hearing him groaning, grunting, low hisses of your name and how good you feel tight around his cock.

His fingers dig into your skin when he follows you. When his eyes clench, and his mouth parts around your name, lighting it up, making it seem as special as he makes you feel.

You collapse fully against him, thighs still shaking, little tremors in your muscles as your fingers brush back his damp curls from his forehead. A smile easy to find, to let slide over your mouth as you kiss him.

The light from the lamp drapes over you—still sticky, a mess between your thighs as you kiss him again, bodies flush. More gentle, a light lick across his bottom lip as you feel him grin, hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your back

He murmurs your name, palm sliding up your cheek, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Should clean you up.”

“Hmm…”

His thumb swipes, hearing him swallow as your eyes open and find his already on you. “Don’t go.”

"To clean up?"

"Tonight."

Biting your lip, you try to fight it—less a smile and more a grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

And his lips capture yours once more. A thing you relax into—easily. Just like you keep finding so effortless to do with him.

next chapter ->

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #francisco morales smut

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jojomiwbvb6 · 1 month

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The Shower Scene, Pt. 4

Taglist: @emzandthevoid @mentallynot-here @bloodymug @sprokat @princesspeach-00 @ghoulsquad @missduffsblog @yeehaw-my-guys @lma1986 @artificialbreezy

Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long to do this chapter! I have had a bit of writer's block and I have been busy doing a lot lately. This will be the finale to this series, I really hope you enjoy! Feel free to give me more ideas! I was thinking of writing some Sasuke or Itachi fics as well.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW. Extremely long and descriptive smut, unprotected p-in-v (be safe about it, or use condoms please), overstimulation, degradation, praise, oral (female receiving), punishment, spanking, swearing, squirting, casual alcohol consumption

PSA: this is very obviously a work of fiction, and should in no way be taken seriously or literally. this piece of fiction uses real people in fictional and fantastical mindsets--and it is in no way a representation of the real person or who they are as a whole. Thank you for coming to our ted talk.

Atlanta.

The humid wind hits your face, the city never motionless around you. You inhale the air, closing your eyes and letting your body relax. Your nerves are completely jumbled and overstimulated as your mind mulls over the past week so far.

The pictures of yourself flash through your head. Noah's words flooding your mind. You can't escape the anxiety it brought you, and the excitement of your actions.

You stared at your feet, black vans reflected against tan concrete as you stood against the bus. Twiddling your thumbs and exhaling heavily, you turn to Davis as he approaches you.

"Hey, kid! Some of the guys were just thinking of exploring the botanical gardens and the zoo and maybe going for some grub, wanna come?" He smiles at you, raising an eyebrow for an inviting answer.

"Shit, bro, I'm down." You agree and smile back. It was the first day off in over a week and you were grateful for it. You were looking forward to moments with Noah, but you also needed to get out and do something else for once.

As you and Davis caught up with the group, consisting of both you two, Ruffilo, Noah, Matt, and Jolly (the rest went off to do other things), you could hear their jesting and cackles even from a ways back.

"Morning guys!" You say, smiling and out of breath.

"Hey (Y/N)!" You were greeted by multiple of them.

Noah turned, walking backwards. "Hey, (Y/N)," he smirks lazily, waving his hand, drawing his eyes over you subtly and licking his lips.

You huff, catching his eyes and offering a suggestive smile. "Hi, Noah." He smiles back at you, and then turns back around to continue walking. You admire his long, toned frame as he took smooth strides forward.

All of you thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing and wondrous vibes of the gardens and the culture of the city. Having been walking and exploring for over 2 hours, you all decide to pause your activities for a bit of lunch.

"What should we eat? I'm starving, man," Ruffilo comments.

"Hmm. Haven't had Chipotle in a while," Davis replies.

"How about sushi?" Matt adds.

You're silent. Honestly, you're so hungry, you don't even care what you guys eat. Anything sounds good.

Noah steps up beside you. "Sushi sounds fuckin' fantastic," he agrees.

When the others aren't paying any attention, Noah leans into your ear quickly and quietly, "I'm hungry for something else, though."

You almost gasp when he leans away, giving a quick caress to your ass while the others are walking away. He casually smirks at you, continuing to walk in the direction of the Japanese sushi bar on the corner.

Your face felt hot, and you were fighting the frustrated blush that crept up your face. You were nearly hyperventilating and you couldn't help it. You took a deep breath of the next gust of Georgia wind that caressed your face, composing yourself and catching back up with the group.

"Fuck, this hits the spot dude." Matt comments, and you're nodding along with the rest of the guys.

"Hell yeah."

You're all sitting at the table, a whole boat of sushi in front of you and then some. Ruffilo is sipping on sake while all of you make small chit chat.

"Hey! Ruffilo! Let me try some of that," you say.

"Ever had sake?" Ruffilo says.

"No," you state, taking the small white cup from his hands.

"What!" You hear half of the table exclaim, with pleas of interest in you trying the drink.

You slowly take a sip. Instantly the taste of the Japanese alcohol hits your tongue and you're writhing. "Yuck! Oh! That's revolting!"

Cracks of laughter erupt from the table. Soon, you are laughing as well.

"That's enough of that," you joke.

After lunch, you all go shopping and walk around downtown. After several hours of being out and having free time the whole day, it was time to return to the hotel that was booked for the night. In the morning, you would quickly pack up and shuffle back onto the bus for Orlando, Florida.

Walking away from the bus with a suitcase in hand and backpack over your shoulder, you step into the hotel. You stop at the front desk to get your keycard from the receptionist.

"Room for (Y/L/N), please."

"Ahh," she pauses, typing on her keyboard. "We don't have a room here, I'm afraid..."

You frown. "All of these rooms should have been pre-booked," you state. Your mind frantically searches for a solution. You begin to list the several names of the other crew members and band members, but most were already in their rooms. You thought of one more name.

Oh, you thought. He didn't!

"There may be another name," you try. "Sebastian?"

The receptionist, looking mildly annoyed now, huffs and types in the name. You ignore her annoyance, watching patiently. A look of resolve crosses the receptionist's face. You feel hopeful.

He did.

"Hmm," she says. "It appears one more keycard is available for this room. Just sign this document and you may have your keycard."

You fill out the appropriate paperwork, signing on the line. The receptionist pulls the paper back to her and slides the keycard across the counter. You exchange your thanks.

"Room 207, 3rd floor." The woman tells you and turns away.

You don't waste anymore time. As you walk down the hall to the elevator, the smirk on your face grows 10 miles wide, confidence enveloping you.

You knew exactly why he'd done it, and frankly, you weren't about to protest. Your heart slams into your chest with every sound of your heels and the roll of the suitcase wheels on the carpet.

You take a deep breath as you step onto the elevator.

207.

The silver numbers glint as you stand parked in front of the door. He was inside there already, waiting for you to come in. You exhale shakily as you grip the door handle, and you hesitate.

Closing your eyes, you begin to smirk. This is what you've been fiending after for several weeks. Taking another deep breath, you slide the keycard into the door.

The lock clicks and you twist the handle, allowing yourself into the room.

You analyze your surroundings. One lamp is on in the dimly lit room. A small walkway leading into a rather spacious double bed. There was a desk to the left, and a mini kitchen straight ahead. The bathroom immediately to the left. Without paying further attention, you walk to a bed and set your bag down on it.

You didn't seem to notice Noah, maybe he'd left the room for something. You shrug, bending over to open up your suitcase and lay it out.

Without you noticing, Noah slips out of the bathroom and leans against the wall, examining the rear view you're giving him.

"Well, well, already bending over? Princess, I haven't even taken off your clothes yet," Noah chuckles darkly.

You swear you jump 10 feet into the air, yelping loudly. If he hadn't scared you, his words would've gone straight to your core. "Noah Sebastian, for crying out loud!" You laugh and smack his shoulder. "Don't do that!" You both share a chuckle.

You can feel Noah decreasing the distance between you two and your laughter begins to fade. Noah's eyes flutter over you, landing on your eyes, your mouth, your breasts, feeling overwhelmed pleasantly.

You found yourself licking your lips. You begin to turn away.

Faster than the flick of a wrist, Noah's hand shoots up, gripping your jaw and squeezing your cheeks together. You are both silent, the tension shooting higher than ever.

You go to grab his hand and you are immediately caught by his other hand. He grips your wrist tightly, but not painfully. Noah's eyes change into dangerous slits and a playfully evil smirk takes over his features.

"The way that you have been torturing me has been driving me insane," Noah whispers into your ear. You want to collapse on the spot.

He begins walking you slowly backwards.

"You've been such a fucking brat, too, getting me hot for you at the worst times..." His hot breath fans your face, your own breath quickening in pace.

"The only thing I can think about is how I'm going to having you praying to me when I'm done ravaging you." You feel your hips hit the desk behind you.

"Noah..." you whisper.

He pulls at your face until you're eye to eye with him. He chuckled darkly.

"That's my fucking name," he growls into your ear. "And you're never going to forget it."

His hands leave your face and your wrist. Gripping your hips, he lifts you onto the desk and shoves you on it. He pulls you against his own hips, and his left hand rises to tangle in your hair.

Noah's cologne invades your senses, addicted to the scent. He tugs at the strands, inflicting a raspy moan from you. "How beautiful," Noah mumbles, helping himself to your inviting lips.

You both kiss as if life were going to end. His fingers flex against your clothed hips, pulling at your shirt and caressing you. Your tongues slipped against each other, nipping and suckling at each other's lips.

You wrapped your legs around Noah's hips, pulling him closer. Noah pulls away from your lips. Smirking, he pulls up your shirt with ease and tossed it away somewhere on the floor behind you.

"Such pretty, pretty tits..." he drawls, giant hands cupping them and he flicks a nipple. You gasp. Noah moves up your body, leaning over to envelope a taut nipple into his warm mouth. He flicks at it with the tip of his tongue and you moan quietly.

He pops off of you and smirks wickedly, and feigns a look of concern. "Is that just too much pleasure for you? Should I stop?"

"N-no! No, please, don't stop," You almost choke.

Noah stands. His bulge is prominent against his sweatpants and you almost drool. It seems so big and you can't focus on anything but the need you feel. Your core is hot and you squirm.

"Such a needy fucking slut." He pulls your body forward, running a hand oh-so-low but not enough.

You mewl as his fingers creep to your covered pussy and slowly tease the bud.

"Mmm.." you groan and Noah chuckles.

"Like that, babygirl?"

You nod.

"Too bad." Noah stops and you whine. "Enough of that. Strip,"

"Yes, sir."

Noah chuckles. "Such good manners for me. So desperate."

By now, you're a puddle of pleasure and you want it to swallow you whole. Noah sits on the edge of the bed as you peel your pants off your shaking legs. You remove your panties, tossing them aside.

"So pretty," he comments. "Come here and lay across my lap."

You obey, positioning yourself across his lap.

"Before we begin, is this something you're okay with me doing to you?"

"Absolutely," you confirm. "I can take it."

Noah hums in understanding. "Such arrogance. You will learn."

His hands begin to touch and caress the flesh of your behind, shaking the cheeks and watching them jiggle with satisfaction. He rubs in slow circles. His hand leaves your ass, forming a cup-shape, and crack.

The first spank stings, and you gasp out. His hand returns to rub the welt.

"Here's how this is going to go. You will get five spanks for our first time. This is your punishment for being such a slut," he rubs slowly. "If you fail to complete the spanking, I'll fuck your mouth. I won't stop if you choke or gag."

You whimper and nod your head.

"I'm glad you understand. If you succeed, princess, I'll have a taste of you for myself."

You mewl, squirming in his lap. "Now, now," he warned you. "Count for me." You nod frantically, wanting so desperately to please him. Although, you wouldn't complain if you failed the test.

The first two spanks were easy. His hand fell on tandem and you dutifully stated each number with each gasp and whimper he pulled from you. You really didn't think you could fail, how could you? Sure, it stung a little, but you could handle it.

As "three" fell from your lips, the usual soothing rub came to ease the sting.

"Everything okay, princess?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I proceed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," he whispered, making you squirm. He chuckled darkly. He pulled apart your cheeks, and leaned down. "Mmm, princess... so wet for me. Oh, I bet you're just aching. Let me help you..."

Noah dipped his fingers in between your legs. His fingers slid between the wet folds and you jolt. His other hand keeps you still and you're left victim to his merciless tease. He softly rubs into your wet heat and you're left mewling against his leg, head hanging.

Noah rubs the tip of his middle finger into your clit. "How's that?"

You nod frantically, unable to speak against his onslaught. At your response, he removes his fingers from your heat and resumes the next spank. The fourth spank is rougher and harder than the last.

"F-four!" You cry out, struggling to hold the composure that remained. "P-please, Noah, I--"

"Hush," he demanded. He caressed the welt, the red marks on your ass much to his liking. "One more for me, princess. You can do it."

Without any warning, Noah's fingers slip once again against your heat. Only this time, he doesn't relent. He teases and pinches your clit and you squirm, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Noah slides his fingers up to your entrance and sinks one finger inside of you and you moan.

"Noahhh, this isn't fair!"

"Be quiet, and don't you dare cum, or you lose," he threatens, and you obey with whimper after whimper as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

He adds another finger, and begins assaulting your clit with the other hand. You're an absolute mess against his lap, his fingers scissoring inside you and rutting against your g-spot. Bliss and pleasure overwhelms you, getting close to the brink as Noah's fingers continue to pump into you, faster and harder.

Your whimpers begin to form into cries, pleading for him to let you cum. Your eyes begin to roll back and you're trying to push back onto his fingers to get more from him.

"You like that baby?" He whispers in your ear. "Gonna cum?"

You nod, mouth agape. Noah smirks and removes his fingers entirely. You groan in frustration, and, as sly as he is, catches you off guard with the fifth and final spank.

Your brain almost can't comprehend the pleasure your body feels, the sting sending you into shock and you almost forget your task.

"F-f-five..." you stutter.

His large, long hands caress both cheeks of your ass and a kiss is planted onto the red welt on the swell of it.

"You're such a good, good girl, princess. I'm impressed. Good job," Noah praises you. "Lay down on your back for me."

You slowly get up and crawl onto the hotel bed mattress and lie down on the cushiony pillows.

"Spread your pretty legs, don't be shy."

You let your legs fall apart, spread against the sheets. Noah sucks in a breath and hums in satisfaction. He crawls up the bed to you, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside as you had. Your eyes feast on the tattoos covering his body.

"God, princess, you're so fucking wet," you moan at his words and he dives in. Noah's tongue licks a wet stripe up your core from your entrance to your clit. You cry out, hands immediately finding his hair. Noah hums and you quiver, the vibrations stimulating you.

He licks into your folds with fervor, as if he hadn't eaten all day. His tongue dances and pokes at your entrance, pleasure spiking and you're squirming against his mouth. Noah laps at your clit, boldly taking the bud into his mouth and sucking at it. He then takes it into his mouth, swirling the sensitive area against his tongue, dancing in circles.

"Noah!!" you cry.

You arch your back, eyes rolling back as you grip his hair and pull, and he groans. Noah adjusts his position, shoving your legs up and he dives deeper into your pussy. He shoves his tongue up into it, swirling it and shaking his head like a rabid dog. You're practically crying out, thrusting against his face and leaving it a wet mess.

Offering you his fingers again, he dives against your clit once more, nipping at it and sucking it; this time, he aids his mouth with his fingers. Thrusting two digits in, his long fingers find your g-spot again. He mercilessly pokes at it, unrelenting with his tongue and fingertips. You're moaning and a mess and it's almost too much.

Your eyes see nothing but stars in the back of your head and you're moaning loudly. You cum and rut onto his mouth. "Fuck, fuck," you gasp.

Noah pops off of your pussy. "Tastes... so good..." he gasps. "I want more."

"I want you so bad, Noah," you whine. "I want you to fuck me."

"What a dirty mouth," he comments, stinking a finger in your mouth as he caresses your jaw. You wrap your lips around his finger and lock eyes with him. You suck and lock eyes with him. He smiles, and removes his finger.

Noah removes his pants and slides his boxers down his slim legs. The only thing you can do is lay there, mouth agape at the beautiful artwork before you. You bite your lip, you just can't wait.

He comes back to you, and you gasp in surprise when he forces your legs against your chest. Noah captures his lips in yours and lines his cock up with your entrance. He wastes no time in sinking in slowly. Due to your wetness, he slides in easily and sinks in as far as he's able. You're both gasping and long moans escape from your mouths and the intense heat between each other's legs.

He begins to move slowly, enjoying the teasing ways your walls grip his cock, threatening to take him deep.

"Fuck, baby... your pussy is just so fucking wet..." he mumbles. A low groan erupts from him, eliciting a moan from you.

His pace begins to quicken and he ruts in deeper. He just can't help himself when you give him the go-ahead by moaning louder.

Pretty soon, the room is filled with explicit sounds from the two of you. The sound of skin slapping fills the room and you're moaning. You're both mumbling the dirtiest phrases to each other, getting each other hotter and higher.

"Fuck" is the only word you chant as he thrusts into you like his life depends on it. He's fucking you hard and unforgiving.

"This pussy is mine," Noah growls into your ear, and you moan.

"Noah!!" You cry as his pace picks up, desperate and greedy. Skin slaps skin, near stinging, relentless. You can't help it when you cum, creating such a sinful sight for Noah as your wetness coats your legs and his cock.

He growls. "Fuck, I'm not done with you yet!" He pulls out and turns you over into doggy, pushing your stomach down and pulling your ass into the air.

He enters you again, finding his rhythm. Pulling you back against his hips in every thrust.

"Take me, take me, take me," you cry out.

Noah groans, picking up his pace. He twists his fingers into the strands of your hair, pulling your head back. He pounds into you, and at this angle the pleasure is overstimulating as his cock hits your spot over and over. He pulls you further back, forcing you to rise to your hands, the pace unforgiving and tears fall down your cheeks.

"Noah!" You cry once more.

Juices run down your legs as you cum one more time, but Noah doesn't seem to be done. You're worn out and fucked into bliss, drooling against the pillow. You can't think and your voice is hoarse.

He groans loudly, letting you know he's almost ready. You push back on his cock and he growls. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing gently, he begins fucking in quick ruts. "Fuck, princess, (Y/N)!"

He pulls out of you, his cock glistening and pulsing as his cum shoots out in pearls against your stomach. You moan, but Noah isn't done.

His hand goes to your clit and he smirks. You cry out at the fast quick pace he uses on you, his fingers insert inside of you to smash against your g-spot in one final assault.

"Cum, (Y/N), one more for me," he insists. He doesn't stop, and quickens his pace.

"Noah, please!" You beg, too overstimulated and sensitive.

He doesn't listen, yet urges you towards an orgasm that feels like a tsunami coming for you.

It happens before you can stop yourself, your cum coming out in such a powerful wave that you squirt a little, making such a mess.

This absolutely pleases Noah and he smiles. "Perfect." He kisses your cheek. "You are wonderful." He praises.

You both lay there, panting and laughing, praising one another.

"Shower?"

"I think so."

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #noah smut #the Shower Scene Noah

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houserautha · 27 days

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This Body, This Flesh

Summary: You thought what you wanted more than anything was for Feyd-Rautha to return from the dead. You were wrong.

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: mentions of fighting and death, angsty, some kissing

A/N: Dune Wiki describes a ghola as, “an artificially created human, who was replicated from a dead individual”. When I first read about a ghola in “Dune Messiah” (I’m reading the series for the first time, like a bandwagon fan) I thought it posed so many interesting possibilities and unnecessary angst😂😈 Excuse any inaccuracies

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

You had been there when Paul Atreides slipped the crysknife into the soft flesh of his jaw and into his skull.

So then why was he standing in front of you?

Your knees quiver. Was your mind playing a trick on you? Perhaps your grief had warped your sanity. You close your eyes, shake your head as if to dislodge the vision.

“Go away,” you choke out. “I know you’re not real.”

The Feyd-Rautha — if it could be called that, he certainly was a figment of your imagination — tilts his head slightly in a move purely reminiscent of your lover. “You are not pleased to see me,” he rasps, the same voice you heard when you could not sleep, haunting your dreams.

You feel the burn of tears behind your eyes. You close them. “Of course I’m pleased to see you. But you — you’re not real.”

“Maybe not as I once was.”

In the distance, the sound of fervent footsteps slapping the ground, accompanied by panicked breathing, force you to open your eyes. It’s a servant. A young one, wide-eyed and reddened, either by shame or exertion or both.

“Lady Y/N, my humblest apologies —”

You snap at him, “What is this?”

“Lady Y/N —”

“I am a gift. For you,” Feyd-Rautha says. His dark eyes are unsettlingly familiar, studying you as you grapple for a response.

“What is he…?” Your eyes flicker to him, then back to the servant, “…it… talking about?”

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest. This morning you lay awake, blinking the sun and tear-prompted crust from your eyes, and thought only of seeing Feyd-Rautha again. And now he was here. Your mind refused to cooperate with your battling emotions, waging war within you.

“I was supposed to explain, Lady Y/N. I apologize. I tried to stop him but he insisted on coming here straight away.” The servant shuffles his feet. “I-I couldn’t outrun him. He is a gift. A ghola. From the Bene Tleilax.”

A ghola.

Of course.

The foolish, childish hope that the real Feyd-Rautha had miraculously been resurrected slowly wanes, slipping through your fingers. Your chin wobbles as devastation seizes you.

The servant, mistaking your stunned silence, eagerly adds, “The Baron wanted you to have him.”

You offer a stiff nod. “Thank you. You may leave us.”

“Should I extend your gratitude to the Baron?”

“No.” On a different occasion, you might’ve ripped the boy’s head from his neck for proposing such a thing and implicating your rudeness. “Leave.”

The servant scurries away.

Feyd-Rautha is watching you closely, but does not speak.

You, on the other hand, are afraid that if you don’t you might tear apart at the seams. “How…How much do you remember?”

The urge to cross the space between you to touch him, to touch the fatal spot where the knife had slid in, robbing you of him, is too strong. You hope he doesn’t notice you staring. To refrain from indulging in the urge, your hands clench into fists at your sides.

“Not much,” the ghola admits. “Just…fleeting glimpses.” His gaze sweeps your surroundings, landing on you in almost a pleading way, like he’s hoping that you will give him answers. “I needed to come here. To you.”

“This was our room,” you tell him. You hesitate. “Do you remember me?”

“You’re Lady Y/N.”

Disappointment stabs at your heart. “You don’t.”

Feyd-Rautha — no, the ghola (you mustn’t let yourself think of them as one and the same) — shakes his head. “No.”

A strangled sob escapes from you unwittingly, and you turn away.

A gift? No. This was the most severe punishment: The man you loved returned to you, but with no memories of the life you shared, none of the substance that had initially captivated you about the na-Baron. The voice, the features — every goddamn look and gesture, but nothing more than a Bene Tleilax puppet.

“I may not remember you, but something in this flesh does.”

Hope flutters traitorously in your chest. “What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” The ghola takes a tentative step toward you. “I may not recall the memories of your past together but this body standing before you, this flesh, carries the echos of your bond. In this physical form, I am a testament to the love you once knew, a vessel for those memories.”

Moved by the ghola’s admittance, tears flow freely down your cheeks now. “You kept saying…you. Not our.”

Of course he didn’t. Why did you mention it?

“Yes.” His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh bitterly. “Don’t apologize. Feyd never would’ve done that.”

Feyd-Rautha — what remains of Feyd-Rautha, anyway — flashes you a look of regret. Guilt. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Lady Y/N. I can leave.”

“No, please, don’t,” you say. You scrub the tears from your face, embarrassed by the display of vulnerability. “None of this is your fault.”

“May I come in?”

He had been standing in the threshold of the doorway, reminding you of the many times that Feyd had done the very same thing, discussing battle strategy and politics and even lovemaking. You avert your gaze and wave him in, hoping he didn’t see the sudden blaze of your cheeks.

However, you notice him stride past in your peripheral identically to your lover and settle on the edge of the bed. To keep yourself from further jabs of pain, you feign an interest in the view outside the window, fingers tapping restlessly on the pane.

“What was he like?” The ghola asks finally.

“You don’t know?”

You pose the question carefully, hopefully in a manner of nonchalance. What would the ghola think of their bloody origin? It must be terrible to belong to someone else entirely. Especially someone such as Feyd, who answered with his blade faster than he asked questions. A man with no restraint, no fear, and until the very end, no consequences.

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the images of his final moments.

“I’ve seen…things. I was hoping that you would be able to elaborate.”

“Don’t you want to be your own person?”

“What do you want me to be?”

An innocent enough question. You swallow. “I want you to be someone who is gone.”

The flow of the conversation brings you to face him, reflexive, and the action pains you all over again. “I’m sorry, this is incredibly hard for me.”

His chin dips. “I understand.”

He rises to his feet and starts toward the door. Without thinking, you chase after him. You’ve let your emotions get the better of you and, before you know it, you’ve pulled him against you.

Fuck, he even smelled just like Feyd.

You find that everything is the same as you remember it, your muscles moving all on their own, pushing you up on your tiptoes and your lips on his.

He embraces you then. Immediately. Without any awkwardness or hesitation, and it’s just enough to make you forget that it’s not him.

The kiss is wild, desperate, full of unspoken things that you wish you could’ve told him as he bled out before your eyes. Pleasure uncoils from inside you like a snake seeking the warmth of the sun, slipping out from the darkness and into the light.

Feyd-Rautha grabs hold of your waist and together you stumble backwards, unable to differentiate where he began and you ended. He pushes you against the wall as your kiss deepens. Your hands rove his body — the slope of his shoulders, the plane of his chest, the ridges of scars from past fights that are only all too familiar to you. A thought emerges, unbidden:

This ghola had never been in those fights.

Couldn’t retell the story of each one affectionately the way Feyd did, as if they were done by a lover’s touch and not the blade of an enemy.

You plant your hands on the ghola’s chest and shove. Hard. The heat in your belly, unable to separate what you were feeling from what you knew, rebels against this, the absence of his touch. You have half the mind to reach out and pull him into you again.

The ghola just stares.

“This is wrong,” you manage to gasp. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

His lips swollen by your kiss, the ghola stammers, “I-I didn’t —”

“You should go.” An indescribable pain crashes over you, dragging you into the depth of its severity.

He nods once. Then again.

The ghola brushes past you to leave and every fiber of your being screams at you not to let him go. But you don’t listen. Instead you wait until he’s gone, ensuring that he’s not coming back, and then collapse to the ground on your knees.

You mourn the man you loved. You mourn the person you were before. And you mourn the fact that this ghola has taken from you the opportunity to mourn.

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

#dune #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #angst #ghola

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floralpascal · 1 year

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Firsts & First Names

Summary: In a night full of firsts with you, you accidentally slip and say Ghost's real name for the first time. His reaction to it surprises even him.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), edging, a hand on a throat but not really choking, secret relationship, little hints of agonizing over feelings, fluff

A/N: This was so difficult to write but, man, am I happy with how this turned out.

This series: Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

“You can take it, love. Just like that.”

You only moaned in response, your upper body melting farther into the mattress. Ghost had you on all fours as he pounded into you from behind, his hard grip on your hips holding you in place as he ruined you. He had kept you like this for hours now, bringing you to the brink over and over again, but never letting you fall over that precipice to find your release.

“P-please,” you begged, your words so slurred he could barely make out what you were saying. “Let me… let me come, I-”

In all your time together, he had never seen you like this. A sheen of sweat drenched your skin from the exertion, gleaming on the small of your back as you arched your ass back towards him. Your hair was wild from the sweat and hours he had fucked you in all different kinds of positions. Small, high whines escaped you with almost every thrust of his cock into you. Even so, you still reached for him and leaned into his every touch. You were fucked out of your mind, begging for him over and over, begging for him to let you come. You usually were never one to beg like this, to let him fully take the reins. Now you had completely let go.

He would be lying if he said that the sight of you like this wasn’t absolutely maddening. You were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. The trust you had in him, all the noises you couldn’t hold back anymore, and the way you begged for him to give you your release all had him feeling like he was floating in a sea of ecstasy.

“You can take a little more,” he assured, his voice low and breathless as he soothed you again. He fought to stave off his own high, but he had done well so far and still had quite a bit more time to go before he would break.

“Fuck, Simon, please!” You cried desperately, twisting the sheets tighter in your fists.

His lust-clouded mind took an extra second to catch up with what you just said. Suddenly, the air was punched from his lungs as he finally processed it. He froze immediately, his cock still buried deep in your heat.

Simon.

You had never called him Simon before. Ever.

Simon. Simon. Simon. He replayed the way you said it over and over, the sound unlike any he had heard before. You had said it like something good. Like he was someone you needed.

When you called him Ghost and he called you Styx, there was some degree of separation, a barrier between the two of you. You both could pretend this wasn’t anything real. By that logic, he hadn’t wanted to get to the point where you both used your real names because that would mean that this was real. He had wanted to keep this between Ghost and Styx — impersonal and no strings attached. Up to this point, he could pretend that it was impersonal. He could pretend that this wasn’t already something that had long surpassed that point. He had thought he wanted nothing more than to avoid hearing you say that one name.

But now that you had said it, a new heat burned in his stomach. All his previous resistance melted in its wake, his cock aching like never before. There was no logic or reasoning he could muster that could overpower the way his body practically lit on fire the second you said his name, almost like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning.

He liked it. He craved it. Even though he knew somewhere deep down that shouldn’t have, he would do anything to hear you say it again.

You pushed up on your forearms, turning your head so that you could see his almost completely covered face. Although they were still clouded by a thick haze of lust, your eyes were wide and panicked. Another first, he had never seen you this panicked, your demeanor never anything but calm and assured. It wasn’t hard to see that you clearly thought that you had crossed a huge line.

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean to-”

Before you could finish your apology, his rough, callused hands were sliding over your hips, wrapping around your middle, and pulling your top-half up so that your back met his chest, the both of you now in a kneeling position.

Simon took your chin in his fingers, guiding your face to him before he crashed his exposed lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, clearly caught off-guard by his response. He worked his lips against yours, his fervor increasing with each passing second.

It wasn’t Ghost that kissed you now. That barrier, that persona, had crumbled away the second you said his name. No, it was the man under the mask now. While he still wore the mask over most of his face, he felt truly exposed to you for the first time.

He broke from the kiss, his lips still against yours. His hand slid down to your throat, his grip light. Aching with adrenaline and lust, he pulled his cock almost completely out of your dripping pussy before fucking up into you again with a sharp, pointed thrust that knocked the wind out of you as you cried out. He began to piston in and out again, restarting his pace.

“Say it,” he rasped, more a request than a demand. Now, he felt as if he was pleading with you. “Say it again.”

One of your warm hands wrapped around his tattooed forearm that held a soft grip on your throat, using him as an anchor. You tossed your head back so that it rested on his strong, broad shoulder, your whole body relaxing into him again as you realized that your slip had caused the opposite effect on him than you had first thought. This is how he wanted you, fully blissed out in his affections.

“S-Simon. Simon, please. Yes!”

Heat pooled in his abdomen as his speed increased. The force of his thrusts rocked the both of you, the bed groaning with the impact. He was totally gone now, all thought of edging you long forgotten. Now, he was all fervor and impulse, any rational thought long swept away in the thrum of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He needed you to come and he needed you to take you with him as fast as possible.

Then, without a care for the serious consequences that would follow, Simon moaned your real name for the first time. It rolled off his tongue like honey, like it had always belonged there.

You melted into his strong body, letting him hold the both of you up as you neared your highs. All the while, you continued to moan his name, sometimes a barely comprehensible whine. But it was enough. It was more than enough.

Suddenly, your body went rigid in his hold as you arched into him. Your cunt clenched and pulsed around him as you came, so tight that he moaned himself. He kept fucking you though it, helping you to ride out the aftershocks as he started to chase his own high.

You clawed at his forearm. While you writhed in his hold, you snaked a hand around behind you to lightly grasp at his neck, overstimulated but still holding on. It silently told him that you wanted to feel him when he came.

“Si… Si-” you sputtered.

As he fucked up into you, his hips snapping roughly against your ass, he began to feel the edge of his release. The force of it grew and grew until he couldn’t hold it back anymore, his pace faltering. His hips stuttered as he released his hot, thick cum into your spasming cunt. He buried his covered face in your shoulder as he grinded into you, releasing every last bit he had. Body shuddering, he fought to find his breath again, the orgasm longer and more intense than any he had ever experienced.

After he came back down from his high, he found you completely relaxed in his hold, spent from the hours you had spent taking him.

Simon kissed your neck, then your cheek, and then your lips, moving his hands to better support your midsection. He whispered against your warm skin, his voice gravelly and spent, “Did so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your chest still heaved for air as you leaned into his touch, making a tired, affirming sound.

Bracing his hands on your hips, he slowly and carefully pulled out of you. He held back a hiss as he did, listening instead to your whine. When you were ready, he helped guide you down to lay on the disheveled bed. Then he slid next to you and pulled you close, still left in the afterglow.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you both caught your breath in silence. For the first time, he felt your hand slide over his chest, your thumb lazily and affectionately stroking his skin. This was you. Without the added layer of Styx. The barriers of both of your personas were gone. Now, you were just as bare as he was.

Maybe this development should have scared him. Maybe he should’ve been worried about what this would mean for the two of you. But he didn’t. The worst part was that he didn’t think he would in the morning, either. Not when being with you felt like this. He now had a taste of what it was like and it was nothing short of addicting.

He couldn’t quite comprehend how you always seemed to break through the barriers he put up. No matter what front he used, you had a way of pulling him further and further into this anyways. He always fell deeper no matter what, throwing his previous hesitancy out the window. Whatever this was with you kept growing, kept becoming something more… and he didn’t know if he could stop it now.

More. He always wanted more.

He wanted this, he wanted you. Maybe if it weren’t for the dangerous life you lived and the ranks you held, it would’ve been easier for him to admit that. Maybe then the thought of a real relationship with you wouldn’t have been such a terrifying, weighted thought even now.

“I’m guessing you liked that, then,” you said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you.

“I can’t quite deny it, now can I?” he quipped, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

You laughed a genuine, carefree laugh, burying your face on his muscled and scarred chest. The sound filled his chest with a new warmth, one that was soft. He held back a small smile as he used his free hand to gently pull his mask down over his chin once again. Then, you looked up and said, “Yeah, not really. You really showed your hand on that one, Simon.”

He groaned, his cock twitching. He limply tapped your hip as he warned, “Fuck, don’t say it, I’ll get hard again. And I don’t think you can take another round, love.”

You laid your head on his chest then, completely limp over top of him. “No, I don’t think I could.”

Though he didn’t say it again, he let your name bounce around in his head. Over and over again, he considered it, looking down at you as he did.

Simon’s fingers found your back, running lightly up and down your spine. For the first time, he didn’t let himself ruin the moment. He didn’t think about the fact that he shouldn’t have let this evolve into something this personal. He didn’t think about the potential consequences. That was all for Ghost to reconcile in the morning. Right now, Simon focused on the way your damp skin rested on his, the steady rhythm of your breath, and the sweet glow that encapsulated you both. For now, that was all that mattered.

And for the first time, Simon stayed the night with you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley fanfic #my writing

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saerins · 2 months

Text

PREV: #003 THE FIRST RIPPLE 𖧧 #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? 𖧧 NEXT: #005 THE ICE SURRENDERS ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — there’s a lot you don’t understand about what’s going on with sae, but he can say the same about you. question is, once you both find out more about each other, will your growing feelings stay the same?

content: itoshi sae x female reader. fluff/angst. profanity, alcohol, reader is fairly straightforward here, pining, jealousy, misunderstandings. word count: 5.8k

༝༚༝༚ slightly shorter chapter this week ^_^ hehe we’re getting closer to the messier/exciting parts so bear with me heh :) mwah ily guys <3

you’re starting to learn that maybe you can’t get your hopes up with itoshi sae.

a week later, you don’t hear anything from him. you both haven’t spoken since that night he took you out. not that you’re entirely too bothered—it’s a first for you, trying to get to know someone as in-demand as sae. (you don’t count eita because you’ve known him since before the fame.)

it doesn’t help that you don’t really have anyone to talk to about this. you promised sae that you wouldn’t spill, and you’re keeping that promise. somehow, it makes you feel a little warm inside; thinking that there is some sort of intimacy you share with sae that only the two of you know.

besides, even if you could talk to eita about it, you don’t want to.

is it too quick for you to think you might fall for him?

falling for someone isn’t really in your life plans yet, especially after your last and only tumultuous relationship, but maybe itoshi sae is different. he sure seems like it.

the next week rolls around, and you still hear nothing from him. which is fine with you; you’ve resigned yourself to thinking what’s yours will be yours and not to force anything… even if you spend most of your idle time wondering if sae is ever going to post anything on his private account. did he really just create it solely because you asked him to?

you can see that he logs in to it, judging by his icon on that little viewer list in your stories. but that’s the extent to which you see him online. he doesn’t reply, or do anything much. considering his normal account is probably mainly run by his team, you guess you shouldn’t expect too much from him.

still, maybe it’s a little pathetic of you to be wearing his cap so frequently. it’s sort of become a staple piece for you, somehow. to be fair, there’s hardly any dress code in place for you to follow and considering the bulk of your workwear is mostly casual, it fits right into your style. although, after sumi pointed out one day that it’s a luxury brand and that it costs more than you would personally ever spend on a cap (even if you had the means to), you try to wear it less often. (though that seems like a waste considering it was given to you.)

“you know, you gave the boss a really good scoop, enough to last for a few months,” sumi points out during lunch, taking a lick of her vanilla ice cream as the both of you sit out on the roof, escaping the cramped office. “so why do you look so stressed?”

honestly, you didn’t even realise you did. you thought you were being normal, but it has been a while since you had a normal crush on someone, and since itoshi sae is certainly not just a normal somebody, maybe you had been acting a little off, always waiting for a text, a call even, something.

“nothing, i just haven’t been able to get a good sleep lately,” you lie, hoping that sumi won’t pry.

she doesn’t.

“hm, it’s friday today,” she hums, pondering. “maybe you should find a few of your friends, get out, let loose, you know?”

later at your desk, the clock almost striking 5pm, you think maybe you should. because as much as you love your chill friday nights alone (mainly because your mom is barely home on the weekends), you don’t think it’ll do you much good if you keep mulling over the same old thing.

but just as you’re about to go pester eita again, he gets to you first, his timing impeccable today.

there’s an aching disappointment in your chest when you realise sae isn’t going to be there. maybe it’s just the glaring difference between the life of a celebrity versus someone normal like you. his schedule must usually be packed to the brim after all.

whatever, you’ll let him come back to you on his own time. for now, all you want to do for the weekend is to spend it having fun with the guys and settling everything you need to on saturday and spend sunday to yourself.

this possible thing between you and sae, whatever it could be, can wait. you’re not in any rush. at least, that’s what your head tells you.

your heart feels something different.

it’s only the second time you’re actually hanging out with eita’s friends, but you’re not regretting it one bit. even on the day of the event they’d been welcoming to you, and tonight is no exception.

they’re all sat around the wooden table on the balcony, a ton of beer cans and liquor bottles littered across the table. you sit on the long end, on the long chair, right beside eita, sides of your bodies always pressed close together that it makes a glint form in oliver’s eyes.

he’s still curious, not out of concern but just because, about you and eita and sae and how everything is going to tie together. it’s not everyday he sees eita being okay with a girl that close to him and not complain that she’s a bother. it’s also not everyday that sae creates a private account. oliver got bored and saw one day that you were the first person he followed.

you must really be something.

“where even is sae today?” you hear sendou ask, a hiccup following suit. “i finally come over and he’s not even here.”

he’s sitting on your other side, his profile strangely reminding you of the very guy he’s asking about. maybe it’s the way his hair is a lighter shade of pink, maybe even his sharp jawline. his eyes are different though, more expressive, and universally soft somehow.

you remember how sae’s can look soft, his teal eyes turning gentle whenever you try to approach him. but it wasn’t that way when you first met him, that’s a given.

“i don’t know, said he was too tired,” oliver sighs, stretching in his seat.

“wasn’t he just with bianca yesterday?” yukimiya asks, oblivious to oliver’s glee.

it kind of stings, but you stay quiet, the alcohol slowly seeping into your system. you can feel eita leaning against you a little bit more, and his presence has always been comforting, so you let him.

sendou hums, index finger tapping against his near-empty beer can. “is that still going on? how long has their relationship status been a mystery already?”

karasu snorts, nudging sendou on the elbow. “salty just ‘cause you tried to ask her out and she rejected you?”

as you sit quietly and observe, it seems that sendou was once at an event with her too—apparently, he had asked her for her number and she didn’t even want to give it to him. and then a month later she “met sae and was all over him”, according to karasu.

with the exception of eita, who sits quietly beside you, they start a debate on whether or not sae’s finally starting to see bianca in a different light. or, as sendou points out, “maybe they’ve been a thing all along and just hid it really well from everyone.” it’s not exactly something you want to listen to, even if you are the most curious you’ve ever been about a guy, so you block it out from your ears.

but oliver leans forward, resting his chin on the liquor bottle in front of him, staring straight at you. you’ve never really noticed it but his eyes are really beautiful, the different shades of green and purple making him seem ethereal just like that.

“you’re a girl, y/n, what do you think?” he asks you, a lazy drawl in his tone.

mirroring his actions, you bat your eyelashes at him, looking innocent as ever when you answer him. “i think you guys should stop talking about that her behind her back like that,” you say, earning a raise of oliver’s brows in return. he’s surprised, to say the least, but not in a bad way.

it’s not even that you don’t want to hear about her. you’re wantonly curious, especially since you’re beginning to realise your small hint of emotions towards sae, but something tells you that these guys wouldn’t be too kind with their words if you egg them on.

karasu gives you a nod of approval that you miss before he leans back in the chair, whispering to yukimiya, “at least we all know shidou won’t totally hate y/n.” but it’s too soft for you to hear, and you probably won’t even be able to make sense of it even if you did, not with the gradually increasing level of alcohol in your system.

between intentionally drinking to not be a pathetic mess who keeps thinking about her potential love life and having to drink because you’re usually good at drinking games but not when oliver is around with the way he keeps beating you at everything, you happen not to notice a lot of things.

at one point, oliver has replaced sendou next to you, whispering snarky comments in your ear in between games. he’s not the flirting kind, at least not to you, and he doesn’t push your boundaries physically either—he’s more akin to a friend you’d love to gossip with. that’s why you don’t even think much when he tilts his camera towards you, taking a selfie with both you and eita in it.

just a normal picture of friends hanging out, oliver leaning against your legs, propped up on the chair, your own head leaning into the crook of eita’s neck, all of you evidently tipsy from the dazed look in your eyes.

what neither of you notice is oliver’s smirk as he posts the picture onto his private, betting on his target audience of one to see it.

and now, he’ll just have to wait.

one hour later, the doorbell rings and yukimiya’s eyes glance over to eita, comfortable with an arm around you, and he takes it as his cue to open the door. eita’s probably too reluctant to move and he’ll let whoever it is at the door keep at it for hours before he’ll answer the poor guy.

he’s expecting some random food delivery, maybe from karasu because he’s been whining about wanting some chicken with his beer, or maybe even shidou showing up at the last minute from his other party. but this? the person he’s staring at in the eyes right now, is the last person he expected to see tonight.

“wait, i thought you weren’t coming?” yukimiya asks, but oliver’s already shouting from the balcony.

“hey, sae, what the fuck are you doing here?” he asks from the balcony, taking a swig of his beer.

beside him, you hear sae’s name and your head immediately whips around to look at the door. there he is, looking tired as ever but he’s there, in the flesh, dressed in all black, jacket and sweats, teal eyes finding you from all the way across the house.

sae wordlessly walks past yukimiya, the latter following behind him, still shocked that he’s even present. sure looks like sae always means it when he says he wouldn’t come to gatherings like these.

when he gets to the balcony, earning a cock of oliver’s brow, sae tilts his head, “i was invited, wasn’t i? what’s so surprising about that?”

oliver snickers at sae’s blatant avoidance of the question. deciding he wouldn’t get anything out of him anyway, he shrugs and accepts it. besides, he can already see that sae’s too busy trying to calculate if there’s enough space for him to sit beside you, with the way his eyes are scanning your surroundings. maybe it doesn’t help how eita’s so clingy with you, his arm still around you even when you’ve already straightened up.

both sae and eita are just staring blankly at each other, and everyone is aware of it except for you, because your head’s a little dizzy and you’re still thinking whether sae popping up here is a figment of your imagination.

you’re not that drunk, are you?

you get your answer when a shadow looms over your body, the familiar scent of his cologne wafting into your nose. he smells the same he did that night you kissed him.

“what, this seat taken?” sae asks, and you dumbly look down at the small edge of space beside you.

no, it’s not, but you’re probably going to have to squeeze between him and eita if he sits there, no more legroom. you shift anyway, eita making space (albeit reluctantly), the way sae ends up being so close to you enough to send your mind into overdrive. you’re still wondering why he showed up.

you, and everyone else. not oliver though. he knows why. and it’s not like he wants to intentionally make you cough out your feelings but it looks like the other guys who are oblivious to your feelings are steering in that direction.

“no bianca today?” karasu asks, a mocking tone in his voice.

sae doesn’t show an ounce of emotion, though. “wasn’t with her.”

“why not? scared we’re gonna make you two make out again like last time?” yukimiya asks, finally relaxing back in his seat. he says it jokingly, although you know the sentence at hand probably isn’t a joke.

“wait wait wait, you two made out?” sendou asks, incredulous, mirroring your exact thoughts.

a jealousy creeps up your spine, engulfing your alcohol-riddled distractions. some part of you wants to know what it’d be like to be kissed by him. you purse your lips into a firm line, wondering if you were being an accidental homewrecker by kissing him that night.

“it was just a game,” sae responds, making no moves to drink the beer handed to him.

eita pulls his arms away, moving in favour of getting you a drink. it’s not that he even knows anything that’s going on between you and sae, but he can tell by how you’re stiffening up that you’re probably a little affected. he slides a shot over to you, and you down it with ease.

ignoring the way the other guys keep harping on the topic, sae turns his attention to you, flicking the tip of the cap he gave you, and you shift your gaze to look up at him, the small smirk he gives you when you do making your heart flutter again.

why is it so easy for him to do that to you?

“haven’t sold my cap yet?”

you thank the heavens you’re not too tipsy to be normal. “i’m holding out for higher bids, actually,” you quip, grinning. “you can offer one too if you want it back.”

sae hums, head tilted again as he ponders while staring at you. slowly, he leans down to your ear, whispering so only you can hear him, “how much do i have to bid for you to keep it?”

maybe it’s the liquor, but you feel your cheeks heat up. it can’t be his close proximity. it can’t be the way he’s so close that you can see the beating pulse on his neck. it can’t be the way you think you look more intimate here than you should. definitely can’t be the way all the guys have noticed and are giving each other looks.

why does he even want you to keep it? is this some sort of abstract way that he’s using to tell you that you’re not an accidental homewrecker?

you make a mental reminder to yourself to never get drunk in front of sae. you don’t want to end up blurting out some less-than-decent thoughts of yours.

“what’s wrong? too tipsy now to talk back?” sae asks, and you can only pout at him, not in your usual condition to think of smart comebacks. it makes the corner of his lips tug upwards just a little bit more than usual, his hand coming up to teasingly push the cap down further—in that seemingly affectionate way he does.

and maybe it isn’t such a good idea to agree to continue to play games, not when you got roped into never have i ever and karasu, to the delight of oliver, said he has never fucked anyone at this table. seeing that only you and eita put a finger down, everyone can tell there’s probably a complicated history between you and eita. not that you owe them any explanation, though you kind of do feel the urge to tell sae that it was in the past.

you steal a glance at him beside you, the mild look of surprise befallen on his handsome face. you wonder if he thinks badly of you now. you wonder if he’ll think badly of you when he sees what your life is really like. will he think you’re just going to be a stain on his fancy life that it’ll be better off not knowing you?

or maybe… maybe he has a complicated past too. with bianca.

funnily enough, eita loses after yukimiya says he’s never had sex with more than five girls. the disappointing part is you didn’t really get to know anything interesting about sae.

“hey, you feeling okay? you can stop playing if you wanna,” sae tells you later on, after god knows how many minutes have passed and you’re already onto the next game. you don’t even know why you agreed to play two truths one dare in the first place when you know it’ll just be a shitshow for you.

over the course of x minutes, you’d managed to learn many things, some of which being that karasu and eita had shared a girl in bed, that yukimiya dared to do a body shot on oliver, that sae would consider bianca an important person to him, and that you really can’t make up your mind to go big or go home because oliver had just dared you to spend seven minutes in heaven with anyone of your choosing.

of course, you can safely choose eita and trust him not to do anything if you told him to. but on the flip side, you can choose who you really want. even if you’re not so sure he’d want to anymore.

“you can always choose me,” oliver jokes, lifting the mood. although the smirk on his face makes you question it. “i’ll definitely show you a good time.”

while you’re having an internal dilemma, karasu and sendou are in the background teasing oliver for being fake, saying that he shouldn’t be offering that if he’s already interested in miss manager.

but you snap out of it when the irritated sigh you hear out of sae somehow feels like the world is sending you a sign. in some way. you’re not sure if you’re reaching—is he bothered by oliver’s comments? and why does oliver look so smug all of a sudden?

you’re beginning to regret not being sober, you can’t figure this shit out. but what you do figure out is what you want to do. why think so much about tomorrow when the present is right here?

so you don’t pay it any more thoughts, getting up and dragging sae with you by the shirt, ignoring all the commotion left behind by the guys, save for eita who only stares blankly at you as you drag sae into his own room and lock the door.

“oh shit, sorry dude, didn’t mean to—”

“for the last time, just friends,” otoya snaps, cutting karasu off, although not even sendou believes him. for someone who doesn’t even care to treat people nicely, sendou can at least see that eita treats you a fair bit better than anyone else.

in the room, sae can only watch blankly as you stumble over your feet before finally settling on the edge of otoya’s bed. the envious, green side of him can’t help but wonder how many times you’d been here, in his room, with him. though it’s kind of amusing how you chose to bring sae in here now.

from what sae can tell, you’re probably a little more tipsy than you should be in these types of situation, and a part of him is relieved that you’re not here with anyone else. if you were here with otoya, would you be fooling around by now?

“so, thought you were too tired to show up—what happened?” you ask from where you are on the bed, body swaying slightly, eyes threatening to close.

the moment he takes a seat next to you, you lean close, your head coming to rest on his shoulder, and sae has no doubt that you’d already drank a lot before he came. proximity this close, he can smell the shampoo in your hair, can feel how soft it is.

“i couldn’t sleep, got bored, that’s all.”

your shoulders vibrate slightly as you giggle, pulling away, a suspicious glint in your eyes. “damn, and here i thought you came for me.”

even when you’re intoxicated you still have such a smart mouth. sae shrugs, his gaze turning ever so soft, like every time before when he looks at you. there’s something about you that he can’t quite place, something that makes him act so differently than he usually does, and for once he doesn’t hate it. “did you want me to?”

not taking the bait, you keep up your casual demeanour, even if your eyelids feel heavy and you’re about five seconds away from just passing right out on the bed.

“you know, it’s fine to say you missed me and wanted to see me,” you tell him, grin wide as ever, almost infectious. you’re only surviving on liquid courage right now, the way you unashamedly try to flirt. though, if sae isn’t moving away, does that mean he doesn’t mind?

he looks off to the side, pondering for a while before turning back to you with a straight face, “i missed you, wanted to see you.”

for a moment, you feel like your heart might stop.

“is that what you wanna hear?”

almost instinctively, you grab the stray pillow lying on the bed and fling it at sae, earning an amused laugh from him but you barely realise it, too caught up in the frustration that his words were just strung together to entertain you as opposed to his actual feelings.

crossing your arms, you look away, the exhaustion of the day coupled with the dread of tomorrow nipping away at your consciousness. “don’t patronise me, itoshi sae,” you huff, and you miss the way he looks at you with a smile on his face.

will you remember any of this tomorrow? you’re not drunk, but you’re not exactly thinking straight either.

“were you… very busy this past week?”

your question is voiced so softly, almost like you’re afraid to ask, and sae realises maybe he should’ve at least told you he wouldn’t be able to make it as early as he thought he would.

“yeah, i was.”

technically, he isn’t lying. he was back in japan last saturday, but maybe he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to do anything else.

“with bianca?”

it’s even softer this time, and for some reason, sae’s almost kind of relieved you’re asking. he just doesn’t know what it is.

“no, not really,” he tells you. it’s complicated, and you don’t even have context; he wouldn’t even know where to begin talking to you about it.

you put your legs up on the bed, hiding your face between your knees, and sae’s left wondering whether alcohol really makes that much of a difference. you seem bold, shy and teasing all at once. his hat is still on your head, your thoughts coming out into the open.

“are you… involved with her?” your voice is muffled, but he hears you loud and clear.

a small smile dawns onto his face, safe from your view. he doesn’t really know the implications of you asking the question, but he likes how you don’t beat around the bush. it’s nice not having to constantly guess what you really mean.

and maybe it’s you rubbing off on him, but he doesn’t answer it straight.

“curious, y/n?”

when you lift your head up to look at him, you see the widest smile he’s ever given you, objectively much smaller and way more subtle than everyone else, but it’s a smile all the same and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

“yes,” you answer honestly, because you’re not sure when exactly you’re going to pass out but you have a feeling it’ll be soon and eita’s bed is just so soft.

sae is only mildly stunned by how straightforward you are, so he decides to do you a favour. he doesn’t usually like divulging things like this; topics that bring gossip and are undoubtedly going to come back to him if it gets out. what’s more, you work for a sports magazine so you can totally use this against him, but it isn’t even that you’re intoxicated right now, but more so that he feels he can trust you with it.

slowly, he reaches his hand over, and for once he tips the cap upwards a little so he can see your eyes when he tells you, “stupid, i’m not involved with anyone.” is that clear enough for you? he’s not sure why but he hopes it is.

what does he even want with you?

the moment you hear it, you break out into a wide smile, genuine and actually infectious this time because sae feels the corners of his lips threatening to pull upwards even more. what the heck is this feeling?

“really? i’m so relieved,” you exhale, voice a little airy, looking a little too pretty that sae immediately pulls the cap back downwards. “so,” you move on, adjusting it back in position, daring to move closer to him, face so close to his own that he has nowhere else to look except straight into your eyes. “we have four minutes left. will you grant me whatever i want, itoshi sae?”

you have a habit of calling him by his full name. he makes a mental reminder to get you to change that. not tonight though, he doesn’t want you to forget.

it’s weird how he feels around you; why does he feel so overwhelmed yet want more both at the same time? he swallows the lump in his throat, keeping his composure, “depends, you’re pretty demanding, tell me first and i’ll consider.”

“itoshi sae, i’m not!” you refute, punching him playfully on the arm and he has to hold your arm to stop you from falling off the bed. “i don’t know. the guys outside are probably expecting us to fuck or something.”

there you go, unfiltered and he kind of likes it. his fingers are still around your wrist.

but the answer is crystal clear to him.

“no.”

“huh?” it takes you a while to process. given that the only thoughts in your head as of right now are only: what does sae think of you and eita? and bianca is important to him. “what if it was just a kiss?”

he hums, then shakes his head. “nope.”

“wait, am i not pretty enough for you or something?”

you’re whining and sae finds it cute of all things. you have a tendency to misunderstand, so maybe he needs to adjust how he talks to you. he’ll see. but before he can even say anything else, your head falls into his chest, your regular breathing the only sound that fills the room after. he’s perplexed and amused all at once; how did you manage to fall asleep so quickly?

contrary to your thoughts, sae has always thought you were pretty, ever since the first night he met you. even in your private account where you post yourself in hoodies too big for your body and no makeup, clad in sweats—still pretty.

sae sighs, his fingers stroking your hair now that you’re asleep, and whispering in your ear only when you’re not able to hear him.

“if i do that, i think i’ll end up wanting more.” and you’re drunk and that’s not what he really wants.

but he does give you what you ask for, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

that’ll have to do for now.

“so, nothing happened?” sendou asks, bored, as sae carries you on his back as he comes out of the room.

you’re passed out and drooling on his shoulder and he doesn’t really care about that.

“it’s sae, c’mon, did you expect something?” karasu laughs, all of them coming in from the balcony because in the seven minutes both of you had spent in the room, it managed to start raining. “maybe if it was bianca, y’know, then maybe.”

sae ignores all their passing comments, choosing to walk over to otoya, “hey, she passed out, i’m just gonna take her home.”

as much as sae isn’t particularly fond of otoya, he’s probably your closest friend here and he doesn’t want him to think he’s just going to take advantage of you.

otoya’s green eyes flicker to the clock on the wall before he shakes his head, speaking softly so the others won’t hear. “nah, just put her in the guest bedroom. i’ll send her back in the morning. you can head back first.”

there’s an irritation that builds up inside him, but sae maintains his emotionless expression, remembering that otoya knows you much more than he does. “i could just—”

“she doesn’t want to go home tonight,” otoya cuts in, a warning glare in his eyes. “trust me.”

suddenly, sae remembers the last time he met you, your swollen cheek and the way your eyes were glazed over. and he wants to ask otoya what it’s all about but this is about you, and he really shouldn’t ask someone else.

“fine,” sae concedes. if whatever’s at home makes you miserable, he won’t bring you there. “i’ll put her in there before i go.”

there’s a lot more otoya would like to ask sae, because oliver’s not the only one curious at sae’s seemingly odd behaviour. he wants to know what exactly he thinks about you, but everyone’s still around and it’s not a good time, so he sucks it up and lets it go for tonight.

as sae puts you down on the bed and pulls the blanket over you, he gets a brief flashback of the night he set bianca down in her hotel room. you’re both so similar, and yet not at all.

and when he’s about to turn and go, your fingers reach out to tug at the hem of his jacket sleeve, almost effectively making sae’s heart leap out of his chest. your eyes are still shut, so there’s no chance you’re actually conscious right now. still, your mouth opens.

“stay with me?”

sae stills. do you know it’s him? or do you think he’s otoya? either way, you and bianca really are similar, even when you’re not completely awake. so why… why are his reactions so different?

it’s not like he has anything on tomorrow, so it’s really no imposition.

before he knows it, he’s sitting on the floor, right next to where you sleep on the bed, your fingers enveloped in his palm, his head propped on the mattress, his own exhaustion catching up to him.

it’s been a messy week; trying to gather his thoughts about you every single time he’s free, having to talk to bianca and thinking about that, and then coming back just to see oliver and otoya so close to you that it bothers him a little. finding out about you and otoya takes the cake, though.

how special is otoya to you?

the question lingers unanswered as he drifts to sleep, both of you subconsciously finding comfort in the other’s innocent warmth.

the next morning when you wake up, you’re half shocked half happy to find sae where he is, sleeping there peacefully, the previous night’s exhaustion dissipating from his face.

did he take care of you last night? you can only hope you didn’t puke in front of him. that would be embarrassing.

you’d like to stay, wait for him to wake up and talk to him and make sure you didn’t say or do anything too out of line because your memory’s a little foggy, bits and pieces that you can’t quite piece together or even tell if they’re real or dreams.

but you can’t.

you remember what day it is today and reluctantly get out of bed. though, feeling a little cheeky, you quietly grab a small black marker out of the drawer, suppressing a grin as you scribble on sae’s palms, hoping he won’t wake up from this.

a couple hours later, by the time sae gets up, the bed is cold and still undone. it’s already noon, and somehow the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up is you—are you already home? did otoya send you?

but the question that pops up in the forefront of his mind when he sees otoya lazing around on his couch later on is none of that.

and to be fair, otoya has the very same question in his head.

“do you like her or something? y/n.”

otoya is the one to ask, eyes still glued onto his phone screen, typing something out. sae can’t help but wonder if he’s talking to you.

“what’s it to you?” sae asks. he can hear the snores of the other guys coming from otoya’s room.

otoya shrugs. “just curious. she’s my best friend after all.”

there’s a certain possessiveness in the way he says it that rubs sae the wrong way. still, sae supposes that if otoya’s your best friend, he shouldn’t be too impulsive with his words.

“maybe i like her,” sae says, the tension in the air getting thicker.

“in what way?” otoya still hasn’t looked up from his phone.

“same way you do.”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

otoya scoffs, both of them acting coy with one another. “bianca and y/n, huh? busy guy,” otoya sighs, tossing his phone aside and getting up, walking towards sae, hands in his pocket. both of them are staring the other down, feeling the situation out. “i think i suit y/n better, you can have bianca.”

now it’s sae’s turn to scoff, sharp eyes piercing through otoya’s own. “why don’t we let y/n decide for herself, huh?” he quips, before grabbing his car keys out of his pocket and leaving through the front door.

as he settles down in his car and turns the engine on, it’s only then that he realises the black marks on his palm.

thank you ᡣ𐭩

somehow, just one look at it is enough to ease the tension on his shoulders.

you really can do wonders.

extras !

otoya’s hostility towards sae was intentional.

sae didn’t try to wash your writing off—he let it fade away naturally.

if yn was sober, she would’ve not been as straightforward as he was in the room with sae. but she definitely would’ve flustered sae a lot more with her playful personality.

the whole time, oliver was live recounting the events of the night to miss manager, all of which are left on read.

if bianca had been there, sae would have been a lot more cautious about his actions and probably wouldn’t have acted too close to y/n.

random fact #1: otoya plays bass, used to perform in a band back in university. part of how he got so many girls interested in him but he was always with y/n which made a lot of them unhappy.

random fact #2: sae has never really been jealous before so now that he’s feeling it, he’s a lot more sensitive to it than normal people.

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi @veecynii

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x y/n #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae #itoshi sae imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #itoshi sae fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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joelsgreys · 9 months

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Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.