#which i thought i would get when i started the internship

[lyxchen]

How am I supposed to find a good routine and stay organized if every day is different??

[jaysbaefie]

the intern | pjs

synopsis: in which your constant belittling finally pushes your obedient intern too far and he decides it's time someone puts you in your place.

genre: office au

pairing: intern!jay x boss!reader

warnings: bossy!reader, bratty!reader, mean dom! jay, dubcon/noncon, forced submission, spanking, fingering, slapping, hair pulling, oral (m.rec), light breath play, rough and unprotected p in v, light choking? (i think that's it...) this fic is filthy, like so fucking filthy.

wc: 6.7k

a/n: ikik intern didn’t win the poll but i still wanted to write it as a little thank you for 1000 followers!! smth about mean dom jay and bratty reader just tickles my goddamn pickle. anyways, i am officially done with school!! that means more updates ayeeee!!! i start school early may tho so what am i rlly celebrating for.. anyways! notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy reading!!

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jay could feel his self restraint falling thin, his eyes glaring holes into the stack of papers in front of him.

he began to question if the internship was even worth it after the way you had been treating him for the last few months.

at first you were just cold, never acknowledging his presence and treating him like a nuisance rather than a human being. but then things took a turn for the worse, you had made him into your very own stress relief dummy.

taking out your frustration and anger on him whenever someone had pissed you off. someone mess up the reports that day? jay took the fall. presentations not prepared? jay took the fall. traffic on the way to work? jay took the fall.

you embarrassed him consistently, degrading and belittling him whenever you could. just take this morning for example.

the office buzzed with low conversations as the team gathered in the glass-walled conference room for the weekly status meeting.

jay sat near the front, his pulse quickening as he arranged his notes in an effort to keep his composure. today, the stakes felt even higher—he needed to impress, to prove that his dedication was more than just blind obedience. in a few weeks from now you'd be deciding who stays and gets the permanent position and who doesn't—he needed to impress you.

you swept into the room with an air of undeniable authority. clad in a sharply tailored blazer and high heels that echoed on the polished floor, you commanded every gaze without uttering a word. even before the meeting began, your presence shifted the atmosphere, the tension around you palpable.

jay swallowed harshly, his gaze scanning over your form as you step into the room. you were gorgeous, he'd give you that—but your attitude was foul. his eyes dropping to his files as he begins to mentally prepare himself for the presentation to commence.

he feels his heart drop when he realizes that the one file he so desperately needed, wasn't on the pile he had brought. jay's hands begin to shake, shuffling through the pile of files again as he hopes that it would magically appear in front of him.

he scans the large conference room table, turning to the person next to him to ask if they had seen the file.

as you took your seat at the head of the table, your eyes briefly scanned the room before landing on jay. a slow, knowing smile curled on your lips, as if you had been waiting for this moment. the meeting kicked off with a routine overview, but it wasn't long before you steered the conversation to the pending report—the one that jay was responsible for.

you fixed your gaze on jay, your tone unexpectedly sweet yet laced with a biting edge. "intern park," you began, deliberately using his given name for effect, "what exactly about 'don't speak unless spoken to' is confusing you? or do you just enjoy hearing your own voice?"

a collective murmur rippled through the room. jay's face turned a shade of crimson. he tightened his grip on his folder, his thoughts jumbling as his cheeks burned with humiliation. every eye was now on him, and he felt the weight of public scrutiny crushing his usual determination.

he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, "i—i'm sorry, i thought i had the data compiled..."

your eyes hardened, and you leaned forward, relishing the control. "thought? no, mr.park. you should have it. if you want to be useful here, you need to step up and stop hovering like a lost puppy around every minor detail." your words sliced through the silence, leaving no room for rebuttal.

the room was silent apart from the steady hum of the air conditioner and the clatter of pens against paper. jay's pulse pounded in his ears as he felt his confidence slip further with each of your calculated remarks. he could hear his internal monologue screaming for an escape, a defiant retort—but the fear of tarnishing his only shot at this internship kept his words locked away.

you weren't done. with a casual yet deliberate gesture, you waved a hand toward the clock on the wall. "i expected that report on my desk an hour ago. now, if you've managed to forget the basics of professional competence, perhaps it's time you rethink your priorities and career choices."

the finality in your tone silenced any remaining murmurs. jay's stomach churned with a mix of humiliation and a rising spark of anger—an emotion so raw that it blurred the line between submission and rebellion. the embarrassment stung, yet something deep within him shifted. in that charged moment, surrounded by his colleagues and under your steely gaze, jay realized that this wasn't just about a report or an internship. it was about reclaiming his dignity.

even as he forced a meek nod of submission to placate your immediate anger, a quiet promise echoed through his thoughts: one day, he would stand tall and show you that he was more than a pawn in your relentless pursuit of power.

as the meeting continued, the memory of your cutting words and his silent, seething response—hung in the air.

he clenches his fists as he holds in the urge to pull push the stacks of files off of his desk, his chest heaving heavily as he closed his eyes in attempt to soothe himself.

jay had been sorting through files for the remainder of the day after the meeting, per your orders.

the afternoon was unusually quiet in the office as you strolled into the small workspace where jay was already at his desk, meticulously organizing a stack of papers. he glanced up nervously as you passed, well aware that your mood this afternoon was as crisp as your tailored suit. all because of him, of course.

you held a cup of coffee in your hand, the same cup that he had left on your desk just a few minutes earlier.

leaning over his cubicle, you tilted your head slightly and said in a tone that angered him to his core, "did i stutter, jay? i said triple shot, not double. i expect my coffee precise, or should i send you to a barista school?" your words dripped with condescension, making it clear that he was the reason that your morning was ruined.

jay immediately got up from his seat, rushing to the break room with you trailing closely behind.

you scoff, pathetic.

jay's cheeks flushed as he fumbled with the coffee machine, trying to follow your instructions to the letter. he hurriedly adjusted the settings, his fingers trembling just a bit. you crossed your arms and eyed his work like a hawk. when the machine finally hissed to a stop with the coffee ready, you took a sip and pursed your lips in disdain.

"this is unacceptable," you snapped, your voice low but sharp. "i expect perfection every single time. if you can't handle the basics, perhaps you need a refresher on how to follow orders." the words hung in the air as jay's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and determination.

you turn away, walking back to his desk with jay following behind you like a lost puppy.

not stopping there, you swept past his desk and reached for a stack of files on a nearby table. with deliberate precision, you began rearranging them into neat, color-coded piles. every so often you'd glance back at jay, as if to remind him that even the simplest task had to meet your impossible standards.

"watch closely, jay," you ordered, turning back to him. "i want these files not only sorted but aligned perfectly. each folder must be exactly centered—no, better than that, flush against the left margin. can you manage that, or is that too much to ask?" your tone was both patronizing and commanding, a mix that left no room for negotiation.

jay nodded, swallowing hard. he scrambled to adjust the folders, his hands moving with a jittery urgency that mirrored the pounding of his heart. every minor hesitation was met with your sharp retort, your authority was over powering in this small corner of the office.

"if you think today's just another day to clock in and float through tasks, think again," you continued, your eyes narrowing as you circled back to his workstation. "i'm watching every move you make. understand that every detail matters, jay. perfection is not just expected, it's demanded."

the air in the workspace grew thick with tension as jay worked to correct his mistakes, each precise movement a testament to his desperate need to earn your approval. while other interns might have been emboldened or defiant, jay's focus remained solely on survival—on not letting you see even a hint of weakness.

as you finally stepped away, satisfied that the files were in proper order for now, you delivered one last cold remark over your shoulder, "good. now, i expect you to handle the rest of today without any more room for error." your voice trailed off, leaving jay alone with the echo of your words and the heavy burden of your expectations.

just as you begin to leave, you pause in your tracks—a smirk gracing your painted lips. "oh, and i want all my files sorted. you're not leaving till it's all done."

and that's how jay found himself sorting and organizing files, greeting his fellow colleges goodbye as he stayed back to finish his work. it was well past the end of his shift, the clock reading 11:04pm as he continued to sort endlessly.

only jay and you remained on the office, with you tucked away in your office typing away who knows what on your computer and jay outside getting paper cut after paper cut.

he could still hear your voice from earlier looming in his head—sweet, sharp, venom-laced in a way only you could pull off. mocking him, embarrassing him in front of the entire team. and now here you were again, heels echoing through the empty office as you strutted out of your office like you hadn't just made him stay hours past his shift for a task that could've waited until tomorrow.

"still here?" your tone was laced with faux innocence—leaning against his desk, arms crossed under your chest. "wow. and here i thought even you would've figured out how to sort a couple files by now. guess i gave you too much credit."

jay didn't look up. didn't speak. his jaw flexed once, twice, like he was chewing on his own patience.

you smiled, pleased with the reaction. "what exactly are you good at, jay? because it sure as hell isn't multitasking. or presenting. or getting coffee. i'm starting to wonder if your daddy pulled strings just to get you here. must be nice, huh? riding in on privilege and still failing."

that was it.

jay stood, slowly, the chair scraping harshly behind him as he pushed it back. his hands were planted on the desk, knuckles white, head still lowered. when he finally looked at you, there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. something dangerous. something done.

you opened your mouth to say something else, some cruel remark—but it never made it out.

"shut up," jay muttered, voice low and rough.

your brows lifted, stunned at his words" excuse me?"

jay had never dared talk back to you, taking every word, every complaint, every diss, wordlessly. jay stepped around the desk and you instinctively backed up. the smirk that had been on your face seconds ago beginning to falter.

"you've been treating me like shit for months," he said, walking you backward with each slow, measured step. "and i took it. every order. every insult. every little power trip of yours. because i thought i needed this job. i thought i needed you."

your back hit the edge of his desk and he didn't stop moving. didn't flinch when your eyes widened as he closed in. your hands gripped the edge of the table, your hands getting sweaty as you feel jay's nose brush against your cheek.

"but now?" his hands gripped the sides of the desk, caging you in as his breath fanned against your cheek. "now i think you need to be reminded of what happens when you push too hard."

your eyes widen momentarily when you see the wild look on his eyes, his nose flared slightly almost as if he was holding himself back. you scan his face, smooth and clean shaven with a small scar on his nose—his eyebrows maintained and his gaze sharp. it hurt to admit that he was in fact an attractive man, it was a shame that he was garbage at his job.

you scoffed, trying to sound unimpressed, but your body betrayed you—your breath caught, knees subtly pressed together.

"you forget your place, intern," you snapped, your voice weaker than you intended.

jay let out a humorless laugh. "no. you've just gotten way too comfortable in yours."

then, in one swift motion, he spun you around and bent you over the desk, your palms bracing the surface as you gasped. papers scattered in every direction, your heart hammering as the cold wood met your skin through your thin skirt.

you attempted to push yourself back up only for a hand to be secured at the back of your neck, pushing you back down so your cheek was planted firmly against the cool wood or the desk.

"jay—"

"quiet," he snapped, pressing down on your lower back as his hand slid up your thigh. "you love to give orders, huh? let's see how well you take them."

his voice was low, dark, threatening—but it wasn't just anger that drove him now. it was hunger. months of tension. resentment. control finally slipping from your grasp and into his.

"you want to act like i'm good for nothing?" he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. "then let me show you exactly what i'm good for."

your breath hitched as jay's hands ran slowly up your thighs, his touch rough with frustration, but precise—like he knew exactly how far to push you before you'd break. he yanked your skirt up without hesitation, the sharp sound of fabric dragging across your skin sending a jolt straight through your spine.

a low whistle cut the air, "who knew the boss wore such scandalous items to work, hm? a black lace thong? who are you trying to impress? me?" his hands fondling your butt, a whimper escaping you when he squeezes a little to hard.

you let out a scoff, "why the fuck would i want to impress a good for not—" jay's hand comes down to land on one cheek, a loud squeal leaving your mouth at the sudden sting.

"—you act so high and mighty," he muttered, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back into him. "always barking orders, always so smug. but just wait, i'll be having you—" his palm presses  firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the desk. "—quiet. obedient. and right where you belong."

"yeah ri—" you don't make it far when you feel his hands tangle into your hair, yanking roughly so the top of your head was touching his chest—your back curved almost painfully as jay held you in place.

you bit your lip hard, trying to swallow down the whimper that built in your throat. but he heard it. felt the way your body twitched beneath him.

"don't get shy now," jay growled, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as he leaned down for you. "you wanted to push me. you loved watching me squirm while you humiliated me in front of everyone. so now you're going to take it."

your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he pressed his hips against you—hard. the heat between you two was suffocating, filthy. his restraint was hanging by a thread, and you could feel the power shift in real time. you weren't in charge anymore. not here. not like this.

"jay," you gasped, your voice suddenly softer, breathier than you meant.

"say it again," he demanded, one hand sliding under your blouse and gripping your side possessively. "say my name like that again and maybe i'll be gentle."

"fuck you," you hissed, defiant till the end.

he chuckled low in his throat, dark and dangerous. "wrong answer."

his hand came down hard on your ass—once, twice—each slap sharp and biting, making you jolt. the sting blended with the burn of desire, making your head spin.

"i've had to listen to you tear me down every damn day," he snarled, grabbing your hair tighter and forcing you to arch your back painfully, exposing the curve of your neck. "now you're gonna listen to me. no interruptions. no smug comebacks. just moaning my name like a good girl."

you whimpered, the sound involuntary. your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

jay noticed. oh, he noticed.

"look at you," he muttered. "so fucking wet for the same intern you said wasn't good for anything. guess you were wrong."

you didn't respond, your pride caught somewhere between your teeth and your rapidly crumbling composure.

jay's hand slid lower again, teasing you through your underwear, slow and maddening. "what's the matter, boss? cat got your tongue?" he pushed the fabric aside and let his fingers slide through your slick folds, groaning at how ready you already were.

he lets your back relax, pushing you face down against the table again making you whine. you could feel his thick cock push against you as he continued to run his fingers down your slit.

"god, you're soaked," he breathed. "you've been wanting this, haven't you? you wanted someone to finally shut you up. tame you."

you gasped when he pushed two fingers into you without warning, curling them just right. your knees buckled, but his other arm was already gripping into your hips, holding you steady, refusing to let you escape. you shook in his hold, attempting to claw your way off the table as jay begins to push into your walls with more strength.

"you don't get to run now," he whispered, voice low and deadly in your ear. "you're going to take everything i give you. every inch. every word. every second."

he pressed his fingers deeper, curling them slow and hard while his mouth traced hot kisses down your neck.

"get away from me," you try to seethe out, attempting to turn around—your arms flailing.

jay only smirks, his fingers now pushing into you in a punishing pace. "we both know you don't want me away, __. look at how wet you are, you're dripping down your legs you filthy slut."

"fuck you," you spit, still thrashing weakly in his grip, even as your hips betrayed you and rolled back into his hand. "this doesn't mean anything—i still think you're pathetic."

jay chuckled darkly, the sound low and smug against your ear as he shoved his fingers in deeper, harder. "you think i care what you say with that mouth?" he growled, biting down gently on your shoulder. "when your cunt's already begging me to keep going?"

you let out a shaky moan, biting down hard on your lip to keep it in, but he noticed. he always noticed.

"so fucking bratty," he muttered, thrusting his fingers deep and curling them until your legs trembled. "running that smart mouth like you're still in charge. but look at you now—folding just like i knew you would."

"you're just some intern," you hissed, your voice breathless. "i could fire you right now."

"do it," he dared, slowing his thrusts until your body writhed for more. "fire me. but you're still gonna cum on my fingers first, aren't you?"

"i won't," you lied through clenched teeth, even as your thighs trembled around his hand.

"yeah?" he leaned in, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat. "then why are you clenching around me like you want me to fuck the attitude out of you?"

you hated him—hated how good he was with his hands, hated the smirk on his face, hated the way your body was betraying you, melting under his touch.

but most of all, you hated how badly you wanted to be ruined by him.

jay could feel it—you were close. your body gave you away more than your mouth ever could, the way your thighs shook, how your breathing hitched with every curl of his fingers. you were right there, teetering on the edge, your pride dangling by a thread.

"fuck, fuck—don't stop," you finally breathed out, voice cracking as your head dropped forward, hands scrambling to find something to grip.

jay froze.

his fingers stayed buried inside you, but they didn't move. not an inch. just deep enough to make your walls flutter, but not enough to push you over.

you let out a strangled noise, turning your head to glare over your shoulder. "what the fuck are you doing?"

"oh, now you want something from me?" he asked, voice full of mock innocence as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, watching your body twitch at the loss. "that's cute."

"don't be a fucking asshole," you snapped, grinding back toward him in desperation. "i said don't stop—"

"yeah, you did," jay cut in smoothly, wiping his soaked fingers on your thigh with a smug smirk. "but you've spent the last three months treating me like shit. barking at me like some entitled princess, calling me pathetic, useless—i'm just an intern, right?"

you seethed, still panting, but he was already stepping back. "you're such a fucking prick."

he let out a low chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging you upright so your back arched and your breath caught. "and you're such a fucking brat."

he yanked you away from the desk and spun you around, his grip on your hair keeping you dizzy and breathless as he forced you to your knees. the floor was cold beneath you, your chest heaving, your thighs slick and trembling—but you looked up at him with the same defiance in your eyes.

"still think you're in charge?" he asked, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. "because from where i'm standing, you're just a desperate little slut on her knees."

you tried to say something—maybe another insult, maybe a curse—but all that came out was a shaky breath, lips parting as two of his fingers pushed into your mouth.

you breathe heavily as he pushes down on your tongue, essentially tasting yourself.

"you could've cum," he murmured, looking down at you like you were something fragile and fucked up all at once. "but you don't get to cum with that mouth."

he slid his fingers out of your mouth, rubbing your saliva messily over your lips before cupping your jaw—tilting your face up to him. "you'll learn how to ask nicely," he whispered. "you'll learn how to beg."

"now open that bratty little mouth," he said, undoing his belt with slow, deliberate hands. "and maybe i'll show you what happens when you finally stop talking back."

"as if i'm going to let y—" you began, a cry escaping you when your head flys to the side. your hand coming up to cradle your red cheek as you look up at him in shock.

jay's palm was still in the air, his expression dark, unrelenting. his chest heaved once—twice—as he loomed over you, the sharp crack of his slap still ringing in your ears.

"you will," he said lowly, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "because i'm done listening to that fucking mouth."

you stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted—shock clouding your mind even as the heat on your cheek throbbed. you would've never thought, in a million years, that jay would have slapped you. it made your blood rush straight between your legs, the sting blooming into something twisted and hot.

jay crouched in front of you slowly, one hand gripping your chin—tight enough to make your jaw ache, tight enough to make you feel how serious he was.

"you think you're in control?" he sneered, thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip. "you think just because you've spent months treating me like shit, i'd always let you get away with it?"

you swallowed thickly, trying to hold onto whatever attitude you had left, but it was slipping—fast.

"you think you can call me useless, boss me around, make me beg for scraps of respect—and then what? act like you're above me when you're soaking through your panties just from a slap and a few words?"

his thumb pressed into your mouth, forceful, making you part your lips around it as he leaned in.

"go ahead," he whispered. "say something bratty again. give me a reason to make you beg for the orgasm i'm not gonna let you have."

you whimpered, eyes fluttering as your mouth opened wider around his thumb, heat blooming in your stomach despite the sharpness in his tone.

"look at you," he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb across your tongue slowly. "i haven't even fucked you yet and already, you're falling apart."

he pulled his thumb out and let it trail down your chin, slick with your spit, before gripping your hair again and yanking your head back to look up at him.

"on your knees. mouth open. hands behind your back," he ordered, belt now unfastened, hanging from one hand like a warning. "maybe if you're good now, i'll consider using your throat the way it was meant to be used."

"and if you dare bite," he added, eyes glinting with menace, "i'll remind you exactly who you belong to."

you should've hated him.

but instead, you opened your mouth—tongue out.

jay grins menacingly at your sudden obedience, his cock springing out—hitting your cheek.

"you're gonna be good f''me, yeah?" he drawls, tracing your lips with his tip slowly—teasing you.

when you don't respond he slaps his heavy dick onto your tongue, "i asked you something, sweetheart."

you mewl at the pet name, "y-yes i'll be good."

"good." and with that he pushes into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat before hes pulling out and bottoming back in again.

jay does this a few times, watching his dick disappear into your mouth before hes pulling out fully—snickering when he sees you chase for it.

he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on you as he took his time. he wasn't teasing himself—he was teasing you. dragging it out just to watch you squirm on your knees like the desperate little thing you pretended not to be.

"you've been walking around all fucking day like you run the world," he muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "snapping at me. barking orders. treating me like i'm beneath you."

he stepped closer, and your breath caught as the tip of his cock brushed your lips.

"so what are you now, huh?" he whispered. "my boss? or my personal fucktoy?"

your tongue darted out instinctively, trying to taste him—but he pulled back with a dark chuckle.

"ah, ah. not yet. beg."

your eyes narrowed, pride still flickering behind the haze, but your body betrayed you. your thighs clenched. your breath hitched. your mouth stayed open, waiting, even as your words choked out.

"...please."

jay raised a brow, pretending not to hear.

"louder."

"please," you tried again, cheeks flushed in humiliation. "i want it."

he grinned—cruel, smug, victorious.

"you want what, baby?"

your fingers curled behind your back as you bit your cheek, hating how your voice trembled. "i want your cock."

jay hummed in approval, finally guiding himself forward and pressing into your mouth. not gently. not patiently. he gave you no time to adjust, groaning low as he slid past your lips and hit the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.

you gagged, tears instantly springing to your eyes, but he didn't pull away—just groaned again and cradled the back of your head.

"fuck, that's it," he hissed. "look at you. so fucking obedient now."

he started moving—slow at first, then rougher with each thrust, using your mouth like it belonged to him. and maybe it did. maybe it always had.

your knees ached, eyes blurred, throat burning—but you didn't stop. not once.

he didn't let you.

because this was your punishment. for every eye roll. every insult. every time you called him incompetent.

and now, with spit dripping down your chin and your throat stuffed full of the intern you used to humiliate—now you were finally silent.

and jay? jay was just getting started.

his pace was ruthless and unforgiving, taking out his frustration and anger that has accumulated over the course of 3 months out on you and your mouth. his hands had created two makeshift ponytails, steering you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you slowly began to struggle for air, unable to breath out of your nose.

"aw c'mon now, sweetheart. giving up on me so easily?" jay grunts, the squelching sounds of your wet mouth and his thick cock filling the room.

you hum, eyes opening as you stare up at him with a dazed expression.

your lips stretched around him, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, chin soaked and glistening. jay growled low in his throat, his grip tightening in your hair as he snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep down your throat.

"fuck," he hissed, sweat beading along his brow as he watched your glassy eyes blink up at him. "look at you. not so mouthy now, huh?"

you gagged again, throat convulsing around him as your lungs burned, but the look on your face only turned more desperate—more ruined. there was no point pretending anymore. not when you were on your knees, completely at his mercy, submitting to him with every choke and gasp.

"this is what you needed, isn't it?" he sneered, pulling out just enough to let you inhale sharply before ramming back in. "some discipline. someone to shut that smart mouth up."

you whimpered around him, eyelids fluttering as the ache between your legs grew unbearable. your hands itched to reach for him—for anything—but you kept them laced behind your back, like he told you.

his thrusts didn't falter. if anything, they got rougher, angrier. you were his outlet now—3 months of humiliation and quiet rage spilling out with every brutal thrust into your throat.

"you use me. treat me like shit. act like i'm beneath you," he snarled, voice breaking on a groan as your throat clenched around him. "but look at you now. fucking begging for it with your eyes." jay could feel the pit in his stomach tighten, his thrusts getting deeper.

with a deep moan, jay's spilling inside your mouth—his cum painting your throat white as he forces you to stay still.

you coughed, a mixture of his cum and your spit cascading down your chest, when jay finally pulled out. your chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wild and teary, mouth hanging open and glistening.

"swallow it." you do as your told, tongue reaching out to lick away whatever was left around your mouth.

but before you could even speak, his hand cracked across your cheek again, not hard—but sharp enough to make your head snap to the side.

"you don't get to cum," he said coldly, gripping your face and forcing you to look up at him again. "not tonight."

your heart dropped, a soft, broken sound catching in your throat.

"you don't get to cum until i say so. and you definitely don't get to act like a brat and expect a reward."

you blinked at him, trembling, body aching for any kind of release, but jay just stared down at you—cock hard again and glistening, jaw tight, breathing heavy.

"i want you bent over," he muttered. "you're not done being used."

and with that, he grabbed you by the jaw and dragged you into position—because this time you weren't in charge. and he was going to make damn sure you remembered it.

you held yourself up by your forearms, sticking your ass out just the way you knew he wanted. your breath was shallow, heart racing, skin prickling with anticipation as you waited—head spinning from the shift in power you were still adjusting to.

jay stood behind you, silent for a moment. just watching. letting the tension build. letting you squirm.

"look at you now," he muttered, voice dark and low as he ran his hand slowly down your spine. "all quiet. all obedient. where'd all that attitude go, huh?"

you tried to lift your head, to say something smart, something that might tip the balance back in your favor—but all that came out was a whimper as his palm came down hard across your ass.

"that's what i thought," he growled, gripping your hips and pulling you back until you felt the heat of him against you. "you only know how to run that mouth when no one's around to shut it for you."

his hand slid down your thigh, fingers trailing dangerously close before pulling back again, teasing. denying.

"say it," he said. "say you're sorry for being a brat."

you hesitated, biting your lip, heat blooming in your chest from the humiliation—until his hand cracked across your ass again, this time harder.

"say it."

you gasped, trembling under his touch, voice barely a whisper.

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"...for being a brat."

he hummed, satisfied, thumbs pressing into your hips as he leaned down to murmur right into your ear, "good. now hold still. and maybe, maybe—if you behave—I'll let you finish."

and with one sharp thrust, he filled you—setting a punishing pace that left no room for doubt. this time, you weren't in control.

he was.

and he wasn't letting go until you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

his grip was bruising as he held your hips in place, each thrust deep and deliberate, his pace merciless from the start. your forearms trembled beneath you, struggling to keep you upright as your body jolted forward with every snap of his hips.

you mewled at the stretch, feeling his thick and heavy cock fill you to the brim as you struggle briefly to accommodate him.

"you wanted control so bad," he grunted, his breath hot against your spine as he leaned over you, still moving inside you without pause. "thought you could treat me like a joke, make me crawl for you. who's the one crawling now?"

you whimpered, back arching instinctively when his hand slid around to your throat, pulling you up just enough so your back was flush to his chest. your head dropped against his shoulder, lips parted in silent moans as he tightened his fingers around your neck—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in charge now.

"you like this, don't you?" he whispered into your ear, biting down on the lobe. "being put in your place. being used." you nodded, helpless.

"words," he demanded, his thrusts slowing just enough to drive you crazy.

"yes—" you gasped out, voice hoarse, "yes, i like it."

his low chuckle rumbled against your back. "not so cocky now, are you?"

he pushed you back down, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades as his other reached around and rubbed slow, teasing circles around your clit.

your legs shook, body coiling tight, right on the edge of release. you could feel it. jay could feel it too, your walls fluttered around his girth almost painfully—squeezing him deliciously, so he did what only made sense.

he stopped.

you choked on a gasp, hips twitching back toward him. "w-what...? why—?"

jay pulled out completely, and the sudden emptiness made your breath hitch. your walls clenched around nothing, your body screaming for friction.

"you think brats get to cum?" he asked, his voice dark with amusement, chest rising and falling as he stared down at your ruined, trembling form. "not after the way you've treated me."

"p-please," you whined, all self-respect gone, your voice cracking as you rocked your hips back pathetically, desperate for even the faintest touch. "i'll be good, i swear i'll be good..."

he cocked his head, one brow arching as his fingers traced a slow line up your spine. "yeah? you'll be good?" he echoed, mocking you.

"yes—please, i need it," you gasped, pressing your thighs together for any kind of relief.

he leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "then give me what i want."

you froze, shivering at the implication. "w-what?"

his hand grabbed your jaw again, turning your head until you had no choice but to look at him.

"you want to cum?" he asked, deadly calm. "then give me the permanent position. say it. right now. say i've earned it."

you blinked, heart pounding—half from humiliation, half from how shamefully turned on you were. "y-you're serious?"

he gave you one sharp thrust, just enough to make you moan, then pulled back again. "dead serious. i'll fuck you until you can't remember your own name—but you don't get to cum until i hear it from that bratty little mouth."

you hesitated, lips trembling. it was reckless. inappropriate. insane. but your body was burning.

"fine," you breathed, eyes glossy, your voice barely audible. "you can have it. the permanent spot. it's yours."

he grinned.

"that's more like it."

then he slammed back into you, deep and unforgiving—and this time, he wasn't holding back.

you cried out when you felt him grip your ass with two hands, making you fuck yourself back onto his cock.

"fuck, look at you. so desperate for my dick, so cock hungry," he sneers softly, relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls engulfing him and the fat of your ass pushing against his pelvis.

"s'good, j-jay," you slur out, desperate for release.

"yeah? so good? first time i've heard something good come out of your filthy fucking mouth," he snickers, fucking into you at a punishing pace.

he could feel you tighten around him, grunting when he realizes that he was just as close as you were.

"m'gonna cum," you slur. "please, let me come."

jay pants, his hands planting onto your lower back to hold you down as he fucks into you deeper—his hips snapping violently.

"yeah? you wanna cum, sweetheart? go ahead then, milk my cock."

just like that you shatter, a high pitched moan leaving your parted lips as your body convulses violently.

jay's high is just around the corner, his pace unforgiving before he himself unravels—unloading himself in you. he lets out a deep guttural moan, spilling his cum deep in you as your body twitches at the sensation.

"fuck—look at that," he murmurs, pulling out of you leaving you empty. you mewl at the feeling, body twitching as you drop your head onto the desk—no longer able to hold yourself up.

jay looks down in awe, watching his cum dribble out of your used cunt before he's swiping his digits through the mess—plugging his fingers in you to make sure you keep his seed in from spilling out.

you shudder at the feeling, to fucked out to realize what jay was doing. jay on the other hand admires the mess he has created, your behind was all shades of pink and red as his cum was spilling out of your hole like a faucet.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, "pleasure doing business with you, boss."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[booksandteaandtears]

That's your wife? sunshine version

Dr. Jack Abott x f!attending!wife!reader

summary: You started working as a pediatric surgeon at the PTMC about a year ago and people have not yet figured out that you and Jack are married because your personalities are very different

obviously a little inspired by dr. Doug Ross fighting with parents (does anyone else think dr. Robby is kinda like Mark Green?)

slightly angsty, but mostly fluff

mentions child abuse

reader gets hurt but not too badly

masterlist | thunder version

You'd always loved working with kids, working as a nanny during college and volunteering at different foster facilities. You had gone to med-school with the goal of becoming a pediatrician and after many years of internships and residency you had landed a job at UPMC Presbyterian. You'd had loved it there for years, but about a year and a half ago a position had opened at PTMC, with the chance to become Chief of pediatrics in a few years.

Initially you had wanted to turn it down. You had worked in the same hospital as Jack years ago as a resident, but had left when you kept being referred to as "Abbot's wife", instead of people seeing you as a doctor in your own right. Even though you'd kept your maiden name they seemed to link your medical abilities to your husband, and you hated it, so you'd always worked in a different hospital since then. You'd worked too hard on your career to be okay with being treated like that. Jack had been sad that you couldn't drive into work together anymore, but he respected your decision and fully supported your career.

Jack had convinced you to take the job at PTMC in the end, agreeing to keep your marriage secret except for a select few. None of the staff had questioned it so far and working at PTMC had been great. You loved the pediatrics team and the chances you had been given by performing new and exciting surgeries.

You especially loved being the on-call pedes surgeon every couple of shifts, consulting down in the Pitt. With PTMc being a level 1 trauna centre a lot of interesting cases were brought in every shift.

You knew everyone's name in the ER. They thought it was because you put in a lot of effort to get to know them, but you secretly knew because Jack would gossip about his staff with you. So not only did you know their names, but you knew that Javadi had a crush on Mateo, and Trinity had her eyes on Garcia. Sometimes you were the one delivering gossip to Jack, because you brought his nurses coffee and pastries which meant they told you everything.

Besides the treats, they liked you because you were always bright, happy and just incredibly good with children. You could calm down even the kids that McKay had trouble with. You had bright patches with dino's on your coat and had stickers for a ton of specific interests, ranging from cars to animals to TV-shows. You'd given Whitaker a sticker to soothe his feelings on more than one occasion and carried a special pack with some of Mel's favourites.

No one in the Pitt had even entertained the thought that you, with your bubbly personality and ever present smile, could be married to their very own anxious, demoralised and borderline suicidal attending.

You had spent that morning in surgery, fixing up a kid's lungs from a major pneumothorax after a consult in the Pitt. You'd been alerted that the child's father had arrived in the pedes' waiting room and that he had been asking for you.

You took a deep breath and turned the corner with Kiara right behind you. "Mr. Morgan?" You called out. A man raised his head at you and you nodded for him to follow you out of the waiting room.

"Your son's nursery brought him in this morning, he had a fever and was complaining of pain in his chest and back. We operated on a collapsed lung this morning. It was collapsed because of trauma, and it was so severe we could not treat it without surgery. We suspect someone kicked the boy in his ribs. I was called in for a consult by the doctors in the ER, and we found several old injuries during our assessment. Bruises and sprained ribs. Burns on his leg. It appears to us that the child has been hurt over a longer period of time."

You tried to control the anger in your voice. Your place was not to judge the man, but to help his son, but you were having trouble keeping yourself in line.

"This is Kiara, she is the social worker that is tied to the Emergency Department. She's been with your son since he was brought in. We want to have a conversation with you, and then child protection services and the police will be here to investigate further. There might be a reasonable explanation for all of this, but we are legally obligated to make a report and involve the police. Could you follow me into my office please?"

Mr. Morgan stood still in the hall. "You're saying you got the police involved?" His face grew red with anger. You raised an eyebrow, apparently the man was more worried about getting caught than trying to deny the accusation.

Kiara stepped in. "Yes, as the doctor explained, we have to report suspected cases of child abuse. I can talk with you about the next steps, so we can ensure this all goes smoothly for your son."

Mr. Morgan took a step towards you, his breath touching your cheek. He smelled of stale coffee. "You reported this to the police?" He asked again. You nodded, trying to step backwards to create distance. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. His voice grew louder. "I'll raise my boy however the hell I want to raise him. A nosy bitch like you has no say in it. Fucking whore of a doctor who thinks she's all that. Bet you've never raised kids of your own. Where is my son! I'm taking him home!" A bit of spit reached your face from the intensity of his outburst. Several people had poked their heads out of doors in the hallway, alarmed by the raised voice. You felt nervous by the way this was enfolding so you tried to deescalate the conversation once more. "Sir, the law in Pennsylvania states that I have to report you. If you've hurt your child, these are the consequences. There's nothing I can do about that. Your son is what we are worried about here, he's just had surgery because of his injuries. Let's try to talk and see what we ca-."

You felt the punch before you could have seen his fist flying at you. He was a big man and the force of it knocked you to the ground. Your hands flew up to your face, holding your nose. "Fuck." You groaned. You tried to inspect your nose, which, in hindsight, was a mistake, because you missed the foot that came flying into your ribs. A second kick landed soon after.

Kiara cried out next to you, calling for help. A group of nurses came flying in, grabbing mr. Morgan and pulling him off of you. You groaned and turned on your side, trying to breathe. Panic was taking over.

The chief attending came running up, assessing your nose and ribs with soft fingers. The touch grounded you and you tried to steady your breathing. You didn't say much, the pain in you body and the anger that was circling your mind keeping your throat closed.

"I need you to talk to me dear," she whispered. "Does this hurt?" You groaned. "Right, you need an x-ray so we can see what's going on. Let's get you down to the ER. Let's call 'em to let them know we're coming. Somebody get a gurney!"

You felt your heartbeat pick up as she mentioned the ER. Your fingers brushed her arm as she shouted orders. "No ER, please." You groaned at her. "I- I'm fine. Doesn't hurt that bad, I promise." You winced as you tried to put a smile on you face. "Try to convince someone else on that. I'm not keeping you out of the ER just so you can keep your husband in the dark." You groaned, again. "Don't call him. He'll worry. I'm fine." Your attending smiled at you. "Don't worry, I'll leave that to dr. Robinavitch. I would rather not be the one to tell you husband we let you get hurt while working."

Robby, Langdon and Whitaker were waiting in front of the elevator. They took over the gurney when the doors opened and rolled you into one of the rooms. Langdon tried very hard not to hurt you further and assessed your face carefully. You still winced when he brushed your left eye. "Sorry." He whispered at you. Robby was poking your ribs in the meantime. You turned you head towards him.

"Robby," You started, "You didn't call yet, did you?" He nodded and poked a particularly sore spot. "Let's asses first, I'll call him after." You whined at him. "Don't, Robby. He'll just be mad, I'll tell him when I get home." Robby looked at you sternly. "We'll talk about this later." You pouted at him and let Langdon inspect your face again. "Yes dad." You murmured. Langdon couldn't help a laugh escaping him.

Half an hour later you were working on convincing Robby not to call Jack. Your ribs were bruised and you had a massive black eye, but the CT's showed no breaks in you face or your ribs. It did hurt like hell though.

"I am a patient now, Robby, I do not give consent to cal my emergency contact and I am perfectly capable of making that decision right now." Robby nodded fiercely at you. "Yes, those are very pretty words, and very true, but the matter of the fact is that Jack will kill me when he finds out you are in his ER and I did not call him. My life's on the line here, not yours. It's bad enough that Gloria's coming down to investigate, I can not handle an angry Jack on top of that." You almost felt sorry for him.

"I just don't want him freaking out. I'll tell him when he comes in, then he can immediately see that I'm fine." Robby sighed at you. "That won't stop him from killing me and Dana." You grimaced back at him, pain pulsing through your bruises because of the movement. "He won't kill Dana, he'll hold you responsible."

Robby threw his hands in the air in surrender and was called away by an incoming trauma, leaving you alone.

You had planned to stay in the ER bed for another hour to make sure you had no concussion, but five minutes before you wanted to leave the curtain around your bed was ripped open.

"I was going to bring you a coffee upstairs and when I arrive one of the nurses tells me you've been knocked down by a parent and you're in the ER. And when I asked when it'd happened, they told me it was over two hours ago." Jack's face was angry. You opened your mouth to argue but where interrupted.

"So, let's see how you're doing" Langdon stepped in through the curtain and was shocked to see Jack standing there. "Dr. Abbot," Langdon called out, "What are you doing here so early? You shift doesn't start for an hour and a half. Is there a big trauma coming in?" Jack turned, still angry. "Where's Robby?" He demanded. "He's in curtain four, I think. He's been screaming to Gloria about hospital security for the past thirty minutes. But what are you doing here, do you need to discuss something with dr. Robby?" Jack grunted. "Bring him here." You winced at his tone. "Jack, come o-" Jack turned towards you. "Don't. Langdon go get Robby." Frank was confused. "He's in four with a patient. Why can't you just go to him? I've gotta check up on this patient." Jack turned fully towards him and Langdon could see the fury in Abbot's eyes. "Because my wife was brought into the ER this afternoon, and dr. Robinavitch did not contact me. That's why."

Langdon looked around the Pitt. "Your wife was brought in? When? I don't see an Abbot on the board? Where is she."

Jack pointed to you and you grew red.

Langdon opened his mouth but no sound came out. Whitaker kept looking from you to Jack.

"That is your wife?" Langdon gasped after a moment. "She's here all the time! How did you never tell us?" Jack shrugged and gently pushedsome hair out of your face. "Not like you ever asked." You leaned in to his touch. "You can hover around, but let Frank take a look at my face please." Jack's finger brushed your eyebrow. "I can do that. I don't want a resident working on my wife."

You took his fingers and pulled them down, kissing them softly. "Langdon can take care of it. Just sit tight and hold my hand. I'm fine Jack, I promise." You could see some of the worry leave your husband's face. "Sit down. We'll ask someone to cover your shift so you can take me home after. You can make me dinner and we'll hang out on the couch all evening, all right?" Jack resigned and took a seat next to you on the gurney, stroking your thigh with his free hand.

Langdon discharged you a couple minutes later and you managed to get Jack out of the Pitt without bumping into Robby. Jack was still mad that he had been blindsided, but he knew your injuries weren't bad. He'd promised you he'd be screaming at Robby tomorrow, but you were pretty sure you could get him to forgive his friend before then.

Tomorrow was going to be confronting enough, by then the entire hospital would know that the bubbly pediatrician and the grumpy ER physician were married.

Jack helped you into his car and leaned over you to fasten your seatbelt. "Jack," you told him when he was satisfied it was on tightly, "I'm not a kid, I can fasten my own seatbelt." Jack looked up into your eyes. "I know you're not. But you're my wife and I want to take care of you. You scared me darling. I was just going to take you a cup of coffee and I find you in my ER. That's something out of a nightmare. That elevator ride down was the longest of my life. I know you're going to be okay, but I was really terrified for a second there. So just bear with me while I treat you like you're made of glass, all right? It'll make me feel better about it." He walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You smiled at your husband. "So, did you abandon the cup of coffee in the pediatric ward or did you have the foresight that I would still want it." Jack fastened his own seatbelt and turned to you. "I did abandon your coffee. So I'm guessing our first stop on the way home is to get a new one?" You nodded at Jack. "You bet. Let's go, husband of mine!" He started the car and took another peek at you, glossing over your face to make sure you were all right. "I love you, my wife."

[prentisssbxtch]

An experience.

summary: the woman you slept with the night before, ends up being your boss.

relationship: wanda x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, hits to smut, lil make out, uhh i think that’s it? bad writing <3

this is my first time writing a fanfic so… bear with me

also not proofread !!

part 2

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

waking up confused and disoriented, i looked around my surroundings to see i was in my living room… naked.

i turned to see a naked woman’s back facing me as she lied passed out. i could see she had gorgeous red hair; which was going in every direction possible.

the color of her hair suddenly brought back memories or the night before:

the two of us stumbled through my apartment door before my back was pressed up against it. wanda’s lips never left mine as she gripped my waist, which definitely left bruises.

as her lips moved down towards my neck, i let out a soft moan, gripping her hair tightly between my fingers.

i let out a soft whimper as she nipped my neck. i could feel her lips turn up into a grin before i pulled her head back up to kiss me.

i suddenly snapped back to the present when i noticed the woman on my floor moving. wanda is her name, if i remember correctly.

i quickly pulled the blanket off her body to cover my own. i threw a pillow down to cover her ass, giving her at least some decency.

i wrapped the blanket around my body before standing as wanda began to full awaken.

i moved to stand behind my couch as i watch wanda wake up. she turned her head towards me after a moment of silence.

she has gorgeous eyes

“hey, um i have to be somewhere really soon, so if you wouldn’t mind, uh, leaving… that’d be great,” i said awkwardly, trying to avoid small talk.

“what don’t wanna go for round two?” was her only response, with the most cockiest smirk i’d ever seen.

i felt my eyes widen before quickly recovering, “as great as that sounds, i have somewhere to be. so i’m gonna go to my bathroom and take a shower, and when i come back, you’re going to be gone. okay?” i said as i slowly started backing away towards the bathroom.

she gave a small sigh before standing, completely nude. i quickly turned to give her privacy after being caught off guard.

“uh it was great meeting you…” i paused not wanting to get her name wrong.

“wanda” she said, filling in the blank, while she picked up her belongings.

“wanda,” i said repeating after her as i slowly turned to look back at her. “well, bye.”

was my final response as i turned to leave to the bathroom, again.

——

after my… eventful morning, i quickly rushed through my shower before putting on work appropriate clothes.

i was starting an internship at a law firm here in new york. it was one of the biggest companies in the city, Maximoff Industries.

the fancy name already had my scared, but the fact of a whole new building, which could make or break my career… i felt as if i could throw up at any moment.

i was luckily able to grab a taxi, before having a small panic attack in the car. i put my headphones in, turning on music to hopefully calm my nerves.

it didn’t.

as the taxi pulled up outside the building, i felt as if i was shitting bricks.

i turned to pay the driver before quickly exiting the car.

i slowly walked towards the building, trying to even my breathing as i neared the main entrance.

the second i walked through the door, i was greeted by marble floors with a gorgeous chandelier.

i walked to the front dest asking where to go. she told me all the interns were to go to the 5th floor, where we would meet Ms. Maximoff, the owner of the building.

i nodded my head before saying a quiet thank you. i moved towards the elevator, quickly pressing the button calling it to my floor.

once the doors opened i stepped in, pressing the button for the fifth floor before leaning against the back wall.

suddenly i began to realize i had no idea what any of the maximoffs looked like. they had a very house hold name, everyone knew of who they are. i thought of googling the name before realizing it was pretty pointless. i would be seeing her in person in just a few minutes.

as the elevator dinged, alerting me of my arrival to the fifth floor, i felt my anxiety suddenly jump even higher than before.

which i didn’t think was possible, but clearly it was.

i stepped out as i politely smiled at the people getting in. i saw another front desk for the floor, quickly making my way towards the woman sitting there. she quickly directed me towards a room off to the left, which already had several people sitting around it. i gave a small thank you before walking to the area.

i looked for an open seat before quickly sitting. as time passed more people began to walk into the room. once the clock on the wall turned to 2:30, two people walked into the room.

the first, a tall man with blond hair, slightly blocking the person behind them.

the person being him stepped to stand beside him, i cast a glance to the woman who stepped out. only for my jaw to drop once i realized who it was.

the woman from this morning. wanda.

the man cleared her throat, regaining my attention, “this will be the internship that could potentially make or break your future. you have all been picked on how well you did in school. do not think because you are here, you’re safe of future problems. we will not hesitate to let you go, if we see fit.”

i turned my attention back to the woman standing next to the man, seeing her already looking at me. i could tell from her expression, she too was surprised by my presence. within a blink, she looked completely neutral.

this was definitely going to be an experience.

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

thank you for reading🫶🏻

part two

[lowkeyerror]

Key to Your Flat

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Fluff, a bit of angst, pining, lots of acts of service, friends to lovers, au no powers

Summary: Wanda ends her long term relationship with Jarvis after realizing she was a lesbian. You've been her best friend since college, it's only right for you to support her in any way you can.

An: So this was supposed to be a cute little 1-2k fic loosely based on the Doja Cat snippet that says "Does a key to your flat mean girlfriend?" But it has turned into something else lol.

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

From the first day that you met her, you knew that Wanda would be one of the most successful people that you had ever encountered. There was no one more determined to make something of themselves than her. It was more than hard work; it was the way she sacrificed for the things that she wanted to accomplish in life.

You admired her.

How could you not, especially with the lack of direction you had in your own life? When you became her roommate in your sophomore year in college, you were already on your 3rd major. From engineering, to English, to culinary arts; you were all over the place. Yet you didn’t care much about it, figuring things would work out somehow.

You believed that the universe would grant you whatever fate you deserved. Until Wanda told you that was such a ridiculous notion. Who would wait for a handout from the universe when they could simply get what they wanted themselves?

She was a good influence on you. You started taking school and your future a little more seriously after that. You put a lot more stock into your culinary dreams, and they paid off. There was a beaming fulfillment in your chest when you opened your own restaurant. Something that probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t met Wanda.

While you can’t necessarily recall what Wanda does off of the top of your head. You know she’s got some long fancy title at some big industry company. She had taken an internship in college and because of how completely undeniable the woman was, she shot up in the ranks of the company within a 10-year period.

You were both busy people, but you never loss touch as you climbed your respective ladders of success. It was second nature for you to keep in contact with Wanda. It’s not something you thought about as much as something that you did.

Other aspects of your life often slipped through your fingers. You weren’t proud to say you’d forgotten a birthday or two or missed family plans because of work. Even your dating life suffered immensely because of your hectic lifestyle.

You never understood just how Wanda could manage to create enough balance in her life to find someone like Jarvis. He was a good man, clean cut. A little more uptight than you’d thought Wanda would go for, but a charmer, nonetheless.

You remember being skeptical when you first met him. You were the first person that he’d met from Wanda’s life. It was an accident when you ran into him on the way out of Wanda’s flat. He was about to knock when you were exiting. The red head was a little embarrassed to explain as you stared at the tall blonde man. You looked between the two before you shook his hand and sent him a decent enough smile.

She had chased after you when you left, trying to explain herself, but there was nothing to explain. You congratulated her, said you were happy she found someone. She thought you’d be upset with her, but you weren’t. How could you be upset when she was happy?

You had assumed that they had a perfect relationship. That’s how it seemed when you saw them interact with each other. His hand on her waist, her eyes shining into his. They’d seem to compliment each other like the ocean compliments the beach.

Which is why you were confused when Wanda called you in the middle of your shift at work. She hardly ever called, finding texting much more reliable. However, you picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Hey, I know you’re probably working right now but is there any way you can pick me up.”

It sounded like she had been crying.

You were taking your apron off as you spoke into the phone, “Always, just send me your location and I’ll be on my way.”

You hear the relieved sigh she lets out, “Thank you.”

You informed your staff of your departure and went to your car.  Wanda sent her location, and you put it into your GPS, before driving off. She was closer than you had expected so getting to her was easy.

She was at a park in the middle of the city. The day was cloudy, and the sun was preparing to set. It was a very grey day to be outdoors.

Once you were out of your car you scanned around for your friend. You found her almost instantly. She was sitting on a bench, her head in her hands.

You’d seen her stressed before, but this felt bigger than that. Her voice on the phone made that very evident to you.

You approached her cautiously and when you got close enough you called her name, “Wanda.”

Her head shot up when she heard you. She was off the bench and in your arms before you had time to react. Her arms were tightly wound around you. It caught you off guard and all you could do was stare down at her for a moment.

Soon you were holding her back just as tight. Your hand cradled the back of her hair, finger tenderly rubbing her scalp.

“What happened?” Your voice is soft when you ask, not trying to provoke her any more than she already is.

It takes her a minute to pull away enough to answer you, but eventually she does, “Jarvis, he proposed.”

Your eyes widen, “These don’t look like happy tears.”

“I was trying to break up with him,” she lets out a deep sigh. “I called him to talk in person, and then I tell him that I think we should break up. He gets on one knee and starts talking, and I- I just…”

“Oh Wands,” you pull her back into your embrace.

You readjust so that you have one arm over her shoulder. She doesn’t protest as you lead her to your car. She climbs in the passenger seat no questions asked as you pull off.

When you arrived at your destination she finally speaks up, “What’re we doing here?”

You’re in and out of the Chinese food spot with a hefty bag of boxes in tow. When you re-enter the car with the food Wanda sends you a small smile.

“Getting takeout,” you answered quickly getting out of the car. “You sit tight.”

“Did you-”

“Of course, I got our favorite and I asked for extra sweet and sour too. I was going to drive to yours, maybe we could eat and indulge in some sitcoms or talk, whatever you want. How does that sound?”

Your eyes raked over her features. She gave you a few small nods, “Sounds better than having an existential breakdown at the park.”

“Well, I guess it’s settled then,” you chuckled a little.

You drove to her house, glancing over at her every few minutes. Her head rested on the window and her eyes were closed, but you knew she wasn’t sleeping. Wanda often closed her eyes when she was trying to ground herself. It was something you had picked up on back in college. You never knew where she went in her head, but it always seemed to help her refocus.

When you got to her flat. You handled the food and the tv, shooing Wanda away to put on some more comfortable clothes. When she came back in her sweatpants and robe the two of you ate as you watched I Dream of Jeannie.

It took about 2 episodes before she said anything to you.

“You’re not going to ask why I wanted to break up with him?”

You leaned back into the couch, “I’m curious, but it didn’t really seem like something I should be asking right now.”

She searched your eyes for something. If you had to guess, you say for security. She needed to know that start she said next was ok to tell you. In truth there was nothing she could say that would deter you from being there for her.

“I think I like women,” she said as she looked into her lap. There were more tears brewing behind her eyes, “Only women.”

There was no hesitation as you moved closer to her. Your thigh brushing against hers, prompting her to meet your gaze.

“That’s not a bad thing Wanda.”

She shakes her head, “It is especially when you have a long-term boyfriend who loves you with everything that he has. You keep wondering when you’re going to love him the way he loves you. When will you stop hating the way he touches you? When will you be able to look at him, the way he looks at you. By the time you realize it can’t be him, it will never be a him… it’s too late. He shows you a ring while you’re trying to break up with him.”

You grab her hand, “You need to be kinder to yourself. This isn’t something you chose to do Wanda. It’s not like you knew the whole time. It sounds like you’re just coming to terms with your sexuality. You did the right thing by breaking up with him.”

“But-"

She ran her free hand through her hair, “Did you think we were a good couple? Jarvis and I.”

“Let me finish. If I’m being honest, getting on one knee and proposing to someone after they tried to break up with you sounds like a manipulation tactic.”

You thought about the question briefly, “I think it looked like you were the perfect couple, but sometimes I didn’t understand it. You’re both so different, not that it was a bad thing. I just… I’ve seen you soar to unimaginable heights. I’ve seen your ambitions become your reality. I just didn’t see that in him. You’re always striving to be the best, to improve. I always thought you’d want someone to do the same with you or someone who was okay with you doing that. It just seemed like all of that went over his head.”

“He was a very traditional man. He always talked about settling down in the future, with firm roots, and kids. He talked about me retiring and letting him take care of me. It was just- not what I wanted.”

“And that’s ok, people break up all the time Wanda. It’s a normal part of life. Yes, it sucks, but it's just a breakup. Think of it as one step closer to finding your person.”

She nods slightly, “When did you get so good at this?”

You smile at her, “I’m not good at this. I’m just good with you. That's what nearly a decade of friendship does to someone.”

She didn’t say anything else. Instead, she rested her head on your shoulder and turned her attention back to the tv. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling her firmly into you.

Wanda would get through this, just like she got through everything else. You’d make sure of it, because she'd do the same for you.

In the coming months, you found yourself carving out more time for Wanda. The busy nature of your schedule died down significantly when you started to entrust the general manager of your restaurant with some more responsibility. It made your workload lighter while allowing your GM to get some more experience.

You used the new free time to support her the best way you could. Sometimes that meant bringing her lunch when she was working. Other times it was coming over after work to make sure the woman wasn’t neglecting her home. You’d go over and check if she had groceries or that she wasn’t letting the flat get too dirty.  She was the kind of woman that threw herself into work when she was trying to avoid something.

You’d even gone as far as helping her set up a dating profile when she was ready to put herself back out there.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

You were once again in her flat. She stood in the kitchen, while you sat on a chair stationed at the island in the middle of the same room.

“Date women,” she was asking sincerely, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

“Well, I don’t really date, but it’s the same as any date. You’re trying to present your best self, get a good foot forward, but while maintaining an authenticity. It’s not like a job interview where only one person is doing the hiring; you both have a say in how it turns out.”

Wanda narrows her eyes, “Why don’t you date?”

You shrug, “Too busy running a very successful restaurant.”

“You’re not as busy as you used to be. Maybe you should set up a profile for yourself. I’m sure any girl would be lucky to have you.”

You shook your head, “Hard pass, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Come on, Y/nn. I know accomplishments can feel empty when you don’t have anyone to share them with,” she tried to persuade you.

“Well good thing I can share it with you then,” you countered.

She let out an irritated sigh, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You smirked, “Why do you want me to sign up so badly anyway? You think we’re going to match?”

You were only joking, yet you can’t help but notice the slight color on your friend’s cheeks.

She scoffed like you expected her to, “Grow up.”

For a moment it felt like you were back in your college dorm. The playful and flirty banter was always present between the two of you. It was easy for you to flirt with her, knowing you never really had a chance. However, now that there was even the slightest of possibility that this could escalate, it felt completely different.

“It’s alright Wanda, nothing to be ashamed of. I’m hot, successful, hardworking, and financially responsible. Hard to ignore the total package.”

She rolled her eyes, “I remember when Ms. ‘Total Package’ couldn’t even finish her college assignments without my help.”

You chuckle when you catch her eyes, “You’ve got me there. If it wasn’t for you, I have no idea where’d I be.”

“Probably still in college on your 95th major change,” she laughed at her own joke.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Very funny.”

 With a smile plastered on her face she strolled over to sit next to you. She spun on the barstool before grabbing your arms and looking into your eyes, “I have something for you actually.”

“What is it?”

She reached into her pocket and sat a key down on the island. You looked at her, then the key, with slight confusion.

“A key?”

Wanda nodded softly, “You’re basically here all the time and I’m getting tired of opening the door for you.”

“I’m using this key to come over and cook in this beautiful kitchen, you hardly use.”

“Hey, I cook,” she defended.

You laughed, “I said hardly, didn’t I?”

When you got home that night, you felt a new weight on your shoulders. Your hand slipped into your pocket to pull out the key. You held it flat in your palm. The small piece of metal was cool against your skin. You stared at it for a long while.

It was just a key. There wasn't anything crazy about it. Your friend gave you a key to her house. Friends do that with each other. Your heart shouldn’t have been fluttering the way it was over such a simple gesture.

You closed your hand around the key trying to ground yourself. Your eyes shut, but as soon as they did her smile etched its way into your sight.

“Shit.”

It was like college all over again. You thought you had gotten over your crush on Wanda many years ago. She was straight, it was never going to happen. That was something you could deal with, something you could work through. However now, that wasn’t the case anymore. Wanda liked women, technically you had a chance.

You shouldn't be thinking like that. She needs you now, to be her friend. You were doing so well. Taking care of her had become an unconscious pattern as easy as breathing. You never thought about it too hard when she needed you. It’s like the moment she put the key in your hand, your mind finally started thinking.

Subconsciously you’d always known it. It’s why you didn't date. It was unfair to be with someone who you could never prioritize over Wanda. She was one of the few people in your life that you’d drop everything for.

Sure, you were a busy woman, but you’d never be too busy for her. Her distress over Jarvis literally made you change the way you worked, just to make sure you were there when she needed you.

“Why would I make her a dating profile?” You asked yourself as you face-planted on to your mattress.

Just as you expected Wanda’s profile was gaining some traction. There were a lot of women interested in someone like her. Soon she was going on more dates than you had been on in years. Most of them weren’t serious, she often said she wouldn’t be seeing them again.

You made a day of finding the freshest ingredients. You drove out to find markets that had authentic food from her home country. There wasn’t a lot locally, but you didn’t mind the hunt.

While you were sad that she wasn’t finding anyone suitable you were also happy for the same reason. You thought you’d attempt to cheer her up after so many bad dates by cooking one of her favorite dishes.

Once you had everything you needed you made your way over to Wanda’s. It was a hassle carrying everything up, but you managed with a little effort.

While you were still conflicted about having a key to her flat, you used it plenty of times. So just like you had done previously you let yourself into Wanda’s home.

“Oh, fuck sorry,” you said as you immediately saw Wanda straddling the lap of an older ( admittedly super attractive) woman on her living room couch.

Wanda looked like a deer in headlights. You were trying to comprehend if you were more mortified or heartbroken. No one spoke for a long while until the older woman cleared her throat.

“Right, uh I’ll just come back tomorrow or something. Enjoy your night, Wanda.”

With the groceries still in your hands, you turned around and closed the door. You only made it down a few steps before you heard someone calling after you.

“Y/n, wait!”

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath trying to mask your feelings before you turned around.

“This stuff is a little heavy Wanda; I want to get it back to the car before the bags break.”

She took a few bags from your hands, “Let me help you.”

“You don’t have to; you looked pretty busy in there. Here I was, bringing stuff to cook for you in light of all your failed dates, but it seems like you’re not doing nearly as bad as I thought,” you tried to joke with her.

“Agatha is definitely the best of the dates I've had so far.”

You had to keep yourself from wincing, “Glad to hear it.”

Wanda helped you load the stuff back into the car.

“I’m really sorry about this. If I would’ve known you were coming-"

You shook your head, “It’s fine Wanda, go back to making out with a hot older woman. They don't like to wait for too long. I’ll just text you next time instead of just barging in.”

“I gave you a key because you’re always welcome.”

You unhooked the key from your key ring and hand it back to her, “I know that, but maybe it’s best if you let me in.”

“Y/n,” she looked at you with confusion.

You smiled through the pain, “If you’re going to have women over, it’s not a good look for another woman to be coming in and out of your house whenever. We’re not related and we’re not roommates. There’s not really a reason for me to have access to you like that.”

“I don’t understand,” she looked between you and the key that was now in her hand.

“Usually, a key to your flat would mean I’m your girlfriend. Me coming over to cook for you as another woman who likes women is bad for your stock. It just doesn't feel like something that's easily explained. I would have a bunch of questions if I was in Agatha’s position, especially since you haven't gone back yet,” you got into your car.

There was a conflicted look on her face, “You’ll stop by tomorrow?”

“I’ve got work, but I'll try to stop by after,” you told her that even though you knew you wouldn't be coming back tomorrow.

“I’ll see later then?” She was searching for something as she surveyed your features.

With what little control you had left, you tried to give her what she was looking for, “Definitely. Now forget about this and go back to your date.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but with a small glance back at her flat, she walked away. You drove home.

The groceries felt eternally heavier when you were bringing them into your house. You wondered how carrying them upstairs to Wanda’s was even possible.

You hurriedly put the food away, showered, and then got in the bed. When your head hit the pillow, you let out a deep sigh. Your jaw started to tremble on its own.

You let out a bitter laugh as the tears fell down your face. You didn’t bother to wipe them away.  It felt like a part of you was ripped out of your chest.

This was bound to happen eventually. Wanda would move on from Jarvis and your silly fantasy would be crushed. You felt silly crying over a woman that was never yours.

Yet another part of you was screaming at you for feeling silly. You were doing a lot for Wanda. Even if it was all just friendly, sometimes it felt like more. All the dinners, all the cuddling on the couch, all the late-night talks. She was your better half, but she wasn’t your girl. She’d never be your girl.

It was something you had to accept. You didn’t go to work the next day. You rotted in your bed, not having the energy to get up. Scrolling on your phone was the only thing you wanted to do.

Wanda had texted you a few times, but you ignored the messages. Even the thought of her just made your entire chest burn.

You finally got out of bed when you had to pee. You took the opportunity to brush your teeth as well. On the way back to the bed your doorbell started to ring. Not just once either. Whoever was at the door pressed the button over and over again. It was impossible to ignore.

So, with your bed head, red eyes, and mismatched pajamas you yanked the front door open, “Look, I don’t know what you want but could you just go away and try again tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow’s not going to work for me.”

Your head shot up and you felt face heat. Wanda was standing at your front door with her arms crossed over her chest with an eyebrow raised.

“What’re you doing here?”

Your voice had a softness to it that you reserved for the red head in front of you.

She didn’t answer your question. Instead, she let herself into your home. You closed the door behind her. You followed her to your living room. She sat on your couch while you took a seat on a chair diagonal to it.

“I thought you had work today,” she says.

“I decided not to go.”

“I’ve been texting you.”

You shrugged, “Haven’t been on my phone, sorry.”

Wanda stared at you, “I went to your restaurant looking for you.”

You were looking into your lap, “I’m sorry Wanda.”

She got up from the couch to come completely into your line of sight. She kneeled down in front of you, her hands resting on your knees.

“What’s going on with you, Y/nn?”

The concern in her voice broke you out of your trance. You tried your hardest to feign that you were alright.

“I’m fine. Since you’re here why don't you let me cook something for us?”

“This is for paprikash,” Wanda watched as you began to prepare.

You stood from the chair quickly pushing down the rest of your emotions. She watched as you walked over to the kitchen pulling out some of the ingredients you had bought the day before.

You nod, “Yeah, I got stuff for chicken paprikash, alivenci, and cholent too. The plan was to cook the paprikash and then the alivenci for dessert. I was going to set up the cholent for you before I left so you could have it fresh the next day because it’s got to cook for like 17 hours.”

“You got all of this for me?”

You answered her while chopping up the vegetables, “It was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re using Hungarian bell peppers, where did you even get those?”

You smiled a bit, “I do own a restaurant, Wanda. If there’s anything I’m an expert in, it’s food. I wanted it to be authentic as possible.”

As you began cooking you felt the weight of the situation lift off of your shoulders. Cooking had always been a stress reliever for you, and it wasn’t any different now. You could feel Wanda’s eyes on you, but you never looked away from the meal.

Only when the chicken was simmering in the pot did she attempt to grab your attention.

“After you came by yesterday, I asked Agatha to leave,” Wanda broke the silence.

You finally look at her, “Why would you do something like that?”

She simply placed a key on the counter, “I couldn't stop thinking about you giving me this key back.”

“Wanda,” you tried to stop her, but she cut you off.

“No, I need you to listen. When you put this key in my hand, it felt like you had handed me a live grenade. I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until I went back inside, and Agatha asked me how we knew each other that it clicked. You’re my everything.”

“What are you saying?”

She hesitated, “I’m saying I’ve already found my person.”

“Wanda, you’re my best friend.”

She invaded your personal space, grabbing you gently by the wrist, “And you’re mine, but it’s more than that isn’t it? You’re the person I can rely on for anything at any time. You’re the woman that left her restaurant to put me back together when my ex left. You listened to me, you held me, you cooked for me, made sure I had groceries, and that my house was clean. Friends don't do as much as you've done for me.”

You slowly lifted your gaze to meet her’s, “I just know you appreciate acts of service.”

“Y/n if you don’t want this I’ll leave and we can pretend it never happened; but if you do want this, want me, I’m right here laying it all out for you.”

You drop your gaze again, “I cried myself to sleep last night. I thought I'd lost my chance. When I saw you on top of Agatha, something broke inside of me Wanda.  Back in college I had a crush on, but I thought you were straight, so it was easy to keep it down. When you came out to me, it was like I was at square one all over again.”

Wanda shook her head, “It’s not square one because here I am telling you that I’m in love with you. Please give us a chance Y/n.”

You wished the moment was more glamorous as you kissed the woman in front of you. You hadn’t denied her yet and you never planned to. Her hands locked behind your neck while yours rested on her waist.

Your breath was shaky when the kiss ended. Neither of you moved.

“I love you too,” you pecked her lips again.

Wanda blushed, but you were more focused on the way she looked at you. Her eyes were full of nothing but tenderness.

“Would you take the key back?”

You raised your eyebrow, “Why does it feel like you’re asking me for something else?”

She feigned innocence, “I’m not. Unless you think that what you said yesterday about keys is true.”

“Remind me what I said again?”

Her fingers played with the hairs at the base of your neck, “A key to my flat means girlfriend.”

You pretended to think about it, “Girlfriend?”

She nodded, “Girlfriend.”

“I guess I’ll have to get you a key too then,” you said softly.

This time Wanda leaned in for a kiss. It was supposed to be a peck, but you both got lost in that moment. Neither willingly to part with the other just yet. Lips fitting together to create a soft lullaby of security.

You never thought you’d be lucky enough to have Wanda in this way. She was your best friend, your person, and now your girlfriend. It may have taken years, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda cherished you just as much. She felt like an idiot for not realizing her feelings sooner, but she was just happy to call you, her girl.

And one day, she would be ecstatic to call you, her wife.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Dinner Party

Inspired by @thehydraethereal ‘s prompts

Warnings: abusive relationship, physical abuse, emotional abuse, unwanted kissing, choking, slapping, alcohol, drug use

You didn’t have to look over at your boyfriend to know that he was displeased, you could feel his frustration emanating off of him in waves.

Across from you, Topper was jabbering away about some Kook vs Pogue nonsense with Kelce; neither Rafe nor you were listening to them. You looked down at your plate of barely touched food and sighed.

To say that you and Rafe had gotten into a fight earlier would have been a gross understatement; just 3 hours ago Rafe was berating you at the top of his lungs when you showed him your first outfit choice for the dinner tonight.

“Are you trying to fucking embarrass me? In front of my friends, in front of my dad?” He seethed, inching closer to you as you backed away.

“No Rafe, I-"

“You already know that he doesn’t like you, Y/N. I don’t know what in your dumb slut brain would make you think that dressing like that would be okay, but it’s not.” He crowded your space, grabbing at the fabric of your dress, and you squirmed in his grasp.

The truth was, this had absolutely nothing to do with what you were wearing, and you both knew it. Too many stressful days at work recently meant that Rafe had been coming home itching to release his pent up frustration, which usually meant picking fights with you.

“You’re not coming to this dinner half naked, either change clothes or you can stay at home.” His lip curled as he glared down at you, both hands firmly gripping your arms to keep you from pushing at his chest.

Tears were already welling in your eyes from his tight grip and harsh words, and as you struggled to free yourself from his hold, he pushed you too hard, knocking you off balance.

You yelped as you hit the floor, your cheek slamming against the hardwood painfully. For a moment you were too dazed to move, and your head ached as you numbly sat up and gingerly touched your cheek, cringing when your warm skin throbbed in pain.

“Do you know what Ward said to me after our last dinner together, huh? Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” you whimpered when your boyfriend’s fingers locked on your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“He told me he couldn’t figure out why I was spending so much time with a ‘piece of Pogue trash.’”

You swallowed hard, uncomfortable under his cruel glare; and the frustration and shame bubbling up in your gut made you feel sick. You couldn’t stop the frown that tugged at your lips or the tears that were now sliding down your cheeks.

“Ward thinks you’re a gold digging slut and that you’re in over your head,” he rolled his eyes as he spoke, but you knew that some part of him did care about what his father thought; and the idea that Rafe might think those things about you too cut you deeper than you expected.

“I know that you’re not,” he added. “but it’s about the way it looks, Y/N, you know that.”

Rafe eyed your cheek, bringing his hand up to touch the tender skin and you cringed, trying to pull away from him, but your boyfriend held you in place, softly stroking your puffy cheek, before placing a delicate kiss there.

Sometimes the way his moods would switch so fast made your head spin, and trying to keep up only led you to be more confused.

“I’m sorry, I… got a little rough. I’ll start a warm bath, and I’ll get your outfit ready for you, okay?” His voice was softer now, gentle even, “Want you to have plenty of time to make sure your makeup is perfect, baby.”

“Y/N, have you been making any more progress with your internship?”

Ward’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the present. You forced a smile as you turned to meet his eyes.

“Oh, yes, I actually just got assigned a new project and my company told me they’re planning on assigning me more leadership roles,” you beamed, finally happy to have something to brag about to Rafe’s father.

Your confidence was quickly shot down however with his next question.

“And are they going to start paying you?”

You could hear the unsaid part loud and clear, ‘so you can finally stop living off of my son’s dime?’

“Um, well,” you stuttered. “Technically it’s still an unpaid position, but this is a really good job for my subject field, a-and the experience will look really good on my resume. Most of the people in my classes are also in unpaid internships.”

Ward gave you a tight grin, one you knew was insincere and you tried not to feel disappointed by his response, but when you glanced over at Rafe, you knew you had only annoyed him more. Your heart sunk, and your mind raced to think of something to say to fix the situation.

“Isn’t Rafe starting a new project soon though?”

Rafe coughed, choking on his drink before clearing his throat and turning to look at you, “nah, Y/N, I think you’re remembering a past project.”

“What are you talking about Y/N?” Ward asked, and you felt your mouth go dry as you looked between him and your boyfriend.

Rafe’s face was even as he took a sip of his jack and coke, but you couldn’t miss the anger in his eyes, and you swallowed before shifting your gaze to Ward.

“N-nothing. Rafe’s right, I was confused. That was what he was working on last summer.” You covered for him quickly, stomach twisting when you glanced back over at your boyfriend.

Now the memory returned to you in full, Rafe telling you over a shared blunt in his hazy room about his plans to score a deal so big he’d never have to work again. The only problem was you’d forgotten one detail.

“Ward can’t know,” he passed you the blunt after ashing it into the tray on the bedside table.

“What, why?” You took a hit, inhaling the smoke deep into your lungs before handing it back to Rafe.

He didn’t answer, taking a long drag of the blunt and then lazily blowing the smoke up at the ceiling.

“He’d freak out if he knew the details, you would too,” he chuckled. “So don’t ask about it, and don’t mention anything to him.”

You pursed your lips, disappointed in the lack of details, but you understood and you had no choice but to trust Rafe, so you didn’t press further.

Ward accepted your excuse, and the conversation moved on to other topics, but Rafe was still simmering with barely disguised anger, and you didn’t miss the fact that he was on his fifth drink of the night.

The dinner was beginning to wind down, waiters soon appearing to remove the empty plates from the table before bringing out desserts. You picked at the slice of pie in front of you, too nervous to eat much of it at all.

Sensing your discomfort and still aiming to pass the two of you off as a normal couple, Rafe leaned in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and that was when you made your worst mistake of the night.

His finger brushed your sore cheek and instead of leaning into his touch, you flinched, sharply inhaling through your nose as you pulled away from him. Your heart was pounding, pulling you back to earlier that night and you froze in place before suddenly remembering where you were.

To you, the moment felt agonizingly long, though it couldn’t have lasted more than a second. Unfortunately, your reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

“What the hell?”

You turned towards Sarah, forcing a fake smile onto your face as you did. “What?”

Rafe’s presence behind you had you on high alert, desperate to salvage this dinner before it collapsed into disaster, and the way he tensed beside you made your pulse pick up pace.

“What was that?” Sarah asked you before shooting a harsh glare towards her brother.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you chuckled nervously, playing dumb and hoping she would just drop it.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked between you and Rafe, and you silently prayed that your makeup was still completely covering your bruise from earlier.

“You practically jumped out of your chair when Rafe touched you,” she shot back, catching Ward’s attention now.

Topper and Kelce eyed Rafe knowingly, silent smirks growing as they watched from across the table.

You looked between Sarah’s eyes and Ward’s, mouth dry as they stared you down, “I- I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

“Is it a crime to surprise your girlfriend?” Rafe challenged with a chuckle, possessively wrapping one arm around your waist and staring Sarah down.

She was silent for a few moments, her gaze flicking between you and Rafe suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” you reassured her with a small smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

By the time Rafe was finally able to pull the two of you away from the table, it was late, and you said your goodbyes quickly, trying to ignore the way Sarah’s gaze followed you on the way out.

As soon as the two of you exited the restaurant, his grip on your wrist was firm, tugging you towards the back of the parking lot and ignoring your protests.

“Rafe- that hurts-”

“You think I care?” He sneered, roughly pushing you up against the door of his truck. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You cringed at his harsh words, eyes low to the ground as he glared down at you. The pit that had been growing in your stomach all dinner felt large enough to swallow you whole.

“Why the fuck would you tell Ward about the deal I’m working on?” His large hand came to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his angry eyes.

“I-” your voice cracked, warm tears misting up your eyes. “I just forgot, Rafe, I’m sorry.”

“You forgot?” He repeated slowly, like you were stupid, and you could feel your throat getting tighter with anxiety. “Nah, that’s the problem with you, Y/N. You didn’t forget, you never fucking listen!”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

You heard the ringing in your ears before you felt the sting, and it wasn’t until Rafe’s fingers were threading into your hair to pull you upright again that you realized he had hit you.

Rafe forced your head back against the car door, roughly tugging at your hair to keep you in place.

“You fucking embarrassed me in front of my dad and friends ‘cuz you just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hissed, face so close to yours you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Sounds like someone forgot her place.”

You whimpered when he tugged your hair again, tears staining your cheeks as he glared down at you.

Rafe’s hand came to your sore cheek, stroking your tender skin before mockingly tapping the soft flesh, “see how quiet you can be after I slap you around?”

“Y/N?”

The sound of Sarah’s voice on the other side of Rafe’s truck made you freeze, and your boyfriend immediately released his hold on you, stepping back as you quickly reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned to see her, worried that your cheek might be inflamed again after the hit Rafe just dealt you.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course she is.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Rafe.” Sarah snapped, scowling at her brother before turning her attention back to you. “I thought I heard you two fighting.”

“We’re fine, I’m fine,” you lied, plastering on another fake smile. “Just having a discussion, that’s all.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she looked at you and then Rafe.

“You’re sure?”

You paused for just a moment before nodding.

“I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you were okay before-”

“God Sarah, do I have to shove my tongue down her throat for you to take the hint? She’s fine,” Rafe rolled his eyes at his sister, waving her off with one hand before turning his attention back to you, “we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sarah scoffed, clearly wanting to ask you more questions, but when Rafe ignored her only to push you back against his truck and start kissing you, she let out a groan of revulsion before turning to leave.

You barely heard her say goodbye, too distracted by the feel of your boyfriend’s lips moving against yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth. Your stomach churned as he kissed you, a horrible and confusing mixture of desire and disgust mingling in your gut.

Rafe knew how much you loathed PDA, and you had no doubt this just another way for him to exercise his control over you and punish you for embarrassing him at the dinner. After all, this wasn’t even the first time he’d pulled a stunt like this. It was starting to become a habit.

When his hand circled around your throat, you gasped, and he deepened the kiss, devouring your lips as he held you in place. Rafe’s grip tightened, cutting off your airway even harder now, and you struggled against the tight hold he had on your neck and wrist.

He finally pulled away after what felt like an eternity, and you doubled over, falling to your knees as you gasped for breath and clutched your sensitive throat.

Your boyfriend sneered down at you, enjoying the fear in your eyes when you looked up at his looming figure.

“This had better be the last time something like that happens, Y/N, do you understand me?”

You nodded, sniffling and blinking fresh tears from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

“I don’t need Sarah or Ward sticking their noses into our relationship.” Rafe seethed, leaning down to pull you to your feet. His hands gripped your shoulders hard, fingertips digging into your sensitive skin, eliciting another pathetic whimper.

You looked deeply into your boyfriend’s eyes, trying to find any glimpse of softness or remorse for his actions, but instead you were only met with hard, cold blue.

"Don’t ever flinch like that again in public, or I’ll give you a real reason to."

[floodflameschosen]

"You're shaking." – "So are you." or "You're mine now. Say it." with Noah please? I can't decide which one so you choose🥹

CW: first time, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), lots of fluff and gentleness, best friends to lovers, open/happy ending.

🔞 nsfw, minors please dni.

You hadn’t meant to say anything.

It just slipped out one night while you curled up next to Noah on your couch, the battered old thing in the tiny apartment you’ve been sharing ever since you had to move away for college.

You still remember how terrified you were during your last year of high school, when the time to leave started closing in on you. You were terrified of what it would mean to step out into a new life, of what it would mean to leave Noah behind.

You didn’t know how to exist without him. You didn’t want to.

But just when you were trying to figure out how you were supposed to say goodbye, he looked at you with those steady, sure eyes and said: “What if I wanted to go with you? You know there’s nothing left for me in this deadbeat town, anyway. Not if you’re not here.”

You couldn’t believe it at first.

Couldn’t believe he would choose to follow you, to start over somewhere unfamiliar, just because he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else if it wasn’t with you. And maybe it was selfish, but when he suggested you move in together—split rent, save money—you said yes so fast you barely remembered to breathe.

God, you were so excited.

Excited to finally move away from home, to meet new people and have all the privacy and independence you’ve always dreamed of. Excited by the prospect of living with your best friend, of not having to say goodbye when night came and it was time to go home for dinner—as childish as the thought could be, it was still true.

Now, six months into classes, the excitement had started to wear off a little—not the living with Noah part of it, but everything else. Being in a bigger city, surrounded by people who all seemed so grown up, so sure of themselves, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

They talked about internships and life plans like it were all so simple. They talked about hookups and dating and sex—and you couldn’t even pretend to keep up. You didn’t even have the basic experiences they all seemed to take for granted.

You just felt a little… small. Inadequate.

And somehow, in the haze of tiredness and cheap beer and the warm, safe weight of Noah beside you, the words just slipped out.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, sounding almost pouty. “Maybe I’ll just… pick someone tomorrow at the party. Get this whole virginity crap over with, at least.”

You felt him freeze beside you. The air shifted, like the room itself was suddenly holding its breath.

When too many seconds passed and he still hadn't said anything, you turned to look at him, and the way Noah was looking at you—like you’d just given him the worst news in the world—made your heart stutter.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said quietly. His voice was low, tight, so heavy it almost cracked.

“Why not? You did.” You tried to argue, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable talking about this with him. Still, you kept going. “You lost it to some random girl at that high school party when you were like, eighteen, remember? Why would it be different for me?”

Noah’s jaw clenched as he looked away, and the arm he had draped around you tightened, pulling you closer for just a second before his fingers curled into a fist in the soft material of your shirt, like he physically needed something to hold on to.

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at the TV, but when his gaze finally snapped back to yours, there was something raw and fierce and possessive flickering in his brown eyes.

“Because it is different.” He said, his tone almost angry. Like it was that simple, just because he said so.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“I didn’t think it through, alright? I was drunk and just went with it because it was there.” He shook his head, a rough, humorless breath of a laugh scraping out of him—and it made something inside you feel heavy.  “I was going through some shit back then, so I just thought maybe if I fucked someone else, I’d stop feeling so fucking alone.”

You blinked at him.

“Wait. What?” You asked, pushing yourself up a little, trying to meet his eyes. “You never told me you were going through anything back then. What's that about?”

Noah faltered for a second, eyes darting away from yours again, and for a moment, you saw something almost panicked flicker across his face.

“It’s not important,” he said quickly, dismissively, his fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt. “It was a long time ago, and that's not the point. What I’m trying to say here is that you’re not me, and it doesn't have to be like that for you. You have options.”

You swallowed hard, heart picking up speed inside your chest at the words, the mention of another option.

“It didn't mean anything to me, and I don't want you to have the same shitty experience.” Noah’s voice softened, but there was still an edge of something rough in it. “You deserve to have your first time with someone who actually cares—someone who’ll notice if you’re scared, who’ll be patient. Someone who’s gonna make sure it’s good for you.”

A lump formed in your throat, because—this was it, wasn’t it? You knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it terrified you. This was the moment, the tipping point where everything could change.

The safe route would be to dismiss it entirely—just go to bed and pretend this talk never happened, try to protect that friendship you’d always had with Noah. But as you sat there, your stomach fluttered with a warmth that twisted something inside you.

With a rush of heat flooding your veins, you made your choice, and instead of shying away from this, you opened your mouth and went down the scary route, voice barely a whisper when you asked him:

“And who would that someone be, Noah?”

For a long moment, Noah didn’t say anything.

He just stared at you, his eyes holding you in place as if he were searching for something. His breathing was measured, controlled, like he was trying to hold himself together, but you could see it, just barely—that quiet breaking point inside of him.

You weren’t sure what to do, or if you even could do anything at all to make this easier. The silence between you two stretched long enough that it almost felt suffocating, but you didn’t dare look away. You needed to know.

His voice was barely audible when it finally came, hoarse and vulnerable.

“Me.”

The word hung there between you, fragile and burning.

You stared at him—at the boy who had been your best friend for years, who had held you through every heartbreak, who knew every single one of your fears and dreams—and suddenly everything made too much sense.

The way he touched you sometimes, lingering like he didn’t mean to. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he held you, like he never intended to let go if you didn't make him.

Your heart raced in your chest, thumping against your ribs like it wanted to break free. Your mouth felt dry as you stared into his eyes and realized the truth that had been there all along:

It was Noah.

It had always been Noah.

That feeling you hadn’t named yet, the things unsaid, were now slipping through the cracks.

“If you’ll let me,” he added quietly when you took too long to speak, scared, voice breaking at the edges. “I could be that person.”

You didn’t know what to do with that realization, but you didn’t need to figure it out right away. Not with him. Not at this moment. And for once, you didn’t overthink it. You didn’t run.

Noah was still staring at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to reject him, to make everything easier to walk away from. Instead, you reached out and threaded your fingers through his, squeezed.

“Okay,” you whispered, the words trembling in your chest. “You, then.”

Noah froze for the second time that night.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might’ve misheard you. But then his eyes darkened with something intense—relief, yes, but also something much stronger, something you haven't seen in him before.

He reached out for you, fingers brushing your cheek softly before cupping it, his touch a mix of reverence and disbelief.

“I trust you,” you said, stronger now, your voice steady, even if your heart felt anything but. “I want it to be you, if that's an option.”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to say more—anything, everything—but all that came out was a shaky, amazed chuckle. He closed his eyes for a split second, like he was gathering himself, before looking back at you with such intensity you almost couldn’t stand it.

“We’ll take it slow,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he was feeling. “As slow as you need.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your mind raced. Turning your head slowly, you nuzzled against his palm, feeling the roughness of his skin against your cheek.

The tenderness of the moment overwhelmed you in the best of ways, the heat between you building, and with it, the longing you’d tried so hard to pretend wasn't there for all those years.

And then, barely above a whisper, you breathed out:

“I’m not so sure I want slow now.”

Noah’s whole body seemed to tighten at the words, as if he were holding back a storm. The groan that left his chest was low, almost helpless, and when he finally kissed you, it didn't feel like just a kiss—it was everything he’d been holding in, all the years of tension and want finally crashing over you both like a wave.

It started almost shaky—his lips molding over yours carefully, tasting, testing.

But when you sighed into him, when your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his hoodie and tugged him closer, it snapped something loose. Noah kissed you harder, one hand sliding around the back of your neck, the other spanning your waist, big and warm and there as he pulled you into him.

You shifted without a second thought, climbing into his lap, straddling him on the couch. Your bare thighs bracketed his hips, your t-shirt brushing against the skin of his arms where he’d shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up. He groaned softly into your mouth at the feeling of you settling over him like that—like you belonged there—and let his hands roam.

He caressed his way up your thighs, squeezing lightly, making you gasp. Over your hips, your waist, the small of your back—exploring, learning, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

You gasped louder against his mouth when the tip of his fingers slipped under your shirt, barely skimming over your heated skin, and he shuddered, breaking the kiss just long enough to look at you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop…” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, already breathing hard.

“I don’t. I won't.” You whispered, breathless, and kissed him again, deeper this time.

After that, it got heated fast—hands everywhere, breathing uneven, small needy sounds spilling from you without thought.

Noah’s hoodie was bunched up between you, and you tugged at it blindly, a frustrated noise crawling up your throat because you wanted it off, making him chuckle against your mouth before helping you pull it over his head and toss it aside.

You flattened your palms against his now bare chest—feeling the steady thud of his heart, the solid warmth of him—and he squeezed your hips like he was grounding himself, trying to keep control, to be careful.

But you didn’t want careful, so you pressed your body closer, hips rolling without even meaning to, grinding your center against the soft front of his basketball shorts. You could feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin material, and when you hesitantly grazed your fingers over the fabric, that seemed to do the trick—Noah groaned, swiftly wrapping his arms around you and lifting you effortlessly off the couch along with him.

You squeaked in surprise, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, arms around his neck, but he just chuckled—a breathless, beautiful sound—as he carried you down the hallway. Catching your gaze, his lips curved into that crooked smile that always made your breath catch.

“Bedroom,” he muttered before ducking down and pressing his soft lips to your throat, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses there as he walked. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on a couch.”

Noah kicked the bedroom door open and crossed over to his bed in two quick strides, laying you down gently, like you were something breakable, something precious. And when he climbed over you, bracing his weight carefully so he wouldn't crush you, and looked down with those stormy eyes of his—so full of want, so full of need—you just knew.

You were never getting over this, never getting over him.

You didn’t want to.

Noah just stayed there, hovering over you for a breathless moment—his chest heaving, arms trembling slightly from how hard he was holding himself back. You reached up without hesitation, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging gently on the soft strands.

The reaction was immediate: he groaned, low, borderline broken, and leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—like you were gravity and he had no choice but to fall.

His hand reached up and closed around your wrist, gentle but firm, and he pulled your hand from his hair to bring it to his mouth instead, pressing a slow, lingering kiss into your palm, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and tender all at once.

“So are you,” you whispered, accompanied by a shaky little laugh, heart slamming against your ribs.

That made him smile—small, a little unsteady. Like he was just as nervous about this as you were. He turned his head and kissed your wrist next, lingering there for a moment longer before finally letting your hand go.

And then he was leaning back in, sealing his mouth to yours again—slower this time, deeper—like he wanted to taste every single breath you gave him. His hands started moving again, reverent and hungry, skimming down your sides, over your hips, down to squeeze the soft skin of your thighs.

When his mouth finally broke from yours, he didn’t go far. He just kept kissing a path across your jaw, down your neck, leaving a few more warm, open-mouthed kisses that made your whole body arch toward him, desperate for more.

“You feel so good, baby… so soft,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and raspy, like the words were being dragged out of him.

You whimpered his name, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Tell me if I do something you don't like, yeah?” He said softly but firmly. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t help himself, needing to touch. “At any point, you tell me if you don't like something, and I’ll stop. I mean it.”

Your heart cracked wide open for him.

“I trust you.” You whispered, eyes shining as you nodded and reached forward, pulling him back.

Something flickered across his face at that, and then he was moving again. His hands slipped under your t-shirt fully this time, fingertips ghosting up your ribcage, and you gasped at the feeling of his palms against your bare skin. Noah eased your shirt up, pausing with a questioning look, and all you could do was nod again, breathless, heart in your throat.

Carefully, he peeled it over your head and tossed it aside, leaving your upper body bare to his gaze—his eyes darkened instantly, raking over you with a reverence that made your skin prickle. For a long moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he needed to burn the sight of you into memory.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, and then he ducked his head down, kissing along your collarbone, giving it his full attention before trailing lower.

You gasped when his mouth closed around your nipple—gentle, teasing—his tongue flicking slow, delicious circles over the sensitive skin. He gave it a soft, careful bite before soothing it with his tongue, pulling a broken little sound from you that made him groan against your chest. Moving to the other side, Noah gave it just as much attention, his big hands holding your ribs like he was scared you might slip away if he didn’t anchor you, if he didn't hold you down.

You arched up into him instinctively, needing more, needing everything, and Noah’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist, kneading the flesh there like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His fingers found the hem of your shorts at some point, toying with the waistband as he pressed his mouth lower, kissing a slow, hot path down your stomach, the scruff on his jaw dragging against your skin in a way that made you shiver. When he reached your lower belly, just above where your shorts sat, he nipped softly at the sensitive skin there, earning a whimper from you.

That’s when Noah stilled, mouth still pressed to your skin, and looked up at you through heavy, hooded eyes—his gaze burning. One of your hands threaded into his hair again, tugging lightly, and the way he closed his eyes at the feeling made your heart stumble. Wordlessly, you nodded once his eyes set back on you, giving him the permission he so clearly needed.

He kissed your stomach again, reverently, before hooking his fingers under the waistband and carefully, slowly, tugging your shorts down—inch by excruciating inch—exposing more of you to his hungry eyes. Once he pulled your shorts off and tossed them somewhere over his shoulder without taking his eyes off you, you were left trembling beneath him, stripped down to just your underwear, and Noah looked at you like you were a miracle he didn’t deserve.

You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heavy and hot, making your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat over and over.

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs—starting at your ankles, dragging his palms over your calves, your knees, your thighs, until he was cradling your hips, thumbs stroking circles into your skin.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” He rasped, voice shaking, raw with emotion. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And the way he said it—not just like he wanted you, but like he worshipped you—made your whole body ache with need, the throbbing between your legs almost unbearable by now.

You couldn’t stop the way your body shifted restlessly, legs spreading just that much wider, silently begging for more, needing him. It made Noah chuckle softly—like he could feel the way you were unraveling for him—and then he was lowering himself again, dragging the tip of his tongue just above the waistband of your panties, from one hipbone to the other.

You whimpered, and your hands found his hair again, tugging him closer without thinking.

Noah groaned deep in his chest at your touch, and his hands slid higher, smoothing up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs, until they found the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently. He paused, and looking up at you through his lashes, he grinned—slow, wicked—and moved lower to mouth over the damp fabric of your panties, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right against the heat of you.

You gasped, arching off the bed with a choked sound, and Noah groaned again, deeper this time, and kept going—kissing, licking, sucking, teasing through the thin barrier until you were clutching his hair in both hands, tugging hard, trembling.

“Fuck,” he moaned quietly against you, voice low and hungry. He nuzzled his face into you like it was the most natural thing, breathing you in, already addicted. “Oh, baby… you’re already soaking wet for me.”

Another slow, filthy kiss through the fabric, so warm it felt like burning. Another whimper ripped from your throat.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours again—eyes dark and glazed—and while one hand continued to tease your breasts, the other slid up your thigh, thumb stroking along the sensitive crease where your hip met your core, making you shiver.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” Noah rasped, kissing the damp cotton again, mouthing at it lazily. “Thinking about you like this. How fucking sweet you’d taste.”

You couldn’t stop the helpless little whimpers spilling from your lips, your hips rolling instinctively against Noah’s mouth as he kissed you through your underwear—slow, purposeful, almost torturous.

Your hands tightened in his hair yet again, needing something to ground yourself to, your heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

“Noah,” you gasped, the sound broken, desperate, and you felt him smile against you—the smug curve of his mouth pressed right where you needed him most.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, breath hot against you. “Gonna take my time with you.”

You tried to bite back a moan, but the second he sucked gently at the damp fabric again, your thighs trembled around his head and the sound tore free from your throat. You felt dizzy, drunk on the feeling of him, every nerve in your body sparking to life under his touch.

“Noah, please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for anymore—just more, just him, just now.

He hummed, pleased, and the vibration sent a sharp bolt of pleasure shooting through you.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he said, and your face flushed so hot it nearly burned.

But you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. Not when he slipped two fingers under the soaked fabric, finally pushing it aside, and leaned in to taste you properly, giving you a long, slow lick—flat and firm, from your entrance to your clit—and so good it made your whole body jolt. 

You arched up into him, crying out his name again, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was clutch his hair, hips rocking helplessly against his tongue as your voice broke again.

“Don’t stop, Noah, please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

As he kept tasting, taking, he groaned against you like he was the one falling apart, sucking your clit gently into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue until your thighs shook around his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered between kisses and licks, voice hoarse, lips slick with you. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His free hand still around your breast started squeezing again, teasing your nipple with his thumb while his mouth worked you over relentlessly, eating you out like he was starved. You whimpered something broken and incoherent, tugging at his hair hard enough to sting, nails scratching his scalp. Noah just hummed against your clit as he enjoyed it, sending another ripple of pleasure straight through you.

“That’s it, don’t hold back.” He encouraged, tongue teasing you mercilessly, “Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

And you did—because with the way he was worshiping you, savoring you, there was no way you could stay quiet, no way you could survive this slow, devastating pleasure without falling apart in his mouth.

You were already spiraling toward the edge, your body tensing and shaking and aching for release—and the way he kept murmuring sweet, filthy things against your skin only dragged you closer, unraveling every last bit of you.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

It was perfect.

You were so close—so close—your whole body tightening, hips stuttering against Noah’s mouth, and then a sharp, involuntary clench ripped through you.

Noah felt it—you knew he did, because he groaned low in his chest—and then he pulled back.

You sobbed out a desperate sound, trembling beneath him, but before you could even form the words to beg, he was hooking his fingers into the waistband of your soaked panties, finally dragging them down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room.

“Shh, baby,” he rasped, voice rough as he soothed you. “I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, still shivering from the edge he’d left you dangling from—and then he was crawling up your body, covering you again with his weight, kissing you deep and slow. You whimpered against his mouth at the taste—your taste—on his tongue, and the filthy intimacy of it made your head spin.

He swallowed every broken sound you made, one of his hands cradling your jaw, the other braced beside your head, arm trembling slightly as he supported his weight, grinding his hips down against you.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him—hard and so warm, even through the thin material of his shorts, pressing right against your core.

“Can you feel that?” Noah whispered against your lips, his voice low and hoarse. “Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

He rolled his hips again, harder this time, deliberately, and you whimpered helplessly.

“Do you get now just how fucking crazy you make me?”

Your hands scrambled at him, fingers digging into skin, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more.

“Noah,” you breathed, a pleading note in your voice you didn’t even try to hide.

He kissed you again, devouring—and rocked against you one more time, dragging yet another choked little cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, retracing a path he’d already explored. “And you’re mine, aren't you? You’re mine.”

You nodded frantically, your body straining toward him. Noah chuckled softly at your eagerness and kissed down your chest again, lavishing attention on every inch of you until he reached the curve of your stomach.

He paused there, hands sliding down your trembling thighs, gently spreading you open wider for him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Gonna stretch you out on my fingers real nice now, get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched loudly at his words, a rush of heat surging through you as you watched him settle between your legs again—this time with a kind of determined adoration that made your heart ache.

Noah pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, closer to where you needed him. And then he lowered his mouth to you again.

You gasped, hands flying to his hair like before, fingers curling tight when you felt the first slow swipe of his tongue over your aching core again, the wet muscle parting your slick folds.

You barely had time to process the overwhelming feeling of his warm tongue directly against you again before you felt one of his hands joining in, his fingers teasing lightly at your entrance, slick and desperate for him.

“Can I?” he asked against your clit, mouth still working you over in soft, devastating licks.

“Yes,” you gasped, tugging his hair, needing him, needing everything.

Noah moaned, and slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, the sensation making you whimper and arch into him.

“So tight, baby.” He muttered brokenly when you clenched around his digit, kissing the inside of your thigh like he needed to ground himself, too. “So fucking perfect.”

He moved slowly, working you open with careful, patient strokes of his finger, all while his mouth never stopped—licking, sucking, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough. When he thought you were ready, he slid in a second finger, stretching you wider, deeper, and you cried out for the millionth time, hips rolling down against him, chasing the friction you craved.

“That’s it,” Noah groaned. “Take it, princess. Gotta get you ready for me.”

You couldn’t even form words anymore, your whole world narrowing down to the feeling of him—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, the heat of his breath, the filthy praises falling from his lips between long strokes of his tongue.

All the while, you could feel it—the slow, steady build of pleasure winding tighter and tighter inside you, ready to snap. You were so close again, completely at his mercy, and you didn’t want it any other way.

Noah felt it, too—of course, he felt it—the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fingers as they fucked in and out of you, the way your thighs clamped around his head as if trying to keep him there forever.

“Go on, baby,” he rasped against you, voice thick and breathless, hand moving faster. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

Then he crooked his fingers, hitting something inside that almost made you scream, and that was all it took. You shattered completely, reduced to nothing more than a whimpering, broken mess as pleasure tore through you like a tidal wave.

Your whole back arched off the bed, your fingers fisting tight in Noah’s hair as he kept going, working you through every last pulse, every desperate little aftershock. You were vaguely aware of Noah moaning, too, while he licked all over your core, around his fingers still stretching you, like he was addicted to the way you tasted, the way you fell apart for him.

You barely registered when he finally pulled back, kissed his way up your shaking body, and hovered over you—his face flushed, his mouth and chin slick from you, his eyes dark with something wild.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue again. You whimpered into his mouth, still shaking, still high from your climax.

Noah kissed you again and again as he cradled your face in his hands like you were something fragile and precious, patient as he waited for you to come back down from your high.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured when your breathing wasn't so loud anymore, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded, still breathless but less so now, still blinking back the tears of overwhelming pleasure pooling behind your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fuck, I’m more than okay.”

Noah smiled against your mouth—small, crooked, so full of love. He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you—and brushed a stray strand of hair off your forehead, his thumb stroking your cheek in soothing, grounding circles.

“Do you wanna stop here for tonight?” He asked, voice low and careful, gentle with the kind of patience that always made your heart ache. “We can, if you need to. We don’t have to do everything all at once. I’m not going anywhere.”

You blinked up at him, still flushed, trembling, and felt panic bloom in your chest at the thought of stopping now, at the thought of not feeling him completely.

“No—no, please,” you rushed out, voice cracking, hands sliding desperately up his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, I want all of you, Noah. Please.”

Noah’s eyes softened, so full of emotion that it almost hurt to look at him.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours for a second before soothing you with a kiss to your temple, your cheek, your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. We’ll do it, okay? I want it too, princess. I want you so fucking bad.”

He said it like a confession before kissing you again, slow and lingering, like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn't achingly hard and craving relief himself. You could feel him, though—hot and hard through his basketball shorts, pressing against you—and a frustrated little sound broke from you because it wasn’t enough, the layers between you feeling unbearable.

Without second-guessing, you let your hands slide down his bare chest—hot and solid under your touch—until you were pulling impatiently at the waistband of his basketball shorts with clumsy little tugs.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at you, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth, his eyes dark with heat.

“You want them off me, princess?” He teased, voice rough and sweet all at once, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“Yes.” Your face burned, but you refused to look away—you nodded, all flushed and desperate, and whispered, “I—I want to see you.”

Something about that—the honesty of it, the way your voice trembled—made the teasing fall right off his face.

Noah sat back on his heels between your spread legs, kneeling there, before he pushed his shorts down slowly, the fabric sliding over his thighs until it bunched at his knees. He kicked them off the bed without ever standing up, leaving him in just his tight black underwear.

The sight of him made your whole body clench, heat flooding your core all over again.

His cock strained against the thin fabric, thick and heavy and leaking, leaving a dark wet spot at the tip, and your mouth parted at the sight, a needy little gasp slipping from your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

Noah’s smirk returned, lazy and devastating.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He rasped, palming himself through the thin material, deliberately showing off for you. He stroked himself lazily, the pressure making his hips jerk slightly, a low groan rumbling out of him.

Your entire body ached at the sight, heat flooding between your legs, making you shift restlessly on the bed. Noah watched you squirm, his hand still working himself through the cotton, and tilted his head slightly, voice rough with need, but still amused.

“Is this enough for you?” He murmured. “Or do you wanna see more?”

“More,” you whispered immediately, almost desperate.

He smiled again, much too pleased, and reached for the waistband of his underwear, fingers hooking into the sides. But before he could push it down, you shot forward, sitting up fast enough to make his eyes widen in surprise for a second.

Your hands closed around his wrists, stopping him.

“Let me,” you whispered, voice shaking with how badly you needed this, needed him, needed to touch, to see.

For a moment, Noah just stared at you, like you’d knocked the breath clean out of his lungs. Then he nodded, slowly, amazed, his hands falling away, surrendering himself completely to you.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m all yours, princess.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and hooked them into the waistband of his underwear. Noah stayed perfectly still—watching you with that reverent look you’ve seen so many times tonight, like you were something sacred—as you slowly peeled the last barrier down his hips, revealing him inch by agonizing inch.

You sucked in a shaky breath when his cock finally sprung free and you saw him fully—thick, flushed, perfect. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and Noah groaned at the way your eyes visibly darkened, pupils blown, his cock twitching slightly under your hungry gaze.

"Jesus, baby," he rasped, voice unsteady. "You’re gonna kill me."

You didn’t even realize you were biting your lip while you stared at him until he reached out, brushing his thumb over your mouth, tugging it free with a soft, coaxing touch.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he murmured, so gentle, so patient. "We’ll go slow. I promise I'll take care of you."

"I know," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "I—I’m not nervous. I just..." Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t lie. Not now, not to him. "I want you so bad, Noah."

Something inside Noah snapped at the confession. His hands slid back to your body, pulling you against him as he kissed you hard—hungry—his cock pressing hot and heavy against your bare stomach.

He swallowed every whimper, every soft little moan you made, kissing you so deep it felt like you’d never be able to catch your breath again. His hands were everywhere—roaming your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of any part of you.

One of them slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly and pulling you tighter against him before Noah ground his cock against your stomach as he kissed down your neck. The weight of him there made your insides flip, heat pooling between your legs as your thighs tried to press together instinctively.

You couldn’t help it—you kept glancing down between your bodies, your face flushing deeper the longer you stared. You didn’t have much to go on—no frame of reference, not really. You’d never seen a dick in person before, let alone had one pressed against you like this, but Noah looked big.

Thick, too—perfectly thick. The kind of heavy weight that made your breath stutter in your throat, made you ache to feel him inside you even though you had no idea how you’d possibly take him.

Noah must’ve noticed where your gaze kept flickering, because he let out a soft, breathless chuckle against your neck.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind if you keep looking at me like that, baby.” He teased, his voice a low rasp as he nipped at your skin. His hand squeezed your ass again, pulling you closer so you could feel every inch of him pressed right up against your belly, precum dampening the skin.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding in your ears as you dragged your eyes back up to his, cheeks burning.

“I just—” Your voice cracked, and you bit your lip before forcing the words out, quiet and breathless. “I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, tone soft but still dripping with amusement as he pressed a trail of kisses along your jaw again, following it up until his lips were lingering just below your ear.

Your breath stuttered, embarrassment and arousal tangling together when you whispered, “You’re just… really big. I guess.”

Noah cursed softly at that, his hips grinding against you harder, teeth grazing your skin as his grip on you tightened, the motion sending sparks of heat straight through your core.

You chuckled shyly at his reaction, cheeks burning hotter, but couldn’t stop yourself from looking down again—your curiosity overpowering the lingering nervousness fluttering in your chest.

You hesitated for half a second, and then, in the smallest, breathiest voice, you whispered, "Can I touch you?"

Noah’s whole body jerked—a rough sound breaking free from his chest, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or moan or cry.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Yeah, baby. God, yes. Please."

He let himself fall back a little, settling more heavily on his heels as he knelt between your thighs, giving you the space, the invitation.

Your fingers still trembled a little as you reached out, but the moment you wrapped your hand around him—finally—a sharp, broken moan tore out of Noah’s throat, hips giving an involuntary little twitch at the first brush of your hand.

His cock was hot and heavy in your palm, the silky skin stretched tight over the thickness of him, pulsing faintly against your touch. You stroked him slowly, experimentally, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his stomach tensed, the way his breath hitched with every little movement.

He was—God, he was beautiful. Thick and long, with a perfect flushed tip that leaked precum, making your palm slippery as you slowly started to move your hand up and down a bit more confidently.

Noah’s head dropped back slightly, his mouth falling open in a choked-off groan. His hands fisted in the sheets beside your hips, like he was physically stopping himself from doing something reckless.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, wonderingly, tightening your fingers a little just to see his stomach twitch in response.

“Fuck, baby—” he gasped, his voice a wreck. He cracked his eyes open, looking at you through heavy lids, pupils blown wide. “Jesus, princess, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bit your lip again, utterly fascinated by the way his body responded to even the lightest touch from you—every little gasp, every shudder, every twitch of his hips.

Encouraged, you shifted closer, wrapping your other hand around the base of him too, stroking him with slow, careful movements, getting bolder as you watched him come undone. Noah growled low in his throat, his hips jerking helplessly into your hands, his entire body tensing.

“Fucking hell, baby, you keep doing that,” he panted, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, “and I’m not gonna last long enough to be inside you.”

You tightened your fingers a little at the praise, dragging your hands up and down in slow, careful strokes, watching the way his cock twitched and leaked under your touch. Your mouth watered for a second time at the sight, a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong it made your lower abdomen ache.

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering—and then, reckless with the heady rush of control you had over him, you whispered, “Can't have that, can we? Need you to fuck me. Want to know what you feel like stretching me open.”

You could see the moment Noah snapped.

He surged forward, kissing you hard, swallowing the whimper that escaped your lips. His hands slid back down your body, urgent now, needy—one guiding your hips back down against the bed, the other gripping the back of your thigh, hitching it up around his waist as he settled over you.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he breathed against your mouth, voice hoarse and shaking, pleading. “Tell me you want this.”

“I’m ready,” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, Noah—I want you. I need you.”

He groaned like you’d just handed him the world—and then he was reaching between you, lining himself up, the thick, leaking head of his cock sliding through the slickness between your thighs, making you both shudder.

But just as he pressed a little harder, enough to make you gasp, Noah squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to stop. He let out a shuddering breath against your lips, almost in pain.

“Wait—wait a second, baby,” he rasped. His hand slipped away from you, fumbling blindly toward the nightstand. “I need to grab a condom.”

“No,” you gasped immediately, your hands flying to his chest, stopping him. “No, please—I don’t want one.”

He blinked down at you, stunned.

“Baby—fuck—I don’t wanna risk anything, and I don’t wanna—”

“I’m on the pill,” you rushed out, desperate. “Ever since we moved here I've been on the pill, I swear. I just—” You swallowed hard, flushing. “I want to feel you. All of you. Please, Noah. I want to feel it when you come inside me.”

Noah made a sound you could only describe as wrecked, his whole body shaking above you, hands trembling against your skin as he tried, tried, to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity.

“Jesus Christ, princess,” he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You kissed the side of his head, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the way he was already giving in. He always gave in to you.

“Please,” you whispered again, right against his ear. “I want all of you. I want you to make a mess of me.”

That was it.

Noah let out a harsh, broken sound, and then he was lining himself up again, nudging his hips forward, the thick head of his cock pressing in slowly—just a fraction before he froze, a strangled groan ripping from his chest.

The heat of you, the way you squeezed around just the tip of him, nearly ended him right then and there.

“Fucking hell,” he choked, voice broken. “You’re so tight.”

You whimpered, clawing at his hips instinctively as the thick stretch made you burn and sting, pleasure and pain knotting together deep in your belly. He felt huge inside you—too much and somehow not enough all at once.

Noah immediately stilled, chest heaving against yours, his hands finding your hips to anchor you—and himself—gently stroking over your skin in soothing, grounding motions.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered against your forehead, lips pressed to the already damp skin. His voice trembled with restraint. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The pain won't last, I promise. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nodded, desperate tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you tried to relax, breathing hard against his chin as you angled your head up. You didn’t want him to stop—you just needed a second, needed to get used to it.

Noah kissed you then, deep and soft, while he held himself there—barely inside you—until he felt the iron tightness in your muscles start to ease, your body slowly learning to open for him.

“Good girl,” he murmured into your mouth, voice breaking. He brushed his thumb over your trembling hipbone, breathing you in like a prayer. “You feel so good—so perfect around me, baby.”

You whimpered again, nails digging into the small of his back, desperate for more even through the burn.

“More,” you breathed. “Please, Noah—more.”

He let out a shuddering groan, forehead pressing against yours—and then he pushed in deeper, just an inch more, stretching you open around the thick weight of him.

You gasped, a sharp, choked sound against his mouth as the sting sharpened—your walls fluttering desperately around him—and Noah immediately kissed you again, swallowing your sounds, his whole body shaking from the effort it took to stay gentle, to stay slow.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered raggedly against your lips. “You’re taking me so good, though. Just a little more, I promise. Here, let me—”

His hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with careful fingers, and he started circling it in slow, featherlight strokes—barely there at first, coaxing, soothing, trying to pull you back into pleasure.

You gasped again, but this time the sound was softer, needier. The burn didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled, blurred, eclipsed by the sweet rush of pleasure blooming low in your belly as Noah worked you open with his cock, his hands, his words—every part of him devoted to making it good for you.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice shaking. His forehead rested against yours as he rocked his hips ever so slightly, still shallow, still slow. “That’s my good girl.”

You moaned, clenching helplessly around him again, and Noah nearly lost it—gritting his teeth, fighting to keep control as he felt your body start to yield to him, start to welcome him inside.

He slid deeper again, hips rocking before giving you time to adjust, to breathe through it, to feel every inch of him. And when he finally bottomed out, when his hips met the insides of your thighs and he was fully buried inside you, both of you just clung to each other—panting, trembling, overwhelmed.

You whimpered after a while, hips shifting instinctively beneath him, desperate for more, for him to move, to do something.

“You can move,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging, scratching his scalp. “Please, Noah. I need you to—”

But he shook his head, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body shuddering like he was hanging on by a thread.

“I—fuck, I need a second,” he rasped, voice breaking apart. “You feel so good, baby. Too good. If I move right now, I’ll lose it.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your hands through his hair now just to soothe him.

“How long’s it been for you?” You whispered curiously, smiling against his mouth.

Noah pulled back a little—just enough to look you in the eye—and what you saw there made your smile falter.

The rawness. The fear. The love.

It was too much for him to hide.

“Since I was eighteen,” he said hoarsely.

You blinked, stunned, your heart stumbling.

“What?” You breathed, sounding as surprised as you felt. “But—”

“My first time was my only time,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours like he needed the contact, like he needed you close enough to survive this.

You stared at him, struggling to make the dots connect through the haze in your mind.

Eighteen.

He was twenty-two now.

Only once, and nothing since.

Because—?

You barely dared to ask. Your voice cracked when you whispered:

“Why?”

He exhaled a broken little sound, closing his eyes for a second like he didn’t even know how to explain it. Then he opened them again, and you nearly drowned in the weight of his gaze.

“Because it wasn’t you,” he said simply, helplessly. “I tried, okay? I thought it would help drown out the way I felt about you.” His thumb brushed your cheek, reverent. “But it didn’t. It just made it worse. It made me realize I didn’t want anyone else. Couldn’t want anyone else.”

Your throat closed up, your eyes stinging with sudden, overwhelming tears. The full force of it crashed into you all at once—

All these years. All this time.

And he’d always loved you. Even when you hadn’t known. Even when you hadn’t seen it. Even when you pretended not to.

A shaky sob bubbled up in your chest, but you didn't want to cry, not now, not like this—so you kissed him, kissed him like you were trying to pour all the shattered pieces of yourself into him, your hands frantic against his bare skin, grabbing, gripping, squeezing.

“Noah,” you whispered, a broken plea, barely able to speak, to breathe. “Please, I—I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, and I need—”

He didn’t answer, because he didn’t have to. He knew exactly what you meant, and he gave you what you needed, like he's always done.

Only this time was so much better, because there was nothing else between you now. Nothing else in the world.

Noah drew back, just enough to pull his hips away—and then he pushed forward, sinking into you again with slow, reverent force, filling you until your back arched and a sharp gasp punched from your lungs.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, and he groaned against your mouth—deep, guttural, broken—as he moved in you, moved with you, careful, patient, trying so desperately to give you time, to give you everything.

He rocked his hips once, twice, three times, and you whimpered, wrapping your legs tighter around him like you couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

“More,” you gasped. “Noah, please—more.”

He kissed you again, messy and breathless, and you could feel how badly he wanted to give it to you, how hard he was holding himself back just for you.

And then, when you tilted your hips to meet him, when you whispered one more desperate, wrecked, “Please” against his lips—he finally gave in.

Noah’s rhythm deepened, the slow roll of his hips picking up force, each thrust dragging another helpless sound from your throat. The ache, the stretch, the sweet friction—it was overwhelming, it was everything. It set every nerve ending alight, made your fingers scrabble at his shoulders, made your body arch into his with reckless need.

“You feel—” he choked out against your ear, losing the words as his pace quickened, as your walls fluttered around him and your moans filled the space between your bodies. “Jesus, baby—you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You couldn’t even answer—you could only hold onto him, feeling him drive into you harder, deeper, until every thought dissolved. The feeling of him inside you was almost too much, too good, driving you higher with every deep, perfect thrust.

And there was only him, only this, only forever.

Noah’s hand slid between you, finding your clit again, rubbing tight, desperate circles that made you cry out, made your body clamp down around him without warning.

“Fuck,” Noah choked out, voice breaking against your mouth. “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You were—you always had been—and the way you clung to him, the way your body responded, said it louder than any words ever could.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that,” he groaned, hips stuttering as you tightened again, your body greedy for him, for all of him, the pleasure spiraling fast and out of control.

You whimpered, threading your fingers through his hair, dragging him closer, needing him deeper, needing everything.

He shifted his weight slightly, pulling one of your legs up higher around his waist, and the new angle made you keen—made him press against that devastating spot inside you with every roll of his hips.

“Right there?” he murmured, smiling against the skin of your cheek when you writhed beneath him.

“Yes, yes—oh my god, please—” You gasped, voice wrecked and high and desperate. “I’m—I’m so close, I can’t—”

“Me too,” Noah groaned, picking up his pace now, hips slapping into yours harder, faster. “You feel so good, baby—fucking made for me.”

He shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made the pleasure snap like a live wire through your entire body—and then you broke.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard it nearly blinded you, your whole body locking up tight around him, shuddering, trembling, sobbing his name.

“Fuck, that's it, that's it, pretty girl,” he rasped, forehead pressing against yours, the muscles of his back flexing under your palms as he fucked you through it, driving into you faster, chasing his own high. “Fucking come for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”

Noah cursed low and broken against your skin, thrusting deep one last time before he lost it too—burying himself to the hilt as he came, hot and overwhelming, the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer as he spilled inside you.

You clung to each other through it all, panting, shaking, completely wrecked—completely his.

When you were both done, neither of you moved for a while.

Noah stayed buried deep inside you, pressed as close as he could get, breathing hard, holding you like he never wanted to let go. His hands were everywhere again—petting your hair, tracing your spine, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your hips.

“You okay?” He finally whispered, voice hoarse, broken with tenderness.

You nodded against his shoulder, still trembling, still trying to breathe him back into your lungs.

“I’m perfect,” you whispered back. “Because of you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the way he did it—like you were everything, nothing but unfiltered adoration in his eyes—made you feel like you were simultaneously suffocating and coming up for air.

Slowly, carefully, he eased out of you, murmuring soft apologies at the sting, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But before you could even miss him, Noah was gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, covering every inch of your bare skin he could reach with adoring, lingering kisses.

You both stayed like that, tangled up in each other, sweaty and shaky and wrecked, until your heartbeats finally slowed, until the only sound was your quiet breathing and the soft brush of Noah’s lips against your hair.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, so soft you almost thought you imagined it.

But you heard it—you heard it, and you knew, without any fear or doubt or hesitation, that you loved him too. And when you whispered it back, he pulled you impossibly closer, as if he was stitching you into his soul.

You fell asleep like that—wrapped up in Noah, wrapped up in love—knowing deep down that nothing would ever be the same again.

You couldn't have been more okay with that.

hiii, v! 🤗 i chose the "you're shaking" – "so are you" dialogue prompt for this one 'cause nobody's asked for that one yet and i wanted to try it hehe. also, i'm sorry it took me this long to post your request, but i got so carried away with this one and it turned out way bigger than i planned, so it took me a moment there to finish lol. i hope the 9.3k words of pure fluff and smut made up for the delay here. hope you enjoyed this, friend! x

[littlegrapejuice]

Small Friend? | IH6

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x Reader

Summary: You've seen many drivers get a seat at Racing Bulls, but only one managed to charm you. So thank God that it's not for your knowledge of French that the team hired you, because it almost cost you a relationship.

Author's Note: ok so I'm acc posting later than i had originally planned bc i realised i hadn't proofread the fic nor decided on da pics till an hour ago😭 (+ i gotta edit on tumblr so it takes even more time) anywayyyys i hope you enjoy<3

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

Since working for Racing Bulls, there was one opinion you’ve always had over the last couple years: you had seen way too many different drivers go through one single seat. You also thought they’d had too many name changes but this was a whole other thing.

You had first joined the team during an internship for your first year of university. You were starting the engineering degree you’d always dreamt of, and landing an internship in motorsports had been your main goal when your teachers were asking every student to find something before the end of the first term.

You had been lucky enough to end up at AlphaTauri, which had been employing the iconic duo formed by Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda at the time. You were obviously not working at the track during race weekends, but you had eventually met them after a few months at the factory where you spent every other week. You were over the moon when the team accepted to keep you for your second year of university, glad to have shown them your potential.

You hadn’t expected it, but you were apparently doing good enough of a job that you were one day allowed to assist the team during a grand prix. This wasn’t the first race you attended – having gone to Imola and Monza when you were younger, courtesy of your father who was a big motosports fan – but this was the first race you worked at. It was everything you had expected, but so much more at the same time. The paddock was overwhelming and the garage was even louder than the noise you would hear at the factory, but in a good way. You felt like a kid opening their Christmas presents, and you couldn’t wait to prove to the team that they wouldn’t regret having brought you there.

And it worked. Despite a couple rookie mistakes that were insignificant, you had done your job correctly and you were soon to be rewarded for it.

Having noticed you for your young age, Pierre and Yuki had both wanted to know more about you as they only knew your name from when they had met you at the factory. They asked you questions about your life, your dreams, and how you felt amongst the team. They had both been so nice and welcoming, you were glad that they were the current pairing for AlphaTauri. It seemed that you had also made a good impression on them because several weeks later, you were being called for another grand prix, and another, and another, until you were coming to almost every race for the last half of the season.

The team knew that you had to focus on your studies as well, but they were pulling a few strings that were mysteriously improving your attendance even when you weren’t even present in the classroom. The AlphaTauri duo had eventually let it slip that they had vouched for you to have more responsibilities, and you sometimes wondered if you were really that good at your job or if they just enjoyed your company – both, if someone were to ask them.

So as you spent more time with the drivers, you actually befriended them. They taught you about the spots to hit around certain tracks, recommended you good restaurants – mostly Yuki, and they even forced you to know some basic sentences in their respective native language. Pierre was definitely a better teacher than Yuki, and it also helped that French was easier to learn since you already knew Italian.

The next year, you unfortunately had to say goodbye to Pierre who was joining Alpine and this was the season during which you had seen too many driver changes. From Nyck de Vries starting the year to Daniel Ricciardo who had then replaced him, you had also met Liam Lawson. It was hard for you to actually create a bond with each driver, and you mostly stayed in Yuki’s side of the garage. On the one hand, you wished for Yuki to one day join Red Bull because you knew that he had the potential. On the other hand, you were kind of glad that he was still in AlphaTauri with you.

Eventually you were reaching your fourth year of university, and you still couldn’t believe the fact that you had spent almost the entirety of the first three with the same company. To be honest, it had played in your favour that the F1 seasons and academic years weren’t the same. This meant that every time you were starting a new school year, you were technically still employed for the end of season, and the team didn’t think much about keeping you for the next one.

So here you were, in the last term of your final year, ready to make the 2025 F1 season a success. AlphaTauri had become Racing Bulls the previous year – actually VCARB – and you were still wondering why they needed to change their name so often. Now more than ever, you really hoped that after completing your degree, the team would keep you and offer you a full-time job for the rest of the season. According to Yuki, you were already doing as much of a job as the other employed engineers, but he understood why you wanted the actual validation that came after your years-long internship.

Part of you was still missing Pierre years later, but Yuki having a new French teammate made you think about the Japanese driver attracting them. You hadn’t talked much with Isack since he had been given the RB seat, but from what Yuki told you, he was really nice and always matching his energy.

You had met the F2 vice-champion during the pre-season tests and to say that it was still haunting you was an understatement. You had actually been excited to meet him at first: he was a couple years younger than you, but you were glad that you wouldn’t be the youngest anymore in the garage. You had even practiced your rusty French – which you hadn’t talked much since Pierre left – but when Yuki had introduced you to Isack, your brain had short-circuited for whatever reason. It was definitely not because Isack had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen. You remembered the lack of words coming out of your mouth, as you had then awkwardly settled for a regular greeting in English before Isack replied more confidently with his thick accent.

Following this meeting, you’d had no choice but to give up on speaking French with Isack, too scared that you’d embarrass yourself once again. This fear somehow grew bigger every time you’d hear Isack let some French slip up, force of habit you supposed. You had heard the occasional “putain” (fuck) and “merde” (shit), which meanings were quite easy to remember from the amount of times that Pierre had also said those words.

However, your lack of knowledge regarding actual grammar, conjugation, vocabulary – literally everything, let’s be honest – was soon evident to Isack. Indeed, you had once caught him talking to Laurent Mekies – in French, of course – and the confusion on your face had been so obvious that Yuki had begun laughing next to you. It wasn’t like Yuki had understood anything himself, but he knew that you were supposed to be more familiar with the language than him. Safe to say, he hadn’t wasted any time texting Pierre and talking to Isack about it. On the one hand, the oldest of the two Frenchmen had relentlessly teased you, disappointed that you hadn’t kept learning despite his departure from the Italian team. On the other hand, the youngest driver had thought of another idea.

From one race weekend to another, Isack had started to come up to you more often as the season went by. You were glad for the blossoming friendship, but one of his actions always left you confused at the end of your conversations. It would always start as usual: discussing the race, the possible weather, the choices of tyre strategy… Yuki would be present the majority of the time; but every time it would just be you and Isack, the driver would always end the conversation with something in French. So this was what happened during your most recent one:

“J’adore ton maquillage d’ailleurs (I love your makeup by the way)”, Isack had told you. “Ton rouge à lèvres fait ressortir ton beau sourire (your lipstick highlights your pretty smile)”.

Obviously, you had been completely lost as to what it meant. The only things you were familiar with were “lèvres” (lips) and “sourire” (smile) as you remembered learning how to describe yourself, but that was about it. The next time wasn’t any better as it had been a similar situation: another French sentence, another confusion.

“Tu devrais attacher tes cheveux plus souvent, c’est plus facile pour admirer tes yeux (you should wear your hair up more often, it’s easier to admire your eyes)”.

You wished you could be mad at him every time you asked him to translate, your head tilting to the side with a frown, but the innocent smile he kept giving was always enough to immediately make you forget about whatever he had said to you.

And as the races went by, Isack didn’t stop this little ritual, even pushing it to actual pick-up lines – not that you would notice the change in meanings. You couldn’t even write down what Isack was saying to translate it later; he was speaking so French-y that you had a hard time even picking up individual words. Your only hypothesis was that he was teasing about something – what, you didn’t know – but given his tone and what you knew about him, it could never be something mean or hurtful. 

…..

It had been a few months since Isack had begun the tradition. You had to admit you were a bit frustrated by the fact that you still didn't understand him any better, even though you had started to study French again to improve your level. Talking with Pierre or Esteban was sometimes useful, but they weren’t part of your team and you didn’t want to practice with Isack until you had reached a somewhat acceptable level.

However, it seemed that this milestone would happen sooner than expected as a conversation with Pierre about Isack’s quirk made you realise what had been obvious from the beginning.

“You want to tell me you didn’t get that he was flirting with you for all those months?” If Pierre’s eyes could go any wider than how they currently were, they would. “Oh mon Dieu… (oh my God). You’re unbelievable!”

“I mean… whenever we talk, it’s in English and about racing!” You retorted. “I never understand what he’s saying in French, how would I know it was flirting?”

“The way he looks at you?” Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Avec son sourire niais là (with his stupid smile). This is un-be-lie-va-ble,” he repeated while accentuating each syllable.

“How do you even know what’s he been saying to me?” You wondered. “I don’t remember seeing your bald head lurking around my garage.”

“I’m gonna forget the bald comment and reply anyway.” The driver leaned back on the wall, with a sigh. “You don’t think Isack thought of every pick-up line by himself, do you?”

“They were all pick-up lines?”

“Most of them”, Pierre explained. “It was just compliments at first.”

“Wow, okay…” You didn't know what to think anymore.

Isack had always been friendly, of course. And you liked spending time around him. And you liked whenever he had time to talk to you, something he didn’t do with every member of the team. And yes, you even liked the random French sentences even if you couldn’t understand a word for months. And you liked his smile, his laugh, his determination, his passion for racing, his kindness. And–

“Hello?” Pierre waved his hand in front of your face. “What are you daydreaming about, now?”

“Just thinking about what I should do now…”

“Easy,” someone other than Pierre replied. “You flirt back in a language he doesn’t understand. That way, you’re even.”

Without a care, Yuki – who had been listening to the conversation for a couple minutes – went to stand next to Pierre.

“How long have you been listening?” You asked, confused as to why you hadn’t noticed.

“Didn’t hear everything,” Yuki admitted. “Just from the part when Pierre says he helped Isack flirt with you, which is the most surprising part of the story.”

“Okay, rude? First, please don’t gang up on me. Second, I agree with the idea though. She gotta flirt back now that she finally realised – even if it wasn’t alone – that Isack is in love with her.”

“Let’s not go that far and say he’s in love with me,” you argued.

“Close enough, to be honest.” Yuki thought for a second. “You know I love you, but I cannot stand hearing him simp for you every fucking time I’m with him.”

“Okay, so what? I flirt back, and then?”

“I don’t know, go make out or whatever young people do when they like each other.”

“Respectfully Pierre, absolutely not. Even though it didn’t start like a normal relationship–”

“There’s no relationship right now,” Yuki clarified.

“Seriously?” You glared at Yuki, and kept going. “Anyways, even though it didn’t start – yet – like a normal relationship, I’m not fucking up everything based on Pierre’s stupid idea. But, I guess I can just ask him out directly.”

“You actually like him?” Yuki asked, feigning confusion.

“Yes? I swear to God, you make zero effort to help me.” If you could, you would just leave the conversation. “Pierre, I’ll unfortunately be counting solely on you so please give me like one or two good French pick-up lines so I can kinda get back at him. Not the same that you gave to Isack, though.”

“You can count on me, don’t worry. I’ll coach you on your pronunciation and delivery for the next race, you’ll be ready in no time.”

“Thank you. At least someone is being helpful.”

“Guys this was literally my idea,” Yuki complained. “You’re ungrateful. I hope Isack rejects you.”

“No you don’t?” You argued.

“I don’t, yes. But still you’ll get karma for your disrespect”, Yuki threatened.

“Eh, send it my way.” You shrugged, a smile on your face.

The conversation then ended in a playful atmosphere. You were glad to still have a solid friendship with both –formerly – AlphaTauri drivers, and truly hoped that you would soon be able to share the good news of being successful with Isack.

…..

Fast forward to the next grand prix, you and Pierre had dutifully practiced some pick-up lines for you to use on Isack. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, and you really hoped that only one of them would be enough to charm Isack. But of course, things wouldn’t go as you had planned.

Waiting until after qualifying to not disrupt him before getting in the car, you had also distracted your own brain from the stress while talking about some strategies for tomorrow with other engineers. When Isack was out of the car, you lingered not far away in the garage in order to find the best moment to come up to him. When he was done talking to Laurent, you jumped at the opportunity of having Isack alone. As he saw you, his smile brightened. You knew he would eventually throw another French sentence at you, but your current goal was to be the one to say it first. So as usual, you talked to him about the weekend and congratulated him on his good qualifying position. Then, as the moment felt right, you went for it:

“Tu sais que si tu étais le temps d’un verbe, tu serais le plus-que-parfait? (you know that if you were a verb tense, you’d be the plu perfect – to be literally translated as more than perfect)” You tried to put on your most innocent smile, as if you hadn’t played him at his own game. Your accent hadn’t been the best, but Pierre had assured you that your words were perfectly understandable and that it was even more charming.

“Quoi? (what)” Isack almost didn’t hear what you had said, not expecting at all for you to speak French. “Wait, what did you say?”

Thinking about what he had always done, you didn’t cave in and didn’t repeat yourself. You were about to continue the conversation in English as if nothing had happened, but fate had other plans.

Out of nowhere, Isack’s PR manager came up to the two of you. She gave you a smile and a nod, before taking Isack’s arm.

“Canal wants a word with you, Isack. You did great today, so they need to interview their country’s driver.”

“What?” Isack was half-listening, still hung up on your words. His manager motioned for him to follow her, which he mindlessly did. His gaze, however, was still on you as he walked towards the media pen. “We’ll talk later!” He exclaimed, almost out of hearing from the other side of the garage.

…..

You hadn’t talked later, not on that same day at least. After Isack had been pulled away from you for his interviews, you had been called by the senior engineers who wanted to share some information about the car with you. Therefore, you hadn’t seen Isack for the rest of the day.

It was now Sunday. The race would start soon, and you knew that you would be thinking about the situation for the next two hours, but you couldn’t go to Isack now and risk disrupting his focus. Your own concentration would have to stay still and not waver. The support Yuki and Pierre had given you yesterday had been helpful, after you had texted them a pretty self-explanatory message:

I think I fucked up lol

Their only replies had been to set a dinner time for the three of you to meet, and you had all spent the entire evening discussing the situation. They agreed that you hadn’t “fucked up”, as Isack hadn’t rejected you. You still had a chance, and it would wait until after the race to be proven true.

…..

The race had gone well for Isack and your friends. All finishing in points, you were proud of their performance. You knew your team would celebrate later tonight, having been asked to join. And you would have accepted, if not for the eye contact that you had exchanged with Isack when he got out of his car. His eyes were still filled with the same determination that fueled him during the race, but there was also another purpose hidden behind.

Like a silent conversation, you and Isack were agreeing without a word to talk later – actually talk later this time.

So after the car was dismantled; after Isack had done every interview he was asked to; after you exchanged about the race with the rest of the team and was finally ready to leave the paddock, you sent a quick text to Isack:

Meet me @ the main entrance, near the parking lot

Isack hadn’t replied, but you didn’t mind as he was walking towards you mere minutes later. You were glad that most people – as in the fans – had left, except for some team employees, as the area was quite empty. You hadn’t expected you and Isack to actually talk there, thinking that you would both go back together to the city, but he apparently had other plans.

“So, what was that yesterday? You’re fluent in French now?”

“Absolutely not”, you admitted. “I still have the knowledge of a toddler, but yesterday was courtesy of Pierre – whom you can also thank I think?”

“Touché”, Isack chuckled with a shrug. “Guess he’s been rooting for both of us, then.”

“Rooting for what, exactly?” You asked, feigning ignorance. Although you had been determined to make the first move this weekend, it hadn’t gone like you had originally planned and you were now more comfortable with letting Isack take the reins as he had been doing so for the past few months.

“For us to ask each other out”, he casually replied. “Or at least for me to do so.”

“And will you do that?” You were faking confidence; but deep down, you were internally giggling and blushing at the situation. This wasn’t everyday that your crush was asking you out, and you had to stay composed.

“If you can already tell me that you’ll accept, then yes I’ll pop the question.” This was Isack’s way to make sure that you were both on the same wavelength.

“If you were to pop the question that actually means getting married, I’d say it’s a tad too soon.” Isack blushed at your words, not realising he had planned your future a bit too far ahead, and scratched his head with a nervous laugh. “But a question regarding a first date? Yeah, I think I’ll say yes to that.”

“Okay, so dinner tonight? You and me?” He flashed you one of those smiles that you adored.

“Lead the way”, you said with a grin.

So Isack did. You thus both ended up at a restaurant not far away from the track, with a beautiful view of the city illuminated by the street lights under the night sky.

Dinner had been more than pleasant. The atmosphere had been friendly like it usually was between the two of you, but something else lingered. You hadn't yet confessed your respective feelings, but it was clear to each of you that the other was sharing the same thoughts.

You complimented Isack on his race, your smile softer than usual. He thanked you for the support you always offered him and the team. You both talked about your graduation that would happen soon, and you hinted at needing a date for the event. He gladly took up your offer, and told you how much he was proud of you for achieving your dream. You then also reminded him that he had been achieving his for so many years as well.

When you were done, Isack walked you back to your shared hotel – where most of the Racing Bulls employees were staying. You hadn’t seen how time flew by until you were in front of your room. Isack had been a floor below yours, but he had argued that he was a proper gentleman and that he should do things right when you mentioned him getting off the lift before you.

So here you were, both awkwardly standing in the corridor. This was the moment of truth: were you supposed to confess right now? Right before going to bed? Would he want to kiss you?

A strange newly-found confidence suddenly rose in you, and you thought of the one sentence that would seal the deal, without ruining the vibe.

“Wanna know something?” You first tried to catch his attention by using English, which worked as Isack looked at you before nodding. “Je viens de me rendre compte que tu ressembles beaucoup à mon futur copain (I just noticed, but you look a lot like my future boyfriend)”.

It took the driver a few seconds to process your words. But when he did, he began laughing and the smile on his face kept getting wider.

“Oh mon Dieu… (oh my God)” Isack put his face in his hands, as he tried and failed to hide how much he was blushing. “Did Pierre give you this one too?” You nodded with a proud smile and Isack couldn’t help but think that you looked really cute right now – more than usual. “Wait, you do mean copain as in boyfriend, right?”

“Is that not what it means?” You didn’t think you had mistaken the word, repeating exactly what Pierre had taught you.

“It does, yeah. But it’s like… slang, I guess?” Isack was unsure how to explain. “Not exactly slang, but usually we would say petit copain for boyfriend, and copain alone is actually just a friend.”

“So like, small friend?” You translated with a chuckle. “It’s quite fitting you, I guess.”

“That’s mean, you’re literally the same height as me!”

“I deeply apologise for my rudeness then, small boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say yes, though.” Isack played pretend, but deep down he was still flustered by you speaking French.

“Yet”, you pointed out. “But I didn’t actually ask a question.”

“Which I’m waiting for you to ask.”

“I like you Isack,” you said with honesty in your tone. “Like… really like you. So, hmm… veux-tu être mon petit copain? (do you want to be my boyfriend?)”

“Je vais pas dire non (how could i refuse).” When you looked at him in confusion, Isack realised that Pierre definitely hadn’t covered that in your French lessons. “I can’t say no to that, so… Yes, I absolutely want to be your boyfriend.”

Despite being in your early twenties, you could now proudly say that you finally had your first boyfriend. And what was even better was that he shared your love for racing. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Pierre’s and Yuki’s faces when you would tell them the news, but for now your focus would still be on Isack for a couple more minutes.

“We kinda have to go to sleep now,” you reluctantly reminded him. “Getting quite late and I don’t know about you, but I have an early flight tomorrow.”

“I actually think I do too. I’ll see you tomorrow before you leave?” Isack knew you had to go back to university until the next race.

“Yeah, of course!” You happily nodded. “We can have breakfast together,” you suggested.

“That’s perfect,” Isack confirmed. “So… good night, then?”

“Good night, Isack.” You gave him a smile and, thinking about how you would regret it if you didn’t do it, closed the space between you and the driver before you kissed his cheek. “Sleep well,” you added before entering your room.

Isack was now left alone in front of your door, unable to properly think or react to your action. His feet mindlessly walked him back to his own room, while he couldn’t help the giddy smile that appeared on his face. Once back in his room, Isack went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and that was when his eyes caught something in the mirror.

A faint trace of pink lipstick adorned his cheek, where you had kissed mere minutes before.

Isack smiled to himself, and he really hoped that tomorrow before you left, you would leave a lipstick mark on his lips.

..........

And that's it🤭 i really liked writing this one, and i hope you liked reading it!!

I was afraid of not doing isack justice so i hesitated a bit ab when i first started my draft, but the amount of vcarb tiktoks + what i had seen ab him during the 2024 f2 season helped a lot

Btw i miss isuki every single day so let's pretend that yuki is still in vcarb w isack for the rest of the season🤗 (there's no real timeline btw bc we're barely 3 races in so)

Also let's pretend ik shit ab engineering and how its degree works lol like that's absolutely not my area of study so i kinda winged it

Please tell me your thoughts in the comments, and don't be shy to like or reblog if you enjoyed this🤍🤍

See you soon, stay safe, have a happy life, love y'all xx

[jinlin-at-the-moon]

so a few days ago i was thinking about this post+comic, and i thought that while svsss luo binghe probably wouldn't try to Actually kill liu qingge, pidw luo binghe absolutely would. ergo, imagine, if you will. an au where peerless cucumber doesn't transmigrate in as shen qingqiu, but airplane still becomes shang qinghua. due to plot differences, airplane-bro doesn't really care about what the hell kind of drama the other peak lords are getting up to, but still somehow happens to knock over a book or something- something that, through bullshit plot contrivance butterfly effect, somehow manages to let shen jiu actually save liu qingge in the lingxi caves.

some years pass, years where liu qingge is going through a fantastical knightly enemies to ??? where he slowly learns he may have initially misjudged this man who may not be the paragon of virtue but is nonetheless a person worthy of respect with a possible sordid past that resulted in a difficult disposition and now has to kneel down and admit then make up to his failures, as shen jiu is like "what kind of fucking scheme is he trying to pull", which results in like a weird strained kind of coworkers who Don't Talk About It type relationship. the immortal alliance conference still happens, everything proceeds as in canon, except- when bingge comes back from his 5-year internship in tartarus and does his pidw-canon-typical "destroy shen jiu's reputation and lock him up in the water prison" shenanigans, it turns out that liu qingge Can and Will try to break shen jiu out -not because he really likes the guy all that much, necessarily, but he has a life debt to pay back and also has already dragged his one (1) braincell through the grinder in order to realise his assumed-evil coworker is probably not actually one-dimensionally evil, so he feels complicated enough about it to try and get some actual answers in here - and if that involves kicking demon ass that's just a fun bonus. normally, all this would not be an issue for demon emperor luo binghe who has recently basically come into nigh full power if you discount xin mo being grumpy, because, as established he would not hesitate to kill his former shishu! in fact, he'd be very glad to do that! however, for item out of designated boundary reasons, liu qingge Will Not Fucking Die.

...cue clown music.

liu qingge has already sacrificed his last braincell to trying to comprehend his shattered worldview of shen jiu as a person and therefore he does not examine why he is Actually so determined to break him out, and also doesn't have enough brainpower to feel torn by the fact that duelling luo binghe every week is actually kind of fun (and also why he kind of has a boner about it). shen jiu has a moral crisis about the fact that the man who he's first hated then avoided for like over a decade is now the one guy who keeps trying to legitimately come back for him and is willing to risk death over and over in order to do that, and also that somehow this pisses the beast off enough to distract him from the whole revenge/ripping off limbs thing- except now he's for some reason coming down to the water prison to rant about it? luo binghe, for his part, does not know why he's ranting about it to shen jiu of all people (it started as taunting! then it became some kind of weird routine because that one guy just cannot cease being alive and what is UP with that) and while he does have enough braincells to question why fighting liu qingge every week feels more stable than any other relationship he's had in his life since his mother died, he absolutely refuses to examine it. none of them are making it out of this normal. the clown music gets louder every time they're in one location. huan hua keeps having to dish out more and more repair funds for the bai zhan war god's going ham most destructive. the three clowns are locked in a mario/peach/bowser dynamic stalemate none of them actually want to be in, but it's what fate has dealt, and some god is probably laughing at their miseries.

(meanwhile, god is not laughing. god is wondering what the fuck happened here and how it got to this point and also if this means he might put some of his fake-his-own-death plans on hold just to see what kind of bullshit happens next. ...god also really wishes he could invent popcorn.)

[ramshacklerumble]

got him doing the eel equivalent of giggling and twirling his hair

aight i finally get to talk about the fucking earring, context under cut:

at the beginning of sophomore year, gia asks floyd to indulge them a full-on magic duel. not now, but sometime later in the year before he leaves for his internship. floyd is…confused by the request, especially since they’re both given to just get into it at any moment, why ask when he can just hand their ass back to them right now? and honestly, gia doesn’t even argue with that, i wouldn’t even be surprised if they do fisticuff right there and then.

but gia insists on challenging him to a magic duel, which floyd finds funny, especially since gia seems so sure they’ll beat him. and for those keeping score, up to this point, gia hasn’t been able to get a definitive win on their own— they’re stalemates at best. but they say, when they win, they want his earring as a prize— having heard the story of how the twins got them from jade.

floyd blows them off until gia gets a one up and gets him indebted to them (i haven’t quite figured out what this is yet), they force his hand into accepting the challenge. floyd is all okay fine whatever, get out of my face, and generally just doesn’t think much of it. he’s aware gia has some piddly little homebrew type flower power magic, but it’s nothing to write home about in the grand scale of things. he’s actually more convinced that they can give him a better run for his money in a straight physical fight than a magic duel. but whatever, if the shrimp wants to get smeared across the floor, fine.

insert the rest of sophomore year, gia goes absolutely into overdrive into honing the development of their flora magestone. this time it’s less about gia getting roped into shenanigans and more about them actively seeking it out in pursuit of knowledge, power, and even just the outright thrill of it…and it’s starting to yield results that floyd can’t ignore.

he starts to get a little prickle of excitement as he starts to believe that maybe, maybe this silly little shrimp might actually have way more fun in store for him that he thought they would.

and at some point after that, we get this little scene.

taglist:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @winterweary @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@s-t-y-x @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade @oya-oya-okay @scint1llat3 @welcometomypersonalhell098

(dm to be added)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can I request Mark in subspace with a kryptonian like reader after a long day as a hero?

Mark Grayson x Kryptonian male reader

Headcanons

Yall heard about season 3 of invincible? Anybody else as excited as me? This request is kinda old, but ive kept it until now. I write when I got inspo and time, and my school and internships taken all my energy out of me, but life goes on.

Being a hero was hard, both you and Mark knew that. You were a kryptonian, somehow having ended up in this universe because of a dimension scrambling situation, like flashpoint or similar.

For one reason or another, you stay on earth and start dating Mark, the two of you first growing close in the beginning because your powers were so similar. He truly and completely fell in love with you when you wrecked Anissa, since Kryptonians main weakness is kryptonite, and it most likely doesn’t exist in this world.

You two dating allows Mark to feel actually small and weak again, like he doesn’t have to carry the entire fate of the universe on his shoulders, since physically you are stronger than him, more sturdy, with more powers.

Being able to let go is something Mark hasn’t been able to do since he got his powers, as he’s always felt like he needed to be on edge and ready for everything.

But then you waltzed in, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out, put him on his knees, and made him cockwarm you till his head was so nice, warm and floaty.

Well, in reality it was more you guys flirting and spending a lot of time together, leading to Mark mentioning he had never sucked anyone off before, and you offering to let him try on you. He tried in the beginning, he really did, but Mark realizes how good it feels in his mouth.

You knew at least enough about subspace to safely take care of Mark as his bopping head slows down and his eyes become almost foggy, his shoulders slumping as weight he hadn’t even thought about being there went away.

Having your hand run through his hair, his nose pressed against the smattering of hair above your cock, no expectations and no hero work, made his head feel silent in what felt like too long. He could have almost cried, if you had not wiped his tears away and cooed down at him.

After that, you two started officially dating. To everyone else you guys were just dating. To powerful juggernauts who were only able to find comfort in someone who was like themselves.

And yes, that was part of it. There was no need to be careful with a guy as strong as yourself. There was also just the fact that you two got along and had a lot in common, which gave you guys more than enough to talk about.

Though, there was one thing about your relationship what was somewhat out of the norm. like the fact that Mark wore a cock cage most days, as well as a nice sturdy plug. It hadn’t even been you to offer the idea in the beginning but Mark himself, since the pressure and weight made him feel almost secure.

There was also the fact that Mark would come home from long missions, crawling into your apartment through the window, and laying down on your lap. Be that lying completely on your lap, or just laying his head on your thighs so you could play with his hair.

It was more common than you liked that you had days where you would need to undress him and bathe him since he was so tired, and just wanted to be pampered. Mark always got so nice and pliant, leaning against you and kissing at your neck as you move him about.

On days where it was a normal patrol, being cuddled and kissed like every other day was good enough. But on days when things had been rough, Mark truly would want to get out of his head.

That was when the cage and plug he wore got put to use, so it was there as comfort, but also a sign of your dominance and control over him. And if that wasn’t enough, your strength was enough to overpower him, even when he wanted to be bratty and fight back.

Some days he would get bratty, when Mark felt like he needed to be punished, or just wanted it to hurt a little more. You were probably one of the few beings in the universe that could spank him till he cried, and you were definingly the only one he wanted to do it.

Some days he needed to be bent over your lap, your super strength so easily holding him in place as you tanned his hide until it was such a nice glowing red, and his sobs were loud enough to make the glass in your windows shudder.

Other days, Mark craved a different type of heat. Luckily you could control your heat vision enough to burn just enough to leave a mark, but not enough to hurt him more than needed.

On the opposite side of that, were days when you wanted to shake it up, instead using your ice breath. It was extremely effective when used against his chest, where his nipples got so hard Mark would cry just from having them touched. Or when you needed him soft to get the cage on him, nothing quite like a cold blowjob.

But, on most days, Mark was well behaved and just wanted to be loved and held, sometimes fucked, sometimes he wanted to do the fucking, but. Being loved was what mattered the most.

There were times when all he needed to get into subspace was being held in your arms, and other days you two needed to spar. His favorite would always be your cock in his mouth, in any way you would offer it to him.

Mark knew he could always safeword, so he would go for as long as he physically could, and it honestly helped him get better at holding his breath, since Kryptonians rivaled Viltrumites in size and thickness.

Mark loved coming to you and giving up control, even if it was only for an hour or two. There were days when that was all he needed, to just know there was someone there to take charge of him, who would be proud of him and worry for him, and not his powers.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

pt2

Girl Afraid

May 12, XXXX

4:45 AM

"Shit," you think to yourself as you realize you're going to be late for school

Yes, your school usually doesn't start till 7 AM, but you have a field trip today, and the bus leaves at 5:30 AM.

"Ms.Rose is gonna kill me if I'm late again! Where did I put my bag? Where are my earbuds?" you whisper to no one in particular

You had a million thoughts running in your head, but one thing was sure, you were so late.

You still had to grab your phone, eat breakfast, put on your clothes, do your hair and makeup on the bus, and run towards the bus and then maybe you can make it in time.

You rush downstairs to get breakfast and realize you don't have to be as quiet because it's empty in the kitchen.

You quickly eat breakfast and finish your morning routine before making it out the door.

It's 5:43 when you make it onto the bus, Ms. Rose was waiting on you and thankfully didn't you much of a hard time.

"Ms.y/n, please be more considerate of others time next time."You sat down next to your "friends"

You don't fully consider them your friends, they're too full of themselves and you all know none of you guys are friends, just close acquaintances.

After finishing the coffee you brought onto the bus ride, doing your hair and makeup, and taking a quick nap while listening to music, you finally made it.

Alchemax.

You were excited for the trip, even asking Dick, Jason, and Bruce if they wanted to tag along as chaperones.

They said no, which you both understood and were also sad about but, whatever, who cares? Anyways- you're at the coolest place!

It's perfect for someone who wants an internship that would look great on your resume.

Why do you want that resume? You don't know. Maybe it's so you can impress your family? You aren't fully sure.

Before you question yourself further, you get off the bus, along with your schoolmates.

You hear them all chatting about whatever, but it's clear to everyone that you are the most excited to go on this trip.

You, who wouldn't shut up about it despite everyone at school and home telling you to. You, who kept bouncing off walls while talking about it. You, who constantly wrote about it in journals.

Nothing could stop your excitement, and that was clear to others.

While you were there, you were practically the only one participating.

The only one wasnt scared to ask questions.

The one that would ask questions for others who wouldn't.

You were sure that this was the best trip of your life! You were so interested in everything!

It wasn't until later in the day after you got home at 7:56 that you saw everyone in the dining room sitting together eating, like usual, without you.

Every time you saw them together your heart broke a little more.

You tried to not make a scene and just walk away quietly, and it worked!

With everyone but Alfred.

"And where have you been, young miss?" He asked in an authoritary tone.

"I've been on a field trip in Alchemax! I just got back! It was soo fun, why?" you asked, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Wouldn't you like to have dinner with the others?" it's clear he just wanted the others to notice you, he knew you've tried so hard to be with them.

"it's alright, Alfred. I grabbed lunch with my friends earlier, I'm still full!" you said enthusiastically. It wasnt a lie, afterwards you all went to your favorite fast food place, batburger. You're sure theres no better fast food place than batburger.

"Oh, that's quite alright then." as soon as he said that you went upstairs to get unready and unpack for the day. you didnt notice Jasons slight dissapointment on his face when you refused and walked away.

It's good that it was a Friday, you could rest tomorrow.

You didn't notice how you accidentally took Project 111 with you. Mustve sneaken in your bag while you went to the bathroom while at Alchemax.

It took you a while to open your bag due to you getting ready for bed, and you screamed when you saw a spider in your bag and crawling onto your hand.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK STOP CRAWLING ON ME LEAVE ME ALONE WHERE DID YOU COME FROM GO AWAY!" the stupid spider kept crawling on you.

It's honestly suprising no one heard you scream. Either that or they didnt care.

You didnt know what to do. You hate spiders.

It took you minute or two of just flailing before actually doing something.

You tried to reach for your nearest hairbrush to hit the spider with, only to accidentally hit yourself anywhere but where the spider was. Thats gonna leave a mark.

The spider, project 111, ended up biting you on the wrist. You ended up killing it with your hairspray.

You started panicking on whether you would die or not, you may have cried a little before realizing you were being a tad bit dramatic.

You realized the spider didn't look like the venomous ones you researched online while trying to find common ground with Damian back when he was new

So you decide to keep this to yourself, a nice little secret.

3:37 AM

You woke up sweating, panicking, hot, cold, tired, wide awake, hungry, full, thirsty, not thirsty.

You didn't know what was happening.

You forced yourself to fall back asleep.

it's around 12 PM when you wake up again.

You hope it was just a weird nightmare.

You realize you woke up late to breakfast, which was usually at 9:30 for you, so on your desk was some cold breakfast Alfred left for you.

While eating it, you thought about what happened.

Was it a dream? Was it a sign? Were you high?

You start walking in circles trying to figure out what it could all mean...it took you a while to realize you were literally upside down on your ceiling.

Oops?

Before you processed it, you panicked.Why are you on the ceiling? Why were you walking on walls? How were you walking on walls?

So many questions. No one to answer them.

After a bit of panicking and running around making a mess, you realize you sort of have powers.

You could stick to walls, that was one.

You could make webs, thats two. You could be a hero, like the others!

At first, you find it so cool!

..then you realized your father doesn't want metas in Gotham...

You decide to keep this to yourself, for now at least.

oml this is so short oops guys i swear im. tryigg my hardest but also im kind of a bad writiter 🙏

anyways the next one of these i make is most likely gonna be emu reader cause shes so silly

anyways

[drfruitcake]

That Old Man

Michael Robinavitch x F!Resident!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (language and smut) Word count: ~3,500 Tags: reader insert, no use of y/n, female reader, smut, explicit sexual content, newly established relationship, slight age gap (29F and 54 M), car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, no beta

Summary: You began dating Dr. Robby a few weeks ago and now it's time to introduce him to your friends, who know nothing about him beyond your age gap. They quickly learn he's definitely not "some old man."

Notes: Literally just a random dose of smut. Reader is a 29-year-old ob/gyn resident.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Pittsburgh is a perfect 72 degrees today. It’s a welcome relief from the spring chill, which had been getting old. Now, the early June skies were clear and bright, begging you to put on your favorite sundress.

“I’m so over this song,” your friend Jen groaned as Sports Car began blasting from the speakers. You nodded in agreement, reaching for a sip of your beer.

“Do you even know this song?” your other friend Aya teased you.

“It’s Tate McRae,” you said indignantly. 

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Aya mused as the rest of your friend group laughed. “I thought maybe you only listen to old man music now.”

“Stop,” you groaned in annoyance. 

“We’re only joking,” Aya said, smiling at you with sincere eyes. 

“I’m beginning to regret this,” you muttered.

“Oh, stop,” Jen pleaded. “You know we’re all happy for you, and we can’t wait to meet him.”

“You can’t wait to ask him about his AARP benefits,” you quipped, drawing a laugh.

“It’s not our fault you’re fucking an old man,” Aya teased.

“He’s 54!” you exclaimed incredulously, though you’d already made this point to your friends several times in the last few weeks. “You guys act like he’s on his death bed in a nursing home or something.”

“He’s technically old enough to be your dad,” your friend Sara noted. “Like, he and your dad are only a few years apart. Isn’t that weird?”

“No,” you said firmly. “Because I’m not dating my dad. I’m dating a perfectly normal and healthy man, and I would appreciate it if you guys would act that way when he gets here.”

“Okay, okay,” Aya laughed. “We promise no old man jokes to his face.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to your beer, your eyes scanning the festival grounds as the conversation shifted to Aya’s new car.

You and your friends were seated at a long picnic table, enjoying a Saturday evening at one of Pittsburgh’s annual summer festivals. You were on your third round of drinks, the next live music act was prepping the stage, and your boyfriend, Michael, was supposed to join you after his ER shift. He was meeting your friends for the first time and you were excited, but unsure of what to expect.

You first met Michael a few years ago, the first time you ventured into the emergency department of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center during your internship. Now in the fourth year of your ob/gyn residency, you’d gotten to know Michael throughout the years, though you had never expected to end up in a relationship with him.

He was more than two decades older than you, but you were drawn to each other. You liked that he was straightforward and secure. He liked that you brought a lightness to him. Michael needed someone to ground him when life felt unfair; you needed to feel needed.

But when you told your friends you were dating the 54-year-old senior attending of the ER, they all stared at you with shocked, judgmental eyes. That all started nearly three months ago, when a particularly rough day at work led you to the bar down the block from the hospital. Michael, who had also had a shitty day, showed up unexpectedly as well, and the two of you swapped your horror stories. By the end of the night, your crush on Michael had snowballed into feelings you could no longer mask and you ended up straddling him on his own couch.

Since then, you and Michael slipped into a cozy relationship. Your mutual friends and colleagues weren’t surprised – a small group of ER staff even had a betting pool going – and they all seemed genuinely supportive. But your girlfriends had questions. And while they were supportive, they also begged you to meet Michael. You hadn’t even shown them a photo of him, your Instagram feed going quiet once you started dating him. 

The departure from the norms of modern dating was freeing. No pressured social media posts with your relationship on display, no texting games, and the only reason you ever needed to track Michael’s phone location was because he had a bad habit of leaving it in random places. Michael was a man in all the ways you needed him to be – he spoke like one, he fucked like one and he carried himself like one – but you never found yourself questioning his values or his respect for you.

Finally, you agreed to let your friends meet Michael today. You hoped they’d back off on the old man remarks, though truthfully, you didn’t care. You simply wanted them to see Michael the way you did – an attractive man who you respected, admired and adored.

The buzz of your phone on the table pulled your attention. 

On my way, see you in 10, a message from Michael said. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, excited to see him.

“Ooh, she’s smiling!” Aya cooed at you. “It must be a text from that old man!”

You shot your friends another eye roll. “He’s on his way,” you informed them. “So please, I beg of you, be nice.”

“Oh, come on,” Jen said. “You know we’re just kidding, right? Of course we’ll be nice.”

“Yes, we’ll be on our best behavior. Gotta respect the elderly,” Aya joked. 

“Does he have a curfew?” Sara chimed in. “You know, at the nursing home?”

“What time do you need to remind him to take his Viagra?” your friend Maddie added. The group burst into laughter and you merely smiled and shook your head.

“You guys are assholes,” you laughed. “He’s 54, not some dementia-ridden senior citizen. And he does not take Viagra. He doesn't need it.”

“Okay okay, point made,” Maddie said. “Obviously the sex must be good. Why else would you be with someone on the brink of a retirement home?”

“Hey now, I actually like him!” you insisted. “The sex is only part of it.”

“But is it good?”

You failed to suppress a smirk, despite your annoyance with your friends. “Best I ever had,” you said simply.

“And you’re like, genuinely attracted to him?” Sara asked honestly.

“Yes!” you sighed, your annoyance flaring. “Why is it so hard to believe I’m attracted to a 54-year-old? Maddie’s in love with Pedro Pascal and he’s like, 50.”

“But Pedro Pascal is an actor. It’s like his job to be attractive,” Aya said. “He’s not just some guy.”

“It just seems like quite a change from your usual type,” Sara cut in, in an attempt to smooth the conversation.

“That’s exactly the point,” you said. “I’m tired of wasting time with these cokeheads and non-committal assholes. Michael’s too mature and smart for any of that bullshit. He's good to me... and good in bed.”

“But why isn’t he married? If he’s so great, why hasn’t someone locked him down by now?” Aya asked.

“He’s… had some emotional baggage,” you admitted carefully. “Dating as a doctor is hard, especially when you have a schedule like his, working in the ER. It’s hard for people to understand until they’ve lived it. And it’s hard to do that job without suffering some mental health consequences.”

“But he’s not like, unstable, is he?” Jen asked.

“No.” You spoke with confidence and assurance. “He’s working on it. He had a breakdown about a year ago after the PittFest incident but he’s been in therapy. He just needed better support. He’s a good person, guys. He just needed help. Most of us working in medicine do. It's rough out there.”

The table fell quiet as your friends mulled over your words, the weight of your boyfriend’s work sinking in. Aya and Maddie had been at PittFest and seen the horrors that day, but they’d never considered how much of it had made its way into the halls of the hospital.

You drummed your fingers anxiously over the tabletop. Despite all the teasing and banter, you really did want your friends to approve of your boyfriend. And you wanted Michael to get along with them, though he wasn’t the one you were worried about.

You knew your friends had their concerns. After all, you’d spent six years of your life in a previous relationship that ended in a broken engagement and months of therapy. Your friends were excited to see you happy again, but they were also looking out for you.

But Michael was different, as cliche as it sounded. He took the guesswork out of a relationship, but he wasn’t boring. He made you feel safe and secure, but he also allowed you to exist as your 29-year-old self. He didn’t hold his age over you or infantilize you. He wasn’t trying to change you, tame you or turn you into someone he wanted you to be. 

When you finally spotted Michael, his eyes scanning the rows of tables for you, you smirked to yourself. He was wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses and a green button-down shirt – one that was just a little too snug in the sleeves. He looked good.

You waved him over and felt your heart leap as his eyes settled on you, warming as they filled with recognition. 

“Hey you,” he said as you rose to your feet so he could lean in to kiss you, his hand pressing gently into the small of your back.

“Everyone, this is Michael,” you said, your eyes sweeping over your friends to assess their reactions. You bit back a snort. Aya was staring at Michael with wide eyes while Sara and Maddie swapped a surprised glance. Jen was grinning stupidly. “Michael, this is Aya, Sara, Jen and Maddie.”

“It’s good to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you,” Michael said as your friends took turns shaking his hand. He took the seat next to you and smiled at you as he eyed your sundress. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. How was your shift?”

“It was alright. Busy, but nothing too eventful. Night shift’s probably going to get slammed. Summer nights like this bring out the worst in everyone.”

Your friends eyed you curiously, as if they were analyzing your interaction. While you wanted nothing more than to spend some time getting lost in Michael, you returned your attention to them. 

Michael, of course, aced their tests. They peppered him with questions and bantered with him until it was clear he wasn’t some old creep looking to take advantage of a younger woman. He charmed them with his insightful wisdom, biting sarcasm and personable interactions. 

When he got up to buy the next round of drinks for everyone, your friends leaned in closer.

“Okay, I take back all of my mean jokes,” Aya said. “That old man is hot.”

“Can you please stop referring to him as that old man?” you chided. “Now that you’ve met him, the least you can do is call him by his actual name.”

“You didn’t tell us he was that hot,” Sara cut in.

“Yes I did!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “I literally told you guys when we first started dating.”

“But he’s like, actually hot,” Jen said. 

“It’s not my fault you guys didn’t believe me.”

“Okay, that’s fair. But does he have a brother?”

“No.”

“Well, are there any other hot old doctors you work with?”

Your lips thinned in an attempt to conceal a smirk. You knew your friends would lose their minds over Jack Abbot, but he was currently dating your friend Samira Mohan.

“Oh, so now you all want to date an old man,” you teased.

“If they’re like yours, yes,” Maddie said.

“Maddie, you have a man,” you noted.

“That’s not the point.”

“Really, though, he’s great,” Sara interjected seriously. “We’re sorry for doubting you.”

“Do you guys actually think he’s great, or just fuckable?”

“He’s great,” Aya agreed. “He’s funny and chill.”

“But he has a warmth to him,” Sara added. "Kind of a dad energy, but not cringe."

“Definitely fuckable,” Maddie said.

“Definitely DILF vibes. Does he have kids?”

“No.”

“Even better.”

When Michael reappeared with an armload of beer and seltzer cans, he set them down on the table and remained standing.

“I’m going to grab some food,” he said. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

Your friends all shook their heads and you rose to your feet. “I’ll come with you,” you said, offering your friends a smug smile as Michael led you away from them.

“Well,” you said once you were out of earshot. “What do you think?”

“I think you wore that dress to drive me insane.”

“About my friends,” you laughed, clinging to Michael’s arm. “What do you think?”

“They seem nice,” he said simply. “The blonde one – the one who’s in marketing – she’s a lot like you.”

“She is,” you agreed. “We were roommates my first year at Penn and we’ve been close ever since.”

“Well, hopefully they don’t think I’m too old to hang out with,” Michael continued. You swiveled your head to look at him pointedly.

“You are not old,” you chided. “And my friends all agree, the important thing is that we’re happy.”

“Oh, so you’re happy?” Michael teased as he hooked an arm around your waist.

“Are you?”

“How could I not be when you’re wearing a dress like that?” he murmured in your ear. You paused in your tracks to slip your arms around his waist, tilting your head back to smile up at him.

“Perhaps I’ll show you just how happy I am,” you purred. Michael lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly intrigued and clearly no longer hungry – for food, at least. You tugged at his arm to lead him away from the crowds of festivalgoers and food lines until you reached the parking lot.

“Oh no,” Michael laughed with a shake of his head, realization striking him as you approached your SUV and hit the remote start. “No way. I’m too old for that.”

“I thought we just established that you’re not old.”

“That was before you wanted me to climb into your backseat like some kind of horny teenager.”

“You’re never too old for this. You’re only as old as you feel,” you challenged, locking eyes with Michael as you backed yourself up against the car, tugging the front of his shirt until he was pinning you against the hot metal. “How do you feel?”

Michael swallowed, his eyes clearly conceding defeat. “I definitely don’t feel old now.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You fumbled with your key fob to unlock the car and climbed into the backseat, Michael following after you. The air was hot, punctuated by the air conditioning blasting from the vents, and the seats were scalding from hours in the sun. You might have noticed the way they seared the backs of your thighs had the burning between them not been hotter.

“This is ridiculous,” Michael laughed as you crawled on top of him to straddle his lap, your thighs flanking him as his hands found the small of your back. “But you look too good to resist.” He snaked one finger through the strap of your dress until it fell from your shoulder, exposing the swell of your left breast. The other quickly followed. “I thought about you all day,” Michael murmured as his eyes hungrily roamed your chest.

“Right back at you,” you purred, shifting in his lap until you could feel his erection pressing beneath your ass. Michael groaned at the friction. His fingertips grazed up your thighs beneath the hem of your dress, stroking slow patterns back-and-forth over your hot flesh as you leaned in to kiss him with slow lips.

Michael hummed into the kiss as you rocked your hips, your own moaning threatening to escape. You shifted backward until your back pressed against the back of the driver’s seat to make room for yourself to unbuckle Michael’s belt. Once you had his jeans unzipped, you fished his cock from them and gave it a stroke. Michael hissed, his head tilting back against the headrest as he welcomed the feeling of your hand around him.

Michael’s own hand returned beneath your dress, two fingers dragging against your wet panties. It forced a sharp exhale from your nostrils as your arousal surged. Michael’s fingers nudged their way into the soaked fabric and pulled against your folds. They dabbed inside you until you were clenching yourself around them, desperate for more.

“You really were thinking about me all day, weren’t you?” Michael growled when he pulled his hand away, leaving you whining at its absence. He sucked his fingers and smirked at you.

Your patience fizzled and you shifted again, your dress hiked up around your waist as you pulled your panties to the side to allow him access. You lowered yourself with a low whimper as you impaled yourself on Michael’s cock, sinking slowly as your walls stretched for him. You held his gaze as you did so, your eyes locked in a mutual blaze that crackled the air around you.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael groaned through gritted teeth. He squeezed your hips hard in an attempt to maintain restraint while you slowly – too slowly – lowered yourself, despite his desperate urge to drive himself fully inside you immediately with a swift thrust of his hips. His jaw tightened as you took your time until you suddenly dropped the remainder of the way in a swift motion. The tension in his jaw released as he let out a grunt, the pressure shifting to his fingers as they pressed into the flesh of your waist over the tight heat compressing his cock.

Perhaps it was the angle, or the cramped back seat, but Michael couldn’t help but swear that you felt particularly tight that day. It was dizzying as you moved above him, your hips lifting and falling until you found a rhythm that had you both breathing heavily.

Michael’s hands returned beneath your dress to grab your ass, clenching your plump skin with every motion. You rocked harder, desperate to achieve your release as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Michael hissed. You slammed your hips downward in response.

“Still feeling too old?” you teased, your eyes shining with mischief. 

“Don’t provoke me,” Michael warned. You flashed your canines at him and before you could rock your hips for emphasis, he had you pinned flat on your back. You yelped in surprise at the swift change in position, but Michael was already burying his cock inside you again.

“Not so old now, huh?” he teased, pressing a thumb against your clit to prove his point. You gasped as it set your nerve endings ablaze. Michael offered a facetious chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

He shifted to rest back on his heels, his hands pulling your hips toward him for a better view of his cock disappearing inside your cunt. 

He snapped his hips forward, his cock prodding your core. He waited until your moans filled the car, only rivaled by the whoosh of the air conditioning from the vents, before he drove upward. He set a steady pace as his cock dragged through your walls repeatedly until they threatened to quiver.

“Michael, please,” you breathed.

Had it been any typical day or setting, Michael might have continued to tease you. At the very least, he’d prolong this. But the close confines of the car, the stifling heat, and the vision of you splayed out before him was making it impossible for Michael to want anything other than the feeling of you falling apart beneath him.

Your knees were damn near at your ears as he drove into you, knocking the air from your lungs and the final threads of tension from your walls. You unleashed a shrill wail and your back arched as you spasmed hard around Michael’s cock, your chest heaving as he fucked you through it. 

He swore at the sensation as the heat in his stomach ignited, triggering his own climax. 

“Fucking shit,” he stuttered, his hands holding your hips flush with his as he emptied himself inside you. It left him panting, one arm flung over the back of the seat as he caught his breath, peering down at you as you returned his gaze with a satisfied smirk. He smirked back, knowing damn well you’d be feeling the remnants of his release running down your thighs the remainder of the evening.

“We should get back to my friends,” you said as you straightened upward to adjust the straps of your dress. Michael nodded in agreement and climbed out of the car before offering a hand to help you.

“So, think your friends approve of me?” he asked as you walked back toward the festival.

“They asked if you have any friends or a brother to hook them up with,” you laughed.

“Oh? I thought they said I was too old for you.”

“That was before they met you. I think they see my vision now.”

“Your vision?”

“Mmhmm,” you answered as you neared your table of friends, who were eyeing you suspiciously. “You know, a hot old man who’s still able to climb into a back seat.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

can you tell me the timeline of twisted wonderland I know the game timeline started in September or august now the timeline is january or febary

The timeline for the main story is as follows:

Prologue - Based on book 1’s timing, probably very late August or very early September.

Book 1 - Crewel states that start of the school year is in September; other students like Cater drop hints that the new students are still getting acclimated to the routine of school. The light novel is even more specific; the OB fight is stated to happen within the first week of school.

Book 2 - Crowley states that the interdorm spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in October.

Book 3 - Final exams of the fall semester are mentioned, so this is before winter break. Most likely occurs in November.

Book 4 - Begins on the last day of the fall semester and continues through winter break (late December) and into the new year (January). This is pretty explicitly stated in various characters’ dialogue (Jamil, Crowley, Ramshackle Ghosts, Lilia, Octavinelle, etc.) or by in-game omnipotent narration.

Book 5 - Begins in the new year (January) and factoring in ~1 months’ worth of training, we end book 5 in mid-February, when VDC/SDC takes place. Mid-February is explicitly mentioned by Crewel.

Book 6 - Takes place literally a few days after book 5, so presumably still in February. Idia states that 5 Overblots (not counting himself) occurred in less than 6 months.

Book 7 - Estimated to be in March due to a variety of factors. It must be spring because Yuu is surprised to see (Malleus’s magically produced) snow when wandering outside of Ramshackle + says “I thought it’s supposed to be spring.” The interscholastic spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in May, but presumably has not occurred yet + Silver states his birthday (May 15) is still “a little ways away”. Assuming NRC has a spring break in April or mid/late March, it must not have happened yet because 1) no students mention a break and 2) the third years would need to apply for their internships early in the semester to allow time for their paperwork to be processed and to do additional tests and interviews. Lilia does say at his farewell party that a full 6 months have passed since the start of the school year; he would have said 7 if it was April. UPDATE: book 7 ends on Silver's birthday, May 15.

I have added this information (or at least a link to it) in my pinned post, which already contains a FAQ section. I highly recommend to my readers to look at the FAQ first before sending in their question(s), as there is a good chance that your question may have already been answered there. Any questions that are repeats of the ones shown in the FAQ will go ignored/unanswered moving forward.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

IYCRTTBFO - Joel Miller x reader

cw: dbf! Joel is also a cam model, light(ish) daddy kink, creampies, at least two references to Wheeler Walker Jr. songs, big fat age gap

You couldn't sleep. It started at college, when you were working part-time while doing your masters thesis. Your night shift ended at 2.30 in the morning. Then, by the time you went to bed, you were struggling to shake off the buzzing energy. Your body was tired, and your mind was elsewhere. So you turned to the only true, tried and tested method of getting yourself to sleep. Masturbation. Low effort, porn video you've already watched, finger rubbing your clit, masturbation. It worked for about a week. Then your "sessions" got longer. And longer. You had to spend an hour now, chasing your orgasm. Begging yourself to cum. Getting more frustrated and then practically passing out like a log. You got good sleep out of it. But also it was getting painful. Your clit would hurt, a short stabbing pain taking your mind off of your thesis critique. Not that you were too keen on hearing about the feedback on your research model. So you were going to quit, cold turkey style. On the one hand, your insomnia persisted. Now you had replaced porn with your self assigned reading. But that did not help you sleep, just made you more cranky. Your cycadian rhythm was fucked beyond belief. So you moved through life half- asleep, always spending your days off napping. Morning meetings were rough and when you slept through an internship interview at 1, you knew enough was enough.

Back to flicking the bean to not be mean. You just figured you needed a change of scenery, so to speak. You considered OnlyFans, ready to be shelling out your hard earned cash for tasteful nudes (perhaps those of Markiplier or something like that). But that wouldn't be personal enough. You tried audio stuff, but the JOIs weren't really catered to you. Yes, they had your kinks. Or the pet names you liked. But never together, never quite enough. And call it conditioning, but you wanted something familiar. A certain Austin draw, a slice of the Texas you were far away from. But alas, your cowboy was not on Quinn or soundgasm. So you went old-school.

Girls like you weren't even supposed to know about camming sites. It was such a retro thing, more of your father's and Joel's generation. But it was thanks to the former's inability to delete a browser history that you were here. The landing page of the website was fine. You had to make the choice of looking at women, men, couples, or the trans category. Craving to see a solo cumshot, you click on "male". You should've expected that even here, it would be geared towards other guys, like most porn was. The tags of the rooms said it all. Anal. Fuckmachine. Party. But as you refreshed the home page again, someone caught your eye. It was a guy in a cowboy hat over his face. His tip goal was simple, promising a glimpse of him shirtless. It was the amount of tokens needed that amazed you, it was so high. Seriously, from your little time on the website, you could see this was a bit too self assured. But he was getting there. You clicked the video, morbid curiosity taking over. This and his username of thicktexanbeercan. A man after your own heart.

People flood in, apparently the red color of their usernames means they're part of a fan club? You wanna learn more, so you click through the whole thing. The "cam boy" or "cam man" or whatever you were supposed to call him was just welcoming people. There were other newbies like you because you were half-listening to him explaining about his mic.

"You can hear me so clearly cause I have it clipped to my neck on a fucking chocker. Which you guys should've let die in the 90s btw." You're looking at his tags of #monster cock, #daddy, #master and #orgasmguide. And when someone voices your thought of "some of us weren't even born in the 90s." you found out why. He reads it out and snorts.

"Look at you, so young and already a pathetic little pervert watching older men. What, daddy didn't love you enough, babydoll? So now you gotta come here at night and tune into me stroking my cock for you. Wishing you were on your knees, trying to take it in your bratty little mouth?". The donations explode. The sound effects of coins reverberate through your headphones. The goal is met and the stream has been on for only 15 minutes. You can't see him smile, but you can feel it, by the way his shoulders relax.

"You're such a good girl tonight, spoiling your old man. So needy, already wanting me to take off my clothes. I will, little slut, just let daddy take care of something first." He rolls his chair to the desk and takes his keyboard. You chuckle at the faded and yellowed stickers on it, they vaguely reminded you of something. The man can touch type and you've never wanted to be a pair of keys more in your life. The goal's adjusted, promising whipped cream on his chest. As he fiddles with the camera angles and wonders aloud how to best give you a show, you hover to his bio tab. The man intrigues you. Under real name, he put “Can't tell you, but my screen name is a pun”, so you guess it's Bud or even Sam Addams. His age is listed as late 40s, and when you see a glimpse of his salt and pepper chest hair, it makes sense.

This guy intrigues you. Instead of rubbing one out, you're scrolling further. There's pictures and videos. While there's one of him wearing assless chaps for free (which quickly gets saved to your phone gallery), the rest is behind a paywall. Videos of him cumming or even simple things like doing push-ups. Your palms are itching and you know your payday is coming soon. But before you end up buying a filthy mp4, you go back to the stream.

Somehow, he had made taking off a flannel sexy. Rubbing his fingers against his chest. Touching his happy trail. Then someone in the chat asked, "How much to see the good stuff?" He reads it out, chuckles, and presses a few keys, making a tip menu appear in the chat. It has the usual stuff, promises of flashing his cock or flexing his biceps. C2C and PMs (which you had learned stood for cam to cam and private messages). Then, was the more personal stuff. Nudes rating (5 photos), praise, degradation, ddlg. He clearly knew what people wanted. Was it what he craved as well, you wondered? Then came "the goods" the other person was probably talking about. Jerking off, cumming, even using a vibrator or a fleshlight on himself.

You wondered how long it would take to see the self-described "thicktexanbeercan.". But thanks to someone just as horny as you, if not more, it would be almost immediately. When the tip for "jerking off" came through, he said the person's username and then asked, "How do I thank you, using my southern charm or Austin dirtbag style?"

When the person replied with "dirtbag style," also my pronouns are she/they."he presumably glanced at the message. Probably keeping eye contact with the camera, he reaches for his belt.

"Thank you for being horny, I guess. Desperate little thing, that doesn't like to wait. Impatient darling, needing to see daddy pump his cock for you. Gonna show you exactly what you wanna see, baby.". The belt is on the ground and his jeans are around his ankles. Never did you think that a guy simply taking off his pants would be so hot. Your gaze trails from his delicious thighs to his boxers. Holy shit, even by his outline you can tell that his username isn't an exaggeration.

He pulls it out and it's the prettiest and biggest cock you've ever seen. His hand wraps around it, one slow pump he thrust into, back arching. Then he folds one arm behind his head and turns straight into the camera. You like the mystery, but wish he would show his face. His voice is breathy, he obviously likes what he's doing. And his thrusts are speeding up.

His chat is going crazy, tokens pouring in.

"You like what you see, huh? Bet you're aching to touch yourself, too. Go on, spread your pretty legs for me, and give me a show, too.". Before you know it, you're following his instructions. Pajama pants quickly pulled down, you touch yourself. And God damn, are you wet. You're fucking dripping, for this stranger on the internet. You don't have time to be embarrassed. You trail a finger against your opening, gathering the slick. Then you touch your clit, rubbing it slow and then gradually speeding up. But it's so much more intense, it's fucking electric. You glance at the clock on your phone. Look back at the man on the stream, his chest, his cock. And in a minute you're cumming. Eyes closed, pussy getting tighter and clenching around nothing orgasm. You close the stream, mortified. You go to bed and have the best sleep of your life.

By the next stream, you have an account, and you follow him. He acknowledges that, and you're tempted to already start touching yourself. But it's a Friday night, you've promised yourself that weekends are for yourself. Seeing that you pushed for Saturdays off, one would think you'd need to be up, bright and early, and going somewhere. But not this time. You had planned a slow day, where you catch up on laundry and read. But before the weekend was this. You caught on to today's stream a bit too late. Your cowboy (a middle-aged man that probably didn't know you existed) was already shirtless. He had a loofah and a mug filled with water next to him.

"One of y'all suggested I try temporary tattoos. Now, I had to go to the grocery store and get weird looks as I pumped quarters in a machine. So you better enjoy them. Or actually, if I find good ones online, I'm adding them to the wishlist.". He moves off camera and holds up two sheets of temporary tattoos, very tribal and barbed wire inspired. The other is surprisingly butterflies and unicorns.

He unbuttons his pants and lowers his boxers. You can see just the tip, straight as a ram rod. You can't help but wonder if he gets off on being watched. Your head gets filled with fantasies of him and you. Embarrassingly you're picturing him pulling out his pecker in a mundane place like Walmart and fucking you in the aisles. Maybe you just need to do better groceries, you think looking at the takeout bag from the restaurant you just spent 8 hours in. There were enough chicken nuggets in there to feed a family. You get your mind back in the gutter when the performer moans. You stare at the screen. His torso is covered in the temporary tattoo, and he's strategically placed the barbed wire around his nipples. As he drags the wet loofah against his pelvis, he groans.

"God, this is cold. Wish you were here, to warm up my cock. With your mouth or cunt or ass. Filling you so well."

This time, you come before he's even pulled out his dick. Yet you keep watching. A second orgasm gets squeezed out of you later, with the help of your dildo. When "beercan" reaches a crazy tip goal, he fucks his fleshlight. He's merciless, using the pocket pussy like a cocksleeve, whispering the most obscene stuff.

"You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you like this. Of course you do. You're so tight for me, yet you take my big cock so well. Trained you well, didn't I? Made my own little whore, that needs my cum. Beg for it.". And you do, miles away from this stranger. You orgasm with him, sex toy deep inside of you. He cums and makes the stream watch as he cleans the fleshlight with the same loofah he used earlier.

That stream basically breaks you. For some reason two intense orgasm equal a very productive day then. You're a new person. You study and work better and no longer need to fuck yourself to sleep. That you stranger whose name is Bud or Sam Addams or Miller. Not that you drink the latter anyway, so it never crosses your mind. After all, Joel is older, in his mid 50s. But what he's not above is lying on the internet. Using the world wide web to show his nasty bits to the world. And what he'd soon realize is that his best friend's daughter isn't too.

After finishing your masters thesis, you come to the harrowing reality that there's no jobs for you here. And then comes your dad's constant pestering to come home. You reject him at first. There's nothing left for you in Texas anymore, besides the family house. But then, a former high school mentor posts a job opening on their Instagram story. And it's perfect for you, aside from the fact it's in Austin. You off handedly mention it to your parents, after immediately applying. You don't expect to get it. But with interviews and all, you do. They even allow you to start a bit later, making sure you work off your part-time job shifts.

So you take the plunge and buy plane tickets. There's only one problem. The flight is so early that you'd practically have to leave your empty apartment at 4 in the morning. So you decide to pull an allnighter. You're not sure how you end up back on the chat room site. You don't even know if "thicktexanbeercan" still cams. But as you click on the page, you get a notification that he's in a live show. Feeling bold tonight, you know you wanna be a bit more adventurous. Call it what you will, but you need a shake-up. After so much uncertainty, you need to do something so out of character.

You feel the money in your pocket burns a hole in it. Yes, packing your stuff and sending it back wasn't cheap. Nor was the last-minute plane ticket (even with Spirit airlines). But you had sold a lot of your things, gotten your rental deposit back, and got your days off comped as overtime. So you were, technically, on the flipside. Now, responsible people would put that into savings. You were spending it on tokens. You wanted to be seen. So you tipped for "nudes review." Truth is, ever since your last partner in freshman year of college, it was a string of bad hookups and boring first dates. No one had seen you naked in a while. But that didn't mean you didn't have nudes. Nope, you liked taking shots of yourself in compromising positions. After all, your pretty lingerie deserved to be shown off.

So you mindlessly sent over 4 shots via the opened pm option. He moves a large IPad in front of his face to obscure it. His ever-present cowboy hat is moved to his head as he stares at your pictures. He strokes his cock, at his usual fast pace.

"Jesus fuck, darling, aren't you a treasure. Look at that ass, so perky. It would look good in red, after I'm done with you. Let's see the next one, oh, you're doing the hand bra thing. Need someone to fondle your tits, huh. Don't worry, I'd grope them for you. Put my mouth on them, tease your sensitive nipples. Fuck, let's see the third. Damn, you're stark fucking naked. What a little whore you are, showing me everything. Don't know if I wanna think about your boobs again or your hips or your pussy. Might just stick around and look at it. Only one more, okay. Fuck, that's my favorite one, doll. Even though you should've been more careful. You forgot to crop out your face. I can see your needy expression as you're rubbing your clit. Hand in your lacy black panties, must have been a special night. Who in their right mind would have let you go instead of fucking you right against the mirror you're using as a prop. Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll give you a tribute, right here. How's that sound, darling? You want this old man to cover your photo with his cum in front of thousands of people?".

Any fear or shame you've had is long gone. You don't only want that, you need it. You type a "please, daddy" in the chat. His groan fills your headphones. He fumbles, balancing his hat on his nose. For the first time, you see a glimpse of his face. His tongue wets his lips as he zooms on the iPad, making sure that others only see from your chest down. He jerks his cock over it, painting his screen with spurts of his cum.

"That was intense, think I'll put you on hold for a bit. It's been a while since a first orgasm drained me like that. Daddy will be back soon." He says and pauses the broadcast. Truth is, his cock would be hard again in a minute. It was the fact that he came to you that was haunting him. His best friend's daughter. A girl who was younger than his niece. A woman who was coming back to Texas after leaving as a 19 year old. Then you were still awkward and Joel would never look at you twice. You were a child, for God's sake. But now, some years later you had shed your baby face. You were a fucking bombshell. And he was about to implode.

After a whirlwind rest of the stream, you go to the airport and catch your flight. Despite being a full-grown adult, your parents insist on picking you up. You're back in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of your new life. You notice that some stuff from before is missing.

"Hey dad, where's the old blueetoth keyboard we bought when the laptop was on the fritz? Might need it for work." You ask. You're sure you can easily write down notes on your phone or on paper. But there was something satisfying about hooking up your old iPad to a keyboard and typing. Maybe it's the fact that it got you through college twice that has you feeling sentimental. Maybe it's the truth that your parents didn't know you bought it, and now you had to use it daily to justify spending money on it. Either way, your dad replied with

"Oh, I gave that to Joel. He said he was starting some new call center job and needed it. Working on European projects, so he's always busy at night. Must pay a pretty penny, he's always got packages on his doorstep. You should see his new pickup truck too, she's a beauty." Your father said.

"Didn't need the whole prologue, dad. Can you just get it back?" You ask.

"Now come on honey, you're a grown woman. You can go over and ask him yourself. He's not gonna eat you." Your dad insists, and you have to agree. With a resigned "At least text him and tell him I'm on the way.", you go. There's no use arguing. You can not explain to your dad that when you were 19, you wanted nothing more than Joel taking your virginity. That now, years after, you still wouldn't mind a sip of that can of Miller.

One of the reasons your dad and Joel were friends was the fact that you could get to the latter's house in about 15 minutes. You're there in less, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Joel emerges in a moss green bathrobe and grey sweatpants. His hair is tousled, and it's obvious that he was sleeping. You'd feel bad if he didn't greet you with a

"What the fuck do you want, I ain't buying anything. Oh. It's you. Hey, kiddo.". Your eyes go to the mat on his front porch, but not before taking in his cock. Was he hard? Had you interrupted an intimate moment? You mumble something about "wireless keyboard" and "borrowing it back, please" when he leads you in. If he had a lady friend, she was as quiet as a church mouse.

"It's in the guest room. Had to convert into a sort of home office, after getting a desk job, so many years as a contractor. Got hard on my back. Wanted to enjoy doing nothing, then Sara got knocked up again. Just like Tommy, both of them can't stop having kids. So now I have to be rich gruncle Joel. And I don't know why I'm telling you this instead of just getting the keyboard." He says. Joel pops in, but he doesn't close the door all the way. Peeking in through the hole, it seems familiar. Like you've seen it before, but recently. You shrug off the deja vu and take the keyboard from him. But as he hands it to you, familiar stickers facing you, you piece it together.

"Thicktexanbeercan" had the same one. And you recognized it because you "decorated" it as a sticker obsessed teen. There was no way. Mr. Miller was not camming. You had not orgasmed to him dirty talking to you. And most importantly, he had not come all over a photo of your tits. It was just a huge, cosmic coincidence. But there was only one way to find out.

The wait until your first paycheck was too long, yet you had to endure. There is no way you were taking money out of your savings to fulfill possibly Joel's wishlist. So when that sum hit your bank account, you expertly navigated to thicktexanbeercan's page. Clicking on the shop icon, you choose to ignore that the man is selling his nudes, his underwear, and his socks. Though tempted by the Polaroids of his cock, you move on. You buy the custom temporary tattoos, a callback to a previous stream. Your pussy twitches at the memory and you're quick to suppress your urges. You send your "requirements" to the Amazon seller and hope they get them ready soon. You also secretly order some for yourself, shipping them to a friend's house. You start tuning into the streams regularly, watching them all the way through. Your coworkers have the grace to not comment. Especially since the nightly nsfw is always in the background of something else. So you're doing research on one screen, while listening to maybe Joel call you a nasty whore for watching him.

TGIF was never your thing, until this one. Your cowboy walked in with a package, his address dutifully scribbled out. He opens it and out comes the sheet of temporary tattoos.

"Oh, someone's been watching me for some time, huh. Can't get enough of me inked. Well, I aim to please, so let's get this show on the road.". Beercan undresses to his boxers and starts examining the tattoos.

"Whoever picked these out is one creative motherfucker. I like them.". He starts showing them off to the camera, chuckling about the "save a horse, ride a cowboy" and subsequently the "don't ride a horse, but I'm hung like one". But one in particular makes him tick.

"Your throat goes here? Really, sweetheart? You expect me to walk around with that, to make you all see it as I stroke my cock for you? Fuck it, it's my job to give you a good show." He peels off two of those and places them on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. Was he? He was. Thicktexanbeercan was gonna live up to his name, by using both hands to jerk off.

He's fast, wanting this to end. His Friday shows weren't that popular, so no use milking it. Now, on Saturdays, that's when most people tune in. It's better to save his stamina for then. But you and the chat had other plans. You had mobilized them as he was busy answering questions earlier. Now, he would get enough tokens for a cumshot. Maybe Joel really aims to please. So he goes for it, double orgasm, sure. Then, as soon as that one's over, another. He barks at the chat that he doesn't like being bossed around like that. But you have him cumming until he's shooting blanks. After he just shuts off the stream and goes to bed after running a wet towel on his stomach, to wipe off the cum.

Less than 8 hours later, there's a constant ring of his doorbell. He opens and you're standing there, looking so fuckable his cock stands to attention. You're wearing a skimpy outfit and your lips are shiny with a pinkish gloss. But that doesn't stop him from wondering why you're gracing his doorstep like an angel sent straight from hell.

“I need help picking out a present for my dad.” You say.

“Sweetpea, I know you've been away for a while, but that doesn't change the fact that your dad's birthday isn't for months.” he replies.

"I know. It's not for that. I fucked up and broke something of his. Can you help me?" You ask.

"Sure, what do you need from me?" He counters.

"I think I wanna be stereotypical and get him something stereotypically dad-like. Like a craft beer, something he can crack open with the boys. And since you're "the boys," I'm here. Need a recommendation for a thick Texan beercan." You watch him react. He twitches like a rabbit spooked by a stick snapping.

"So you know. But I'm sure your parents wouldn't be thrilled by the fact that you're watching porn. Have you ever donated, I wonder. Bought something with their hard earned money. Straight from your father's wallet to your daddy." Joel counters, not missing the way your eyes glaze over when he calls yourself your daddy. But you are not won over so easily.

"You're a liar. Late 40s, my ass. Late 40s when you last had to change your ID or what? I could expose you. I'm sure the girlies and the rest watching you would love to know they were scammed. Tinder swindler, but worse."

"What do you want?" He tries.

"As Lana del Rey said, put me in the movie. Let me be in a video." You demand.

"Come back at night, around 9. Get something to cover your face too. Don't need someone recognizing you." He says.

You follow his instructions like an obedient puppy. You make up excuses to your parents. Your cunt's shaved, your outfit is complete and you're not wearing underwear. Joel drags you in, literally. He looks at the pink cowboy hat you have in hand and chuckles.

"No saying my name, preferably not saying much. Just follow my lead, and I'll make you feel good. If you wanna stop, what do you say?" He lists clinically.

"Light beer," you say, acknowledging the pun behind his moniker. You should've figured this out way earlier.

He half laughs, half looks disappointed at your bad pun. You know he's gonna get you back for this , sooner or later. You just desperately hope it's with his dick.

Joel starts the stream. He makes you sit in his chair as he gets a bit closer to the camera. You can see him, mic clipped to chocker and all. He speaks to his chat, introducing you as a "special cowgirl guest.".

"Bet you all wanna take her place. I'm sure she can tell you all about it. If she can speak after I'm done with her anyway." He continues. You wanna protest, to bite back with a comment. But he crawls between your legs, placing kisses up to your pussy. And you are speechless. The fact that you can see him, dark brown eyes and gorgeous roman nose is too much. He's even revealing the top of his greying hair. You grip it and bring him closer to your center. He chooses to lick and suck your clit instead and you moan so loud, even the felt of your hat doesn't muffle it.

"Gonna make you extra wet so you can take my cock, doll. Would you like that?" He asks and you reply with "yes, daddy". You can hear him extra crisp, the audio bouncing around the room. It's all too much, every fantasy of yours coming to life. You come against him, riding it out.

"You ready for more, my little fuckdoll? Can I?" He asks. You plead, you tell him you need him.

Joel makes sure to zoom the camera to your sopping cunt, showing you off to the chat. He fiddles with it, making sure it captures your greed. He sits on the chair, swatting your ass to get you up. Legs trembling, you do. He unzips his jeans, the sound as familiar to you as a notification on your phone. He puts it against you, just to give his viewers a preview on how deep he was gonna be in you.

"You think I'll fuck her up. Make this pussy memorize the shape of my cock. Let's give this pretty doll her first cervix bruising, shall I?" He says. He slides his cock in you in one swoop motion, not caring about the stretch.

"Just like that." You moan, dangerously close to saying his name. Joel spreads your legs and fucks into you. He's all grunts and swears, gone is his dirty talk. His hands are grabby, squeezing your thighs. He's so pussy whipped that he says

"Let me come inside you. Please. Need to.". The "yes, yes, daddy" is enough for him to do so and continue thrusting in you until he's soft. Joel rolls the chair forward, "manually zooming" his camera. His audience gets a pretty shot of his cum dripping out of you before the broadcast cuts out. He helps you up and draws a bath. If the camming paid for the clawfoot tub you saw, hell you'd join in more.

"You know, what we did was wrong. But it sure as hell felt right. I'm not saying we should do this daily. But maybe instead of both of us getting off on each other from afar, we can do it together." He asks, almost a schoolboy confession.

“Yes Joel, I wanna fuck you again too. Now shut and let me enjoy my life after taking your thick Texan beercan.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

heatwave ~ matt murdock;marvel

word count: 3306

request?: no

description: in which a terrible heatwave has hit hell's kitchen, and it's leading to some lewd thoughts about her roommate

pairing: matt murdock x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (shower sex, oral - f receiving, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, matt asks for permission, a smidgeon of begging, naked cuddling afterwards but like...actually cuddling, not a euphemism)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was an unbearably hot day in Hell's Kitchen. Hot enough that it was making the "Hell" part seem a little too real. It was the type of hot that leaving the window open filled the apartment with heat, but closing it made the place feel like a heat box. There was just no escaping it.

I was grateful to have the day off because it was definitely too hot to work, but at the same time I knew my job had working AC. Matt and I had been saving up for a working AC unit, but it was difficult when other expenses kept getting in our way. Matt kept insisting that when he finally got promoted to a lawyer position, we wouldn't have to worry so much about the apartment expenses, but he and Foggy had been in the same position at Landon and Zack - and unhappily so 0 for so long that I was starting to double they'd get a promotion at that law firm specifically.

Either way, for now all Matt and I had was a shitty fan that blew just enough cold air to make living in this heat bearable. I was wearing my shortest shorts and thinnest tank top, laid out on our couch with the fan directly on me. I was still extremely hot to a point where I just wanted to crawl out of my skin as it felt like the only option.

I couldn't even bring myself to turn my head as i heard the front door open and shut. I knew who it was anyways, even without the familiar sound of Matt's cane folding up. When he did walk into my eyeline, I scoffed. "How are you walking around dressed like that?"

Matt was in a pair of long dress pants, a light blue button up - with no sweat stains, might I add - and his tie pulled tight to his neck. Looking at him alone was making me overcome with heat.

Matt chuckled. "I have no choice in the matter. Can't exactly walk into a law firm in daisy dukes and a wife beater."

I snickered at the idea of Matt Murdock in daisy dukes.

I met Matt over a year ago after he had responded to my "roommate wanted" ad. My last roommate had moved out suddenly with very little notice, leaving me to try and pay rent for the apartment on my minimum wage salary. So to say I was desperate for a roommate is an understatement. Still, I was a little hesitant to answer Matt's response to my post. He was a strange man, and it was just me in the apartment. A girl can't be too careful in this day and age. But, again, I was desperate, so I agreed to meet up with him to discuss moving in.

Imagine my shock, and slight relief, when a well dressed, blind man introduced himself as an intern at Landon and Zack, and was also needing a roommate as his internship didn't pay enough to cover rent at his own place, plus his student debt.

The next week, he was moving into my apartment.

I liked Matt. He was easy to get along with, and he pulled his weight around the apartment. And in general, he was a nice guy. I liked hanging out with him, and with Foggy whenever he was over, too. I did feel like I hit the jackpot for roommates with him.

Matt made his way to his room. In the process, I noticed him pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I tried not to be so obvious in my staring, until I remembered he couldn't actually see me staring at him.

Okay, yeah, I may have had fantasies about Matt. Can you blame me? He's a handsome man, and I am but a girl. Not like anything would happen between us. It couldn't happen. That'd make things incredibly awkward around the apartment.

When Matt came back out of his room, he was changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him navigate around the room, as if searching for something, before turning to me.

"You're hogging the fan."

I scoffed. "There was no one to hog it from until a few minutes ago."

"Well, there is now, and you're hogging it."

I rolled my eyes. "Just come sit on the couch, idiot. I'll position the fan so it's on both of us."

Matt moved slowly towards the couch. When we first started living together, I would often try to help Matt with things around the apartment, such as moving from point A to point B. I thought it was helpful, until one day Matt assured me that he could do things on his own.

"I have been blind for most my life," he had said. "I've learned how to live with it."

So, after that, I stopped helping unless Matt asked. Like now, just watching him navigate to the couch. When he got close enough, I sighed and extended a hand to him. "Grab my hand, ding dong."

He chuckled. "Ding dong? Are you 12?"

"Almost."

Matt took my hand and I slowly led him to the couch, then patted the cushion so Matt could hear where to sit. I didn't expect him to plop himself down so close to me, but he decided to sit so close that our arms were brushing against one another. I tried to ignore it by tilting the fan so it was blowing on both of us.

"We should get an inflatable pool," I suggested.

Matt chuckled. "And put it where? We live in an apartment building. We don't exactly have a backyard."

"Put it in the living room."

"I'm sure our landlord would appreciate that."

"It's not like he'd know. In all the years I've lived here, I think he's been by twice."

Matt tilted his head towards me. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're so no fun, Matt."

We fell into a silence that made me remember that Matt was sat so close to me. I tried to sneak a glance at him, and then once again remembered he couldn't see me anyways, so I allowed myself to look. I allowed myself to glance at the way his shorts were riding up, showing off his thigs. I allowed myself to glance at his arms, weirdly strong for a lawyer, and now with the added touch of sweat making him glisten.

God, I'm no better than a man.

I was suddenly a lot hotter, with a particular heat pulsing between my legs.

"You alright?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Matt's voice. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You're...quiet."

I chuckled. "Didn't know quiet was a bad thing."

"It's not, but you're...I don't know. There's something different about this silence."

"It's just hot."

I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. I just needed some distance before I did something incredibly stupid. I needed this heat to fuck off so Matt and I could put more clothes on and I wouldn't have to see so much of his skin that it turned me into a prepubescent boy.

I muttered something about showering before rushing to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. I wasn't actually sure about showering at first, but now that I was away from the fan I was starting to feel too hot and sweaty again. A cold shower wouldn't go astray, and I had definitely been sweating enough all day to warrant showering.

I turned on the shower, turning the cold tap almost all the way while turning the hot tap just enough to make it so the water wasn't bitterly cold. I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped under the cold water. I don't know how I hadn't thought of a cold shower before, but it was definitely the best idea. The downside was that eventually I'd have to get back out into the hot, humid air of the apartment, but for the time being I was content with standing under the cold water until my fingers and toes were prunes.

I wasn't paying much attention to anything besides how nice the cold water felt, otherwise I might've heard the bathroom door opening. I might've heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, joining my own discarded pile. But I definitely did not miss the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back, revealing a completely naked Matt Murdock.

I shrieked in shock, my heart racing a million miles a second from the scare.

"Matt, what the fuck?!" I snapped.

"You forgot a towel," he said, gesturing to the two towels he had laid on the counter.

"So you had to get completely naked to bring me some towels?"

"Well, to bring you a towel. The other is for me."

When he stepped into the shower, I tried to back away, but damn this small apartment with its small shower. There wasn't much further I could move from him without stepping completely under the shower head and practically drown myself. It took everything in my power to keep my eyes on his face and not to let them venture lower.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. I tried to sound forceful, confident, but instead my voice came out soft, nearly a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he was reaching for me. I knew I should've pulled away, or pushed him away, or insisted that he leave because this was definitely pushing a boundary that we should not cross as roommates. That's what I should've done. Instead, I let Matt's hands find my waist. I let him pull me to him, pressing our bodies together under the cold water. I no longer had to fight not to look down between his legs, because now it was pressed against me.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

"Your heart was racing," he said, like that answered everything.

"Yeah, you scared me. That tends to be the usual reaction."

"No, I mean earlier. One the couch. When I was next to you, it started beating harder and faster."

"How do you know that?"

"I could hear it."

If it were any other circumstances, I probably would've laughed at that. I probably would've made some quip about him having super hearing since he was blind. But my mind wasn't functioning properly. Not with Matt pressed up against me like that, holding me like that. His hands wandering over my body the way they were.

"We-we can't," I finally managed.

"Why not?"

"We live together, Matt. It'll make everything awkward."

"Or maybe we'll finally get rid of this tension between us and can find out how we wanna proceed afterwards."

Tension between us? Does that mean he's had the same thoughts I've had? Does he feel the same way I've been feeling about him?

My mind was rushing when Matt kissed me, so much so that I almost didn't register it at first. It was a shock, and then it felt right. I placed my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. One of his hands found their way to my hair, tangling in the wet locks to hold me in place, while the other drifted down my body until it came to rest on my ass. I could feel him pressed against my stomach, his hard cock twitching. In the time Matt and I had lived together, I had met all of his "girlfriends", who liked to brag about being with Matt because they were all threatened by his female roommate. I was glad to report that the bragging about what he was packing had not just been to make me jealous.

Matt tugged at my hair, which resulted in a gasp slipping from my lips. He smirked, and I just knew that bastard was making mental notes of everything that made me have involuntary reactions. He pulled my head back to expose my neck to him. He kissed my jawline and down my neck, nipping at areas that would certainly leave very visible marks later. He continued moving down my body, trailing kisses from my neck down over my chest, and giving ample attention to my breasts. I was now leaning against the shower wall, my head lulled back at Matt took each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, swirling his tongue around my already hard nipples. I gasped and moaned with each flick of his tongue. I held the back of his head with one hand, grasping at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon, Matt was on his knees on the tile shower floor. We had switched places, so the cold water was now cascading down on him. I was about to offer to move the shower head so he wasn't directly in the line of fire, but Matt cut me off by lifting my leg over his shoulder and immediately diving his tongue into my pussy. I cried out, both in shock and in pleasure.

I had been with a few guys in my lifetime, some of which didn't mind giving oral. But none of them could ever hold a candle to what Matthew Murdock could do with his tongue.

Within seconds of his head being between my legs, I had completely lost any sort of coherence. The only thing my mind could focus on was how good Matt's tongue felt running over my swollen clit; darting in and out of my pussy, as he was quite literally fucking me with his tongue; the feeling of his lips wrapping around my clit and gently sucking on it. It was like he knew exactly what I would like before I even knew. It wasn't long before Matt was holding onto my thighs as they began to quiver, holding me up as my orgasm washed over me. He kept lapping at my cunt, drinking in every drop of me that he could like a man starved.

My legs felt weak. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay stood. Luckily for me, I didn't have to. As Matt got to his feet, he kept hold of my leg. He pressed his body against mine, holding me in place. When he kissed me, I could still taste me on his lips.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked. His tone of voice was nothing I had ever heard from him before. It was full of lust and desire. His hard cock was resting against me, begging to get its own release, but he waited. He waited until I gave him permission.

It was the barest of minimums, but there was something about Matt wanting to hear me say yes that made the dull ache of post-orgasm turn into the tingly feeling of desire once again.

"Yes," I breathed. "Please Matt, fuck me."

He wasted no time in lining himself up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch of him as he filled me up. The stretch stung, but it felt so good. Once he was buried to the hilt inside of me, he took a moment to allow me to adjust to him. I watched as his face contorted in pleasure and I couldn't help but feel a little pride that I was making him feel this good, even if I wasn't the one doing the work.

"Fuck," he sighed. "Can I start fucking you?"

I nodded. Luckily he still had his forehead against mine, so he felt the approval instead of me having to say it outloud.

He started slow, pulling almost all the way out then pushing all the way back in. It was almost an agonizing pace. It felt so good, but every time he slipped everything except the tip out I felt hollow. He reached a spot inside of me that had only been reached a few times before, but with his pace he was only grazing it instead of constantly nudging it the way I wanted him to.

I was getting close to begging him to speed up. A desperate whine even slipped from my mouth when he pulled all the way out of me again. But this time, when he thrusted back inwards, it was fast and rough. The force pushed my ass back against the shower tile.

"Fuck," he breathed again. "I'm trying to make this last, but I really just want to fuck you until your legs are too numb to work anymore."

Another whimper. "Please."

"What was that?"

"Please fuck me," I said. "Fuck me however you want, Matt. I need it. I need it so bad."

He captured my lips in another kiss as he started thrusting into me at a ruthless pace. The sound of our wet skin colliding fill the room over the sound of the running water. It was lewd and naughty, and so good. It was something we'd never come back from as roommates, but I couldn't care less now. Nothing beyond this moment mattered.

Matt reached his other hand between us. He began to rub circles on my clit with his thumb. His thrusts changed slightly, just enough to hit that spot inside me in a way that drove me crazy. I had my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself up, but as I felt another orgasm building I knew I wouldn't be able to stay upright on my own. When the wave crashed over me, I threw my head back against the wall and cried out his name. It was more intense than the first one, so intense that my vision went completely white.

Matt's cock twitched inside of me, the only warning I had before he hit his own high. He buried himself inside me one last time, shooting himself so deep inside of me that I was sure I'd be full of him for weeks. He groaned in pleasure, resting his forehead against mine again.

The shower water had finally gone stark cold. Not that it mattered. We had definitely worked up a new sweat even with the cooling sensation beating against our bodies.

I sighed when Matt finally had to pull himself free of me. He chuckled and leaned in for one final kiss.

"Let's clean you up before we get out."

He slowly lowered me to the edge of the tub. I passed him my body wash and he lathered up his hands to clean between my thighs. He rinsed himself as well before turning off the water. The chill from the water had gotten under my skin enough that I didn't immediately become overwhelmed with heat once the shower was off. Matt wrapped the towel around himself first before wrapping one around me, and then picking me up to carry me out of the bathroom.

"I can walk myself, Matt," I said, although we both knew that was untrue.

"Your still trembling legs say otherwise," he noted.

He carried me to his bedroom. We dried ourselves off as much as we could with the towels before discarding them onto the floor and getting into his bed. Matt pulled me to him, resting my head against his chest. There was still so much we probably should discuss, but neither of us made the effort to say anything. We weren't ready to face the reality of what was next for us as roommates. Instead, we were content to lay together for just a while longer, until the heat became too much to bear once again.

I listened to his heartbeat, and I couldn't help but think about how all of this started because he claimed he could hear my own.

~~~

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