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pearlessance · 2 months

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Our Little Secret [part two]

[PART ONE]

Summary - Joel Miller has commited an act of sin with the girl next door and seeks out penance.

Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, angst, infidelity (not against reader or Joel), heavy on the breeding kink towards the end, jealousy, oral sex, unprotected sex

[crossposted on AO3]

Joel’s fears return with the sun and are amplified tenfold when he wakes up alone.

You must have come to your senses, he thinks. Must have finally seen him for the terrible man he truly is and escaped while you still could. Like fleeing from a predator's clutches; because that’s what he was, wasn’t it? A predator? A man who exploits young girls for his own benefit, who takes advantage of them in an act of personal desire. His stomach turns.

Except that isn’t the whole truth. It isn’t the plural form of girls, it’s just one. Just you. You, who he wants to nurture, to protect, to take care of in the way a man is supposed to take care of a woman. You, who entices him with short skirts and soft touches and tempting words about keeping you all to himself. They must have been words said in the afterglow of sex, Joel tells himself. They didn’t mean anything. Right? Endorphins were high because all of that long laid, pent up sexual tension finally came to fruition. But it was over now, and Joel was alone. Again.

The abrupt shattering of glass slashes through his bleak thoughts. He wrenches himself out of bed, takes the stairs two at a time, and stops in the kitchen.

You’re still here, and Joel can breathe a little easier, but there’s glass at your bare feet, and that’s a problem. “Don’t move,” he says. He turns to grab the broom, but out of the corner of his eye he sees movement and repeats a little harsher this time, “Don’t. Move.”

“I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed,” you say, your lips pushed out into the cutest little pout.

He sweeps the glass away from you, careful to get every last piece, and dumps the shards into the trash can. It’s only then, when he knows for certain the risk of harm has well and truly passed and he’s the only threat to you left in the room, that Joel can appreciate the sight before him. There’s a heaping plate full of pancakes on the counter, a mug of steaming coffee, and the orange juice carton, unopened, is sitting beside two forks. The pancake on the top of the stack has chocolate chips in it.

Maybe its because he never thought you’d actually do it, or maybe it’s because of the grim mood he’d just been in, but Joel finds himself feeling appreciative for more than just breakfast. It reminds him of that morning all those years ago, when you’d been in his kitchen wearing his flannel. He wonders if you still have it, if you still wear it, if you still put it on and think of him late at night. You’re wearing something new this time. It’s just an old, faded t-shirt Joel had forgotten about at the back of his closet, one he hadn’t worn in years. It swallows you up. It’s long enough to cover all of your most intimate parts, and yet somehow you still make it look sexy and erotic and slutty.

He knows it's wrong. He knows its a terrible, awful idea…but it’s the next morning and you’re still here and Joel just cant’t help himself. He smiles softly at you. “It’s okay,” he promises. He closes the distance between you, crowding you against the counter. He puts his hands on your hips and you look up at him with parted lips. “I won’t make it back upstairs anyway. I’m too hungry.”

You put your hands on his bare chest, delicate, red painted nails scratching softly against his skin. “Is that right?”

Joel nods, and decides to soak up the moment. Your hair is tangled around your shoulders, and you smell like him, and your makeup is smeared around your eyes, and he thinks you’re beautiful. He never wants to forget the way you look right now, in his clothes, in his kitchen, in his hands. He can’t help himself from leaning his head against your shoulder and kissing the juncture of your collar bone. He can’t help himself from tasting you, from using his teeth, from leaving a bruise to make certain he’s in your head for a few more days. He wants the sound of your breathy moan embedded in his fucking brain, wants it stamped in his skin. “Yes,” he answers, lifting you up with his big arms around your waist and setting you on the counter. “I’m starving, actually.”

Starved is such a perfect term for it, he thinks. Because Joel lowers himself to his knees before you, and his mouth waters like he hasn’t eaten in days. He massages the supple flesh of your thighs, presses his mouth to the inside, and leaves marks there, too. He has suffered for so, so long without you. And if you come to your senses, he wants you to think of him every time you look in a mirror.

He wants you to think of him and the way he makes you feel, wants you to think of the way your legs part for him on instinct, like your body knows him. If you come to your senses, Joel wants you to remember for the rest of your fucking life how it feels to have his tongue inside of you, to have your clit between his lips, to have your hands in his hair.

He wants you to remember what it’s like to grind your pretty pussy on his face, what it’s like to have his fingers inside of you, what it’s like to shake and tremble at his touch and whine when he pulls away moments before you cum. He wants you to remember the lingering taste of yourself in his mouth when he kisses you, wants you to remember how fucking perfect it feels when he pulls his cock out of his sweatpants and buries it deep inside you. You like it when he pushes in so far there’s no telling where you end and he begins, Joel knows. You make the prettiest sounds, and your hands grip his shoulders a little tighter. You’re so needy for him it’s unreal, so reactive, so perfect. He wants you to remember what it feels like when he kisses you with all the love he has left in him, hoping you can hear the words in his movements. He wants you to remember what it feels like to cum on his cock and leave a mess on the counter.

Joel wants you to remember what it’s like to be so desperate for him you call out for God.

When the two of you finally get around to eating the breakfast you spent all morning making, the pancakes are cold and the coffee is tepid. Joel wonders why it’s still the best cup he’s ever had.

After breakfast, your cell phone buzzes. It’s a voicemail from campus housing, and Joel realizes you can’t stay here in his kitchen forever. You help him clean up the dishes, and the counter where he made a mess of you, and then you abandon his old, faded t-shirt and pull your dress back on. He helps you find your shoes (and conveniently fails to mention the pink panties still stuck between the couch cushions. Joel is a terrible, sordid man, and stealing a bit of lace is the least of his recent transgressions). You pick up the Evil Dead DVD, and start to leave.

But just as your fingers touch the handle, the door is swinging open and Sarah is standing in the threshold.

Joel doesn’t know what to do. His heart is stuck in his throat, and he sort of feels like a kid again, being caught by Tommy while sneaking back in through his window. He doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t know where to begin, is terrified his daughter will begin to see him differently, or—

“Perfect timing,” you say, and Joel is more confused than he’s ever been in his life. “Here.” You hand the DVD to Sarah, who’s face splits into a grin the moment she reads the title. “I have to head back to campus today, but wanted to give this to you before I go. Figured you’d get more use out of it than I would.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

“Language,” Joel chastises.

You and Sarah both turn your heads to him simultaneously, and shoot him mirrored dismissive looks. Joel knows his only child is older now, growing into a young woman with a colorful vocabulary, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear it.

Sarah turns to you, cheery demeanor falling away. “I wish you could stay,” she says. “I miss having you around.”

Joel does too, but he keeps his mouth sealed firmly shut.

When you’re gone, he feels empty. He falls back into his normal routine of work and beer and pool, and you leave town to finish up your school year, and the only time he ever hears about you is when your dad drinks a couple too many and talks about you over the football game on TV. Joel hears about how you finish your junior year of college, still with those straight A's, and he feels the need to express how proud he is of you. Because he really, really is…but it’s your dad’s job to gush about what an extraordinary woman you’ve become. Not Joel’s. So, he keeps his mouth shut about that, too.

He thinks about the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder, and thinks it’s such bullshit. Because the longer you’re away, the more he realizes how stupid he’s been. How dispicable and sleazy he’s been, how he could have potentially fucked up not only his relationship with his very best friend but with his own daughter, too. You deserve more than what he can offer, Joel knows. You deserve someone to experience being a young adult with, someone who you can relate to, someone who can take care of you for the rest of your life. You deserve someone better than Joel, and even though it hurts to admit, he does it. Distance has made his heart grow smarter.

Sarah graduates, and you stay in town for only two days to attend her graduation party. Your dad offers to host the celebration in his backyard, and Joel reminisces about your graduation party. He remembers how pretty you looked, how happy you were that day. And when you come back to town to celebrate his daughter, he loves that you’re still so bubbly and airy and carefree. He loves that you spend an entire day with Sarah picking out decorations and hanging up streamers and ordering cupcakes and making a poster board filled with Sarah’s favorite pictures.

During the party, you’re leaning your shoulder against the fence, red solo cup in hand, talking to Tommy. You’re wearing a black skirt that’s too short, too tight, and you have a pretty pink blouse tucked into it. When you cross one leg casually over the other, Joel realizes you have a run in your sheer, black tights. How did that get there, he wonders? He wonders too, why you’re giggling like that when Tommy just isn’t that fucking funny.

Joel crosses the yard and twists off the top of his beer. “You two enjoying yourselves?”

“Yeah! It’s been a great turn out, and she seems happy,” you say, nodding to Sarah on the other side of the yard. She’s talking to a group of girls in her class.

“You did great with her yesterday, you know,” Tommy tells you. “You’d be a great mom. When’s it your turn to have babies?”

“Oh, God,” you say. Joel hears the echo of a very, very different sounding ‘oh, god,’ and takes a hefty sip of beer. “Probably not anytime soon.”

“No? Why not? Finish college first, of course, but after that?”

You only have one year left of school. There’s no rush. Why is his brother so interested in your contribution to procreation, anyway? It’s fucking weird, Joel thinks.

“Maybe one day. I’d have to find the right man first,” you say. “You know, do it real traditional.”

“Any prospects lined up?”

“Christ, Tommy,” Joel sneers. “Leave the poor girl alone, would you?” He has no room to talk, Joel knows…but he can’t help himself. Not around you, anyway. His self control goes out of the window.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And…no. No prospects.”

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. “Now I know you’ve got all those big city boys up there waiting on you to give them a little attention. A girl like you?” He sucks in an exaggerated breath. “You’d get scooped up real fast.”

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it,” you say dismally. “They’re all boys. I said I want a man.”

Joel can’t believe the words he’s hearing. Can’t believe how you could be so obvious, but how Tommy could still manage to look completely oblivious. He’s relieved when Sarah steals you away to introduce you to a friend.

Joel helps your dad prepare the grill, and they talk about how crazy it is that both of their girls are grown up now. They talk about how old they’re getting, and how fast time flies, but Joel can’t pay attention because he can feel you. Can sense when you steal a glance at him from across the yard, because goosebumps break out across the back of his neck. He watches you disappear into the house, and excuses himself to follow you.

He shouldn’t. Joel knows this. But, Christ, is he bad at following his instincts. He finds you on the tips of your toes, hands in the liquor cabinet, and wants to laugh at the irony. History repeats itself, it seems. He stands behind you with a hand on your hip and reaches for the half empty bottle of tequila. He sets it on the counter and when you don’t even turn to look at him he says indignantly, “You’re welcome.”

You wiggle the cork free and take a swig straight from the bottle. “You want me to thank you? For what, exactly?”

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t understand your bad attitude. He doesn’t understand why you’re so happy and bubbly to everyone else, but for some reason seem so… dissapointed with him. Joel might be a pervert when it comes to you, but he’s never, ever done anything you didn’t ask him for first. And it’s not fair, he thinks, that you get whatever you want. You get to go off to college and fuck boys that leave you unsatisfied. Because Joel knows Tommy was right — he knows they’re lined the fuck up for you. He’s not stupid. You get to leave him, and live your life, while Joel is forced to stay right where he is and think of you. You, you, you, all the fucking time. It’s not fair. If anyone should be angry, it’s him. “Oh, I dont know,” he says sarcastically. “Maybe for keeping all of your secrets.”

You turn to face him and lean your back against the counter. You’re in the same exact spot you were the first time you kissed his cheek, except this time you’re narrowing your eyes at him instead. “They’re your secrets now, Joel,” you tell him. “Not mine.”

“How are they not yours?”

“Because I don’t give a shit if the whole world knows them,” you say. “I don’t care if everyone here finds out what a slut I am. I don’t care if my dad finds out I fucked his best friend. But you do. Which makes them your secrets.”

He doesn’t understand. “Are you saying you want him to find out?” The thought alone chokes him with anxiety. It would change everything — everything. No one would ever look at him the same. His perversion would be loudly on display. “Are you insane?”

“No, Joel,” you say. “I’m not insane. I just don’t lie to myself.”

“I don’t—”

“Then tell me right now you don’t want to be with me.”

He’s in way over his head, Joel thinks. He doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know how to explain to you that it has nothing to do with what he wants and everything to do with what he is. He can’t lie, not to you, so he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing.

It’s answer enough, though, and when you speak again your voice is a whisper, a breath of life into a brand new secret. “You can have me,” you say. “I want to be yours. I think I always have been. Please, Joel… please.”

He hates the way you sound. He wants to fix it, but doesn’t know how. So, he does what he’s good at, he does what he knows makes you feel good. Joel kisses you hard, and savors the taste of cherry because something tells him this might be the last time. Your mouth opens, and your tongue is so soft against his, and he can’t get enough. Does it make him a bad person to want you so badly? Twenty-one-almost-twenty-two is a fair bit of life lived, isn’t it? Maybe it could work. Maybe he wouldn’t drag you down or keep you in Texas when you’re meant for far bigger things.

Joel slips his hand between your thighs and lets out a ragged moan when he realizes that you’re wearing nothing beneath your skirt. It’s just the nylon fabric of your tights, and he can feel the wetness gathering, can taste you on the tip of his tongue like a word he can’t quite remember. Joel wants a refresher. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to be real quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?”

You nod frantically, and Joel gets on his knees. He pushes the fabric of your skirt up your legs and it bunches around your hips. He rips the nylon tights apart, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of your pussy, shiny with desire. Desire he created, desire that belongs to him and him alone. Pride fills him when he thinks about it for too long.

He doesn’t waste a second. Joel worships you like a man starved, and wonders if he’ll ever be satisfied. Wonders if he’ll ever get his fill of the sweetness between your thighs, wonders if he’ll ever tire of hearing you whimper. He licks at your clit, leaving no part of you untouched, and his cock strains in the confines of his jeans. Just tasting you has him teetering on the edge of release, but he wants this to be about you. He wants to show you how much you mean to him, wants you to know that just because he can’t be with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be. He slips two fingers into you and curls them upward, and you have to cover your mouth with your hand because you promised to be quiet.

Joel makes you cum in his mouth, and feels like maybe his place in the world is right fucking here, on his knees for you, because its the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Better than cherry, he thinks. But not as good as it feels to be inside of you.

He turns you around and shoves your chest down against the counter. As he unbuckles his belt, he presses a kiss to your spine and says, “You want a real man, is that right?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “Yes. I want you.”

Joel slides the tip of his cock through your slick, lips turning up at the corners as you roll your hips back towards him. “I know you do, sweetheart,” he says. “Slutty girls need a little bit more, don’t they?”

You nod, a desperate whine coming from your chest. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please.”

His name in your mouth is the end of his restraint. He eases into you, memorizing how it feels to stretch you out, memorizing how tight your pussy is, how fucking perfect it feels wrapped around him. Joel kisses your cheek softly and buries himself inside of you completely. “I want you to think about me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, hips rolling against yours slowly. “When you go back to school and do this with all those other boys, I want you to think about me.”

He pulls out at an agaonizingly slow pace, and slams into you without warning. Your hand over your mouth barely muffles the sound. “Fuck.”

“They can’t make you feel like this, can they, baby?”

“Mm’no,” you answer, and Joel rewards you with another hard, deep stroke. “Just you, Joel, just you, just you, just you.”

It’s a prayer, he knows. He can feel the devotion in your words, and the piety makes him ache. Is this how it’s supposed to be? Is it supposed to feel like this? Like pain, like loss, like finality? Like intensity, like consumption, like religion? Joel wants to say it. He wants to say it so fucking bad. He says something disgusting instead. “This pussy was made for me, you understand?” He reaches beneath you, and his fingers swipe over your clit, and your legs start to shake. “It’s all me, pretty girl. It’s all fucking mine.”

You clench around him, and he has to hold you up to keep you from falling. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and Joel wants to stay inside of you forever. “Yours,” you say softly. “I’m yours, Joel.”

Oh, how pretty you sound, he thinks. He’s going to miss this. He’s going to miss you so fucking bad. And because he may never get another chance to say it, Joel decides to make one more really fucked up, awful decision.

He decides to tell the truth.

When he spills his cum inside of you, he buries himself as deep as he can. He kisses your forehead and murmurs, “I love you, baby.”

He feels lighter, now that the words are no longer trapped in his chest cavity. You don’t say anything, and he’s not sure what that means, but Joel knows it’s not smart to stay like this. So he pulls out of you, tucks himself back into his jeans, and fixes your skirt.

The door flys open, and Joel is absolutely fucking mortified to see your father and Tommy walk into the kitchen.

You uncork the tequila and raise the bottle to the air, cheeks flushed but easily passable as a buzz. “To growing up,” you say proudly. You take a swig and gimace at the taste.

Joel pulls the whiskey from the cupboard and pours shots for himself, your dad, and Tommy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you pulling at the ends of your skirt, barely covering the rip in your tights.

“To graduations,” your dad says. “Sarah’s today, and another one of yours next year.” He tilts the shot glass toward you before tossing the liquid back.

Tommy raises his glass. “To hopefully getting little nieces or nephews soon!”

Joel thinks his brother is drunk on shitty beer. Joel also thinks about his cum between your legs. He raises his glass. “To getting old,” he says, though he’s not particularly happy about it. The whiskey feels good going down. It acts as a buffer to shield him temporarily against the truth that gnaws at his psyche; he’s going to lose you.

Sarah decides to attend college at the same university as you, and Joel can’t help but be a little nervous. It’s your senior year, and Sarah’s only a freshman, and Joel knows she’s going to cling to you, and you’re going to let her, and he isn’t sure how he feels about Sarah hanging out with people older than her.

It turns out okay, from what he can tell, though. It’s weird to have an empty home, but he fills his time with work and helping your dad renovate your house. Joel doesn’t hear from you. Even when you visit during Christmas break, you barely manage to look at him. He doesn’t force the conversation, either. He knows it’s for the best. And that deep, aching feeling in his chest is just something he’ll have to find a way to get over.

Sarah drones on and on about how much she loves college, about how many friends she has, about how you’re tutoring her in English and how thankful she is when you help get her a job as a barista.

And when the holiday is over, you’re standing outside beside your car, saying goodbye to your dad while Sarah hugs Tommy beside you. Joel approaches, holds his daughter tight, and reminds her to let him know if she needs anything.

There’s a weird, uncomfortable moment when your eyes meet for the first time all week. It would be weird if he didn’t say goodbye to you, wouldn’t it? It would prompt questions from both Tommy and your father, because the two of you had once been so close.

You move first. You plaster an awkward smile on your face and wrap your arms around his neck. Joel’s shoulders relax for the first time in months.

It feels so right to hold you, as easy and painless as breathing. He puts his hands on the small of your back, and his fingers twitch with the urge to slide them down and grab a fistful of your ass. Instead, he holds you tightly and relishes in the feeling of your head on his chest. He lays his cheek against your hair and breathes the sweet scent of vanilla deep into his lungs. “You too,” he says. “Call if you need anything, alright? Anything at all.”

You nod and pull away, and Joel wonders if you know how much he means it. A single phone call and he’d be on the other side of Texas in an hour, because that’s what you mean to him. You’re not his, but he wants to love you like you are.

And he’s given the chance to prove himself just a few short days later.

He’s watching the soft flakes of snow fall from the sky through his bedroom window when Joel’s phone rings. It’s an unknown number, which he’d normally ignore and block in the morning, but something tells him to answer it. Just this once. So he does, and he’s getting ready to tell the telemarketer to fuck off, but then he hears your voice.

“Joel? Are you there?”

“What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, and he’s throwing the blanket back and searching for his jeans on the floor. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you crying? And why are you calling from an unknown number?”

“My phone’s dead,” you explain. “There’s, uhm—there’s a pay phone outside of my dorm. I didn’t want to wait for my phone to charge.”

Something is off, Joel can feel it in his bones. He holds his phone with his shoulder and pulls on his leather boots. “Talk to me,” he says.

“Actually, I—I’m sorry. It’s late. This is stupid. I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry. Have a good night, Jo—”

“Baby,” he interrupts. “Baby, baby—don’t hang up. Talk to me. Please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, yeah? Tell me.”

You don’t say anything, but Joel can hear you breathing on the other end of the phone, can hear you teetering on the edge of a decision you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. He understands. He really, really does.

Finally, you sigh heavily and say, “You told me you loved me Joel. You said…you said that and then you just let me leave. You just—you—you…God!”

The hands of guilt wind themselves around his neck and squeeze as realization hits. He is the reason you’re upset, the reason you’re crying, the reason you’re hurting. He hates it more than he’s ever hated anything in his life.

He doesn’t speak. He lets you get it all out, lets you purge your anger and disdain, your disappointment. It’s all rightfully placed, Joel thinks. “You asshole! Why would you do that? How could you say that and then go back to acting like it changed nothing? I’ve tried to get past it but I can’t, Joel! You never should have let me leave or—or you never should have said it if you didn’t mean it! It’s just—I don’t…it hurts! It’s mean! You’re being so—!”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. Rightfully placed or not, he’s not strong enough to hear the sorrow in your voice, not strong enough to hate himself more than he already does. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. He’s not apologizing for it. Joel’s not sorry at all for that overwhelming feeling you elicit in his chest. He’s only sorry he said it, sorry it’s caused you so much pain. If he’d known it would hurt you this much, he would’ve swallowed those words and kept them locked up for the remainder of his life.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” you say. “I want you to say it again and mean it this time.”

Joel doesn’t understand. It’s cruel, isn’t it, to ask him to do something knowing it will hurt you? He can’t. He’s already done enough damage. He can’t.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Joel.”

He runs an exasperated hand down his face, and pressure builds behind his eyes. He can’t. He can’t. How is he supposed to live with himself? How is he supposed to hurt you, this little girl whose life has been made miserable because he couldn’t resist your temptation?

Joel knows he loves you. And he thinks you know it, too. But saying it opens a wound better off sealed, and he wants to watch you flourish. He wants to watch you become your own person, wants to watch you live a full, satisfied life. And you can’t do that with him. He doesn’t think it’s possible.

You let out a breath. “It’s snowing,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say. Instead he says, “You deserve someone better.”

“I don’t want someone be—”

“You deserve someone you can relate to, someone you can grow old with.”

“I can grow old with you, J—”

“I’m already old, god dammit. Listen to me. You deserve something that doesn’t hurt,” he interrupts. “You deserve someone who’s good to you, someone your own age who doesn’t make you cry in the middle of the night. You deserve—”

“I don’t care about any of that, okay? All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

You’re making this impossible, he thinks. He drags a hand down his face. The forbidden fruit is in his hands, begging him to take a bite, and he nearly does it. He opens his mouth to say it, to damn all of the consequences and succumb to whatever hellish fate awaits him in the afterlife all to have you for himself, and then—

“Please insert twenty-five cents for an additional three minutes.”

“I have to go,” you say, voice cracking. “I guess I only wanted to say that I love you more, Joel Miller. Because I would have never let you walk away.”

The line goes dead, and Joel’s sitting there in complete silence with one boot laced, and for the first time in all his life he feels himself swell with grief. The loss is so heavy, so final—and he can’t breathe. His lungs are filling up with all the words left unsaid, and he’s afraid that if he digs out the roots you’ve grown in his chest that nothing will ever feel quite the same again.

The pain is there, and it’s smothering, but if not the pain then what else would he have left of you?

He doesn’t sleep that night. Or the night after that, or the one after that. It takes less than a week of canceling plans and insisting he just has a cold before Tommy is pulling into the driveway and slamming his fists against the door, demanding to know what the hell is going on.

Joel tells him. Over six shots of whiskey and a panic attack, he confesses all of his sins at the kitchen table to his little brother. He expects Tommy to be angry, or disgusted—but he isn’t even surprised. He says, “Well, shit, Joel,” and runs his hands through his hair. “Now what are you going to do?”

A million dollar question, it seems. He wants to drive up to that big university of yours and knock on every door until he finds your dorm room. He wants to exhale all those words trapped inside his chest cavity and keep you for himself like he’s always wanted. But that’s such a selfish thing to do, Joel thinks. It’s not what’s best for you, or him, or anyone.

So he does nothing. Even on his fortieth birthday, when he gets a text message that reads Happy Birthday. I still love you more. He doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t know what to say.

Well, that’s not entirely true—he knows exactly what he wants to say, but chooses to say nothing because if he does it would change his life, your life, the lives of those around you. So Joel suffers in silence and dreams of you instead, repeating the same old habits.

You and Sarah come home for spring break together. And a boy your age gets out of the passenger seat. You introduce him to your dad, and Joel doesn’t catch his name but doesn’t really want to know, anyway.

He tries to swallow the anger in his chest. He can’t expect you to live an empty life that mirrors his. That’s not what he wants for you. The whole point of his avoidance was to make sure you were able to live fully, happily, with someone your own age. Even though his brain is calm enough to rationalize this, it doesn’t change the fact that Joel thinks the boy is a terrible match for you.

Joel’s helping your dad renovate the kitchen, and he’s waited a month so he could get your opinion on a couple things. At the hardware store, the four— five —of you are debating between three different backsplashes. Joel and Sarah stand a foot behind, watching the scene unfold.

Your dad has a single white, porcelain tile in his hand. “It’s nice and bright,” he says.

“But you painted the cabinets white,” you argue, holding up the sage green ceramic piece. “Change it up a little. The green would look better, I swear.”

The boy at your side holds a piece of sand colored masonry, and says, “You’re crazy. White on white is no good but neither is green. What is this, a soup kitchen?”

From a contractor’s standpoint, Joel agrees that the warm toned green would look far better than the cool toned masonry—but it’s not his place for input. He’s only here to help haul the tiles home and grab the tools they need. And even though the way your little boyfriend speaks to you grates against his nerves, Joel says nothing.

Your dad ends up going with the masonry, calling it a happy medium, but Joel can tell that you're the least happy out of the three. He doesn’t mention it.

Everyone decides on pizza for dinner, and Joel teaches Sarah how to grout tile, and for a single moment everything feels good and normal. Tommy comes over to help with the project, and you’re laughing at something he’s saying with your hands covered in masonry dust, and you seem content—but then your eyes meet from across the room, and Joel feels the Earth tilt on its axis.

Your smile falters, and your jaw feathers, and you quickly look away but not before he catches the flash of hurt in your pretty eyes. It makes him feel nauseous. Joel abandons his tools and heads for the front door. Sarah asks if he’s alright, and he says he just needs some fresh air.

Joel can feel the panic attack coming from a mile away. His palms begin to perspire, his chest constricts, he can’t suck in air fast enough. He reminds himself that you’re here—here, and safe, and happy if not for him. You’re fine. Even if he’s not, you are and that’s all that matters. That thought combined with the cold night air helps a little, abates the fingers of grief around his neck, but then he hears it.

“I know, babe. I’ll be back in town soon. I just need to get through this week and then I’ll take you out to make up for it, alright?”

Joel freezes. He strains his ears, trying to pick up the rest of the words as his anxiety hones itself into fury.

“You know I love you more than her. Of course I do.”

He’s off the porch before he can think better of it. The boy you brought home is standing on the side of the house, cell phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes widen when he sees Joel. “I’ve gotta go,” he says quickly, but before he gets a chance to hang up the phone Joel grabs him by his shirt collar and slams him up against the side of the house.

The words come out slow, even—despite the seething rage that fills him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t knock your teeth down your throat.”

He laughs, actually laughs in Joel’s face and says, “Cause I’ll air out all those dirty little secrets our girl keeps.”

Joel’s grip tightens. The word our grates against his spine.

“What? You don’t like it when people refuse to mind their fucking business? Me either,” he says. “So let me go, or I’ll tell them everything.”

“Let me tell you what’s actually gonna happen,” Joel says, slamming him against the siding, relishing in the gasp of pain he makes in response. “You’re going to go in there and apologize for being such a scumbag. You’re going to come clean, beg her forgiveness, and if she forgives you maybe—maybe then, I’ll let you walk out of here with no broken bones. Do you understand me?”

“And why would I do that? You think she deserves an apology? We’ve been together for over a year, you know that? When was the last time she spread her legs for you, huh?” The timeline slots together in Joel’s brain, and his jaw ticks. “I’m not apologizing for cheating on a slut.”

Joel’s fist flies across his face, leaving a split lip and blood in its wake.

He doesn’t understand what the fuck you even see in this guy. You obviously care about him enough to bring him home, to let him meet your dad, to stay with him for so long, but God —this is the worst person you could’ve ever picked.

“Ooh—good one! Does it make you feel better to hit me ‘cause I can have her and you can’t? Wanna know another one of those dirty little secrets, Joel?” He tilts his head forward and whispers. “She can’t get off unless I let her call me daddy. And ya know, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think her daddy issues come from her real father, do they?”

Joel hits him again, an elbow to the jaw this time.

“Dad!” Sarah’s panic stricken voice cuts through the fog of Joel’s rage.

He just doesn’t get it. You’re smarter than this. You deserve way fucking better than a half-assed relationship with a boy who—Joel stops.

In the dim glow of the porch light, he sees it. He finally fucking sees it. The boy has dark hair, has messy curls on top of his head, has tanned skin and calloused hands and warm eyes. It’s all vaguely familiar.

He looks like Joel. Or, what he looked like twenty years ago, anyway.

Tommy grabs his brother by the shoulders and hauls him away, giving you just enough room to swoop in and coddle your little boyfriend, dabbing at his split lip. Tommy’s shoving Joel backwards, away from you and towards his house next door, but the force isn’t necessary. Because now he knows your newest secret, a real one. He knows you don’t care about this boy—you only care that he looks like Joel, and it brings him a strange satisfaction.

“What the hell is going on?” Your dad asks, standing between the two families.

For a moment, he thinks about outing the bleeding boy to your father. Thinks about telling him how, at the hardware store, he sided with a boy who cheats on you, betrays you, disrespects you. Your father would be just as furious, Joel knows.

But then he thinks about last summer in the kitchen, less than a year ago. He thinks about your phone call in December, he thinks about the look you shared inside moments ago and how deeply that pensive sadness seemed to run. And then he decides he’s already caused enough suffering, and so Joel shrugs and says, “Honest mistake. I thought he was an intruder.”

It’s a shitty lie, and no one believes it, but Sarah has her arm around Joel’s elbow and leads him home before anyone can ask any questions. Tommy says he’ll come over tomorrow to finish the backsplash, and Joel is thankful because he won’t be able to look at you and see that sad look again without crumbling.

Joel’s sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas on the other when Sarah sits beside him with a scolding look on her face. “You don’t get to fuck this up for her.”

“But I didn’t mean to—”

She holds up her pointer finger. “Stop talking. I’m not finished.” Sarah waits until Joel sighs and shrugs his shoulders before continuing. She leans on the table with her elbows and says, “She told me everything.”

His brows pinch together as he searches his daughter's face for something, for anything—but it’s completely blank. “What do you mean?”

“Cat’s out of the bag, dad,” she says. “I know about all of it. The night she brought over that DVD, the night of her grad party, the night of my grad party, the phone call. I know all of it.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t angry with you for telling Sarah. You should have someone to turn to, after all. He doesn’t fault you for that, but Joel also understands how it likely appears. He doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize and explain that what you mean to him is so much more than attraction. “Sarah…Sarah, I—”

“Stop. Talking,” she repeats, and Joel silences. “I honestly was hoping you would tell me before I felt the need to do this,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But you’re a typical man so I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, to offer an explanation, but promptly closes it when she narrows her eyes.

“I can get over the fact that you’re…I don’t know, involved or whatever with my best friend. I can get over that. What I can’t get over is you being a dick to her.”

Joel doesn’t get it. He’s never, ever been disrespectful towards you. He doesn’t have it in him. And the pain he has caused you has always been for your own good— never out of malicious intent. If anything, he’s been nothing but selfless with you. He’s suffered in your place, and he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d end up happy in the end. He gnaws on his bottom lip as Sarah continues.

“She has spent half the semester crying over you and just decided recently that she’s ready to leave the past in the past. She likes him.”

He can’t stay silent any longer. “He’s not good enough for her. You didn’t hear—”

“I don’t care what he did or didn’t do,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “Right now, we’re talking about you. If you don’t want to be with her, if you don’t love her, then let her have this. Even if he breaks her heart, let it be her decision to be with him. Not yours.”

Joel picks at the peeling label on the glass bottle. He stares at it as if the answer to all his problems lies underneath. Quietly, he asks, “And if I do?”

“Do what?”

He swallows, and asks a little clearer this time, “If I do love her, what do I do then?”

“Then you man the fuck up and put your money where your mouth is.”

Joel can’t even be mad about the crude language, because it sounds like advice he would give. There’s so much of his stubborn, loyal attitude in his daughter, and he can’t help but be proud of the woman she’s become. He nods stiffly. “I get what you’re saying. I really do, but—”

“But nothing. If you love her, then love her, dad. It’s not complicated.”

She makes it sound simple, Joel thinks. He wishes so badly that it was.

“What are you so afraid of?”

He’s afraid of losing the friendship with your father, worried about tarnishing the relationship you have with him, terrified of getting old while you continue to exist in your youth. There’s a million things he’s afraid of, but he settles on the biggest one, the fear that sits like a brick in his stomach. “I’m not good enough for her, either.”

Sarah snorts. “You can’t be serious.” When Joel says nothing, she shakes her head in annoyance and says, “Honestly, dad, I don’t understand how you can be so blind. Let me put it in a way you can understand; you love her, and she loves you. Everything else? Get rid of it. It doesn’t matter. Her dad, her boyfriend, Tommy, me—none of us have anything to do with it. You’re both adults, and you’re doing nothing but hurting the both of you trying to be the good guy. Get it now?”

He still doesn’t think it’s so simple, so black and white. But it doesn’t matter what Joel thinks, because there’s a knock at the door and you’re standing on the other side when Sarah answers it. She invites you in, but you insist it isn’t necessary.

“It’s alright,” you say. “I just came to say goodbye.” There’s a sadness in your voice, a familiar sound of longing. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Joel clenches his teeth and looks away when Sarah glances back at him. He can’t see you, and wants to steal one last sinful glance, but thinks better of it.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, yeah—I know it’s early, but I don’t…I don’t know. I thought I was ready but now I’m not…I’m not so sure.” You sniffle, and Joel feels his chest crack wide open. “I’ll come back at the end of the week to drive you back to campus. But you’ll call me every day, yeah? So I won’t miss you so much?”

Sarah laughs softly, and disappears from sight. Joel can hear your soft sigh of relief, and finds himself thankful that it’s his daughter you seek comfort in. He’s thankful Sarah is able to provide that for you, even if he can’t.

Because he can’t.

When you leave after promising Sarah you’ll let her know when you’re back to your dorm, safe and sound, she returns to the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest.

Joel can feel the irritation, the disappointment. Sarah goes up to her room and slams the door, and Joel feels the reverberation of the wood in every disc of his spine.

He sits there, in the deafening silence, and wonders where the hell he went wrong. He wonders why doing the selfless thing feels so awful, wonders if he’s destined to live an empty life and die an empty death.

It isn’t until three hours later that Joel gets up from the kitchen table. It’s after midnight, and he drags his weary body upstairs. He has every intention of crawling into bed and slipping into a peaceful oblivion for as long as his body will allow.

Except, Joel finds himself hovering in the hallway just outside his bedroom. He’s afraid to move, because if he walks through the door he’ll never be able to go back. He knows it, can feel the truth of it in his bones. But if he doesn’t…if he doesn’t, everything changes. And it might turn out bad—it might end up being the biggest, most selfish mistake of his life.

But one aching, terrifying thought nags at him; what if it doesn’t?

“Joel?”

It’s as clear a sign from the universe as he’s ever seen. He makes his decision, and begins to feel at home within his own body after feeling so displaced for so long, and Joel’s so grateful for it. He’s even more grateful he never moved the spare key from under the welcome mat.

This feels familiar. It feels like an echo of a time years ago, when he thought he ached for you but had no clue how deep his longing would one day be, a time when the scent of vanilla perfume wasn't a shock to his heart. It feels like an opportunity to do things right. It feels like a second chance.

And he’s not going to fucking waste it.

It’s his turn to confess his mistakes, though they’re not tequila induced and instead made completely of his own stupidity.

“I just came to get my phone charger from Sarah,” you say. “I’ll just be a sec—”

“I mean it,” he blurts, swallowing his nerves. He repeats it again, clearer and more precise because it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. “I mean it.”

You wringing your hands around one another in front of you. And he can sense the buzzing of nervous energy, and even though you both know exactly what he means you still ask timidly, “Mean what?”

His heart is pounding in his ears. “All of it. Everything. You might not see it, Sarah might not see it, but you…you deserve better than anything I can ever give you,” he says. “I’m old and I’m tired and I don’t have anything but this house to my name. I can’t give you anything you can’t find a better version of after ten seconds of looking.”

“Joel…I—”

“Hold on. I need you to hear me right now, baby, okay?” His hands are shaking. When you nod, he continues. “I mean it when I say I’m no good for you. I never have been. I’ll just drag you down and hold you back from better things. All of that is true. You and I both know it, but god dammit, I mean it when I say I love you, too. I love your laugh and I love your smile and I love your heart. I love everything about you, and it makes me an awful person because I’m not supposed to feel those things for a girl half my age. But I do, I do—and fuck, baby, I know I’m a bad man, but I’m…I’m yours.”

The words are out. He’s said them, and there’s no going back. Everything he’s held inside for so long is sitting on the floor between you—the entirety of Joel’s perverted heart. Your eyes are glassy, and you're breathing slowly like it’s suddenly a task, but you’re saying nothing and he starts to fill with fear.

Joel is seconds away from begging you to say something, to say anything—but then you’re there, you’re there, in his arms with your hands in his hair and your lips against his. Your body slots perfectly against him, and Joel thinks that if this is his greatest sin then God can cast him out of the heavens for all eternity and he’d say thank you on his knees.

Your tongue is so soft, and Joel bites at your bottom lip, savoring the sweet and sugary taste of cherry. He lets his hands roam down your back, allows himself to grab hold of your curves and squeeze the supple flesh. Nothing has ever felt this good, he thinks. You pull away first, and you’re panting hard, and you whisper, “Prove it. Show me, Joel. Show me how much you love me.”

It’s the easiest request he’s ever wanted to fulfill. He grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He uses one hand on the small of your back to hold you close, to press his lips to yours again, to moan into your mouth. He uses the other to open his bedroom door, the prospect of closing it behind him much less daunting now that your limbs are wrapped around his.

Joel lays you gently on the mattress, and straightens his spine to look at you. He soaks it up, memorizes the sight of your hair splayed out around you, your thighs parted for him, the pink flush on your chest. Nothing has ever been so beautiful, he thinks. Nothing and no one will ever, ever compare to you. He sighs blithely, licks his lips and says, “Fuck, baby.”

Through a soft giggle you ask, “Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”

He pulls the collar of his shirt over his head and discards the fabric on the floor, leaving him in nothing but his jeans. He crawls between your legs and leans on his elbows, placing them on either side of your head. “Yes,” Joel says, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “I think you’re the prettiest.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek. “D’you wanna know what else I think?”

You can feel him smirk against your skin as you run your hands along the cords of taut muscle in his abdomen. “Yes,” you answer breathlessly, resisting the urge to lift your pelvis against his. “Tell me everything.”

Joel obliges. He kisses the tip of your nose. “I think you were made for me.” His kisses grow hotter, wetter, as his mouth graces your jaw, your neck. “I think I’ve loved you since you were eighteen, since the first moment I saw you.” He tugs at the seam of your t-shirt, and you lift your spine slightly so he can pull it off. You’re not wearing a bra, and seeing you bare again after so long makes his mouth water.

He kisses your sternum, the soft tissue of your breast, and then sucks your nipple between his lips. He doesn’t realize until now how much he craves the taste of you—how much he’s missed it.

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day, baby,” he says, pressing his mouth to your other nipple. He can feel the vibration of your laughter in his mouth, and his heart constricts at the sudden happiness it brings him.

“Marry me?” Your hands are in his hair, giving him the slightest direction in the form of light pressure, and Joel is all too happy to follow it. But he does it slowly, giving himself enough time to drink you in.

“Mmhm,” he says, peppering kisses down your belly, across the plane between your hips. He hooks his finger into the waistband of your sleep shorts and pulls them down your hips. “I think I’ve wasted enough of our time. Don’t you?” Gently, he runs his fingertips over your panties. They’re pink, of course, with red polka dots—and Joel groans at the sight. It’s a ghostly touch, but enough to pull a strained gasp from your throat. Your hips buck towards his hand, and Joel reminds himself to take his time even though his cock is throbbing painfully in his jeans and every instinct in him begs to ravish you.

“Yes,” you agree. “But…maybe we go slow.”

There’s a slight hint of unease in your voice, and Joel rushes to fix it. He reaches up and wraps his big hands around your ribcage, stroking the skin softly with his thumbs. He presses a kiss to your panties, right above your clit, and says, “Relax, baby. I don’t mean right now. Soon though, yeah?”

Your body loosens beneath his touch, and a pretty smile breaks out across your face. “Soon,” you breathe. “But right now, I need you to touch me. Please, Joel.

The sound of desperation in your mouth is so pretty, he thinks. And you deserve anything you want, and Joel intends to give it to you. He pulls your panties down your legs, pushes your thighs apart, and keeps his eyes trained on yours as he slides his tongue through your slit. You’re so wet, and the sound you make in response to the feel of his hot, wet tongue is the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard. He licks and sucks at your clit until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. And when your breaths turn shorter and more labored, Joel slips two fingers inside you and curls them to meet the sweet spot that makes you writhe.

One hand is in his hair, pulling at the strands desperately, while your other is twisted in the sheets. In his sheets. Joel can’t keep his hips from rolling against the side of the mattress at the sight of you, at the taste of you, at the feel of you in his hands. Because you’re here, in his bed, and he can taste your cum in his mouth, and fuck he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts.

When your body falls limp, only then does he come up for air. He cleans you up with his tongue, not wasting any of the sweet nectar you’ve cleansed his sins with. Joel stands up slowly, raking his nails across your sensitive flesh. “Does that prove my love, pretty girl?”

He can see the wicked gleam in your eye, and he knows it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not. You prop yourself up on your elbows and confess timidly, “Maybe I need a little more,” you say. “Some more proof.”

Joel unbottons his jeans. “Hmm, I guess I should’ve known better.” He pulls the denim off and kicks it aside, delighting in the slight parting of your lips as you take in his cock, heavy and hard between his legs. “Slutty little girls always need more, don’t they?”

You nod, and Joel returns to his rightful spot between your legs. He’s so close—so, so close to home, to resting his weary heart…but your body is his confessional, and Joel isn’t done repenting.

He rests his calloused palm against your throat gently, a caress. “You wanna know what else I think about?”

You’re squirming beneath him, hips lifting desperately. “Please, Joel,” you beg.

And he knows you’re not begging for his thoughts, but he gives them to you anyway. “I think about putting a baby in you,” he confesses, laying his free hand flat against your abdomen. He smirks when you let out a shallow breath and your hips start to move faster, seeking him out.

“Oh—God, fuck,” you whimper.

“Aw, I’ve hardly touched you yet,” he teases through a soft laugh, drawing his fingers against your ribcage delicately. “You like that idea? Hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum ‘til your belly’s swollen with my baby?”

You’re nodding, and he can feel your quickened pulse beneath his hand, and Joel decides he’s put you through enough. “Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please please please.”

He reaches down and guides his cock into you, and your pussy takes him so eagerly that he can’t help but mirror your low moan. “Fuck, baby—you feel so good,” he murmurs.

Slowly, he rolls his hips against yours. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your arms are around his neck, and he kisses your bruised lips until all the air has left your lungs. “Oh, God—!”

“Shh,” he coos, moving his hand around your neck and instead using it to grasp your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me. Quiet now, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are glassy and wide and beautiful, and Joel picks up his pace. His cock slams into you, filling you up, and it’s impossible to keep quiet. “I can’t,” you whine. “I can’t, Joel—it feels too good, it’s too much, I—!”

He kisses you hard, swallowing up your cry of bliss when he reaches down to circle your clit with the pad of his middle finger. “I know, baby, I know,” he soothes. “It’s okay, you can take it.”

The prettiest sounds are falling from your mouth with each deep thrust of his hips, sending shivers down his spine. Joel wishes he could be here, be inside of you forever. He wonders how he’s ever going to get his fill, wonders if it’s even possible. You’re so fucking perfect and you’re his and God—he wants to eat you the fuck up.

He can feel your pussy constrict around him, and he lets out a probably-too-loud-moan that mirrors yours in response. He knows you're close, can feel the rush of heat, can feel you tremble around him. “You gonna cum for me? Hm?”

Joel slams into you relentlessly, obscene sounds filling the space of his room. Your second orgasm is impossibly stronger, sending electricity dancing across your skin.

You open your mouth to tell him, but Joel seems to know your body better than you do and before the words are out of your mouth he’s whispering in your ear. “There you go,” he says. “I love you so fuckin’ much baby, my good little girl. Give it to me. Thaaat’s it.”

His hips slow just slightly as you come down, but his thrusts are no less punishing. You press kisses to his collarbone, his neck, his chin—every place you can reach. Your mouth is desperate and needy and shameless, and there’s no better sin than the divinity of your lips, he thinks.

Joel’s pace falters and becomes frantic, and he groans into the crook of your neck as he fills you up. You whisper, “I love you, Joel,” and it does him in completely.

He collapses on top of you, unable to move, but you don’t seem to mind. You stroke his spine lazily, tracing soft patterns into his flushed skin. He could sleep just like this, he thinks—but it can’t be as comfortable for you. So he pulls himself out of you wistfully and helps you crawl under the blankets.

With a blissful sigh, he pulls you close and holds you against his chest.

“What now?”

Joel doesn’t know, if he’s honest. He knows he wants you, knows he has you, knows he’s unable to go on without you by his side any longer. But the rest? It’s all uncharted territory. “You go back to school,” he says. “You only have a few months left. Get that fancy degree of yours.”

You let out a soft groan. “I have to leave in the morning. I promised.”

He should feel bad for your boyfriend, most likely sleeping in the spare bedroom in your dad’s house that Joel just refurbished two months ago, but he doesn’t. There’s not an ounce of sympathy for him. But he does have sympathy for you, which is why he asks, “You want me to take care of it?”

“Like you did earlier tonight?” You snort, and the sound is light and airy and carefree and Joel is so happy to hear it. “No, I got it.”

“You gonna break up with him?”

“Mm. Haven’t decided yet,” you say. The sarcasm is thick in your tone, but Joel can’t help the slight panic that erupts in his chest. But the second you notice he isn’t laughing with you, you quickly amend, “I’m kidding. Of course I’m going to. First thing, okay? I promise.”

He nods and kisses your temple. “Okay. And while you’re gone, I’ll talk to your dad.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow. “Alone?”

“I’ll probably use Tommy as a buffer,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to deal with it. He’s going to be upset with me—not with you. You’re not the bad guy here.”

“I don’t think you are either, Joel,” you say.

But he doesn’t agree. And he never will, no matter how many sweet words and even sweeter touches you offer. “I’ll take care of it.”

You lay your head back on his chest, and his panic eases until it withers away into nothing. “Okay,” you say. “And…and after? After I finish school, will you still be here?”

Joel can sense the hesitation in your voice, can feel the sudden rigidity in your limbs. He caresses your face and promises, “Yes, baby. I’ll be here.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

He’s not sure what he expects your answer to be, but he definitely doesn’t expect the stab to the chest when you say, “Whenever I leave, you change your mind about me. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“Look at me,” he says. When you do, his eyes are molten with affection. “I will be here,” he repeats. “I will be here, and I will still love you. Do you understand me?”

You nod let out a long, sleepy breath. “Good.”

That night, Joel sleeps better than he has in years. So much so that he’s up before you, and this time it’s his turn to make the pancakes. He doesn’t do nearly as good as you, burning half of them and undercooking the other half, but he doesn’t worry about it because he realizes he has so much time to perfect it. Time he never had before.

You pad barefoot down the stairs wearing your sleep shorts and the t-shirt he discarded last night. Joel wonders if he’ll ever grow tired of seeing you in his clothes.

When you notice Sarah and Tommy sitting at the kitchen table with plates pooled with syrup, your eyes widen and your cheeks grow crimson. “Uhm—morning,” you murmur, sliding into the seat at Sarah’s side.

“Morning,” Joel responds, sitting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “Coffee or orange juice?”

“Uhm…orange juice,” you reply timidly.

Joel pours you a glass, and joins you at the table, and doesn’t know how to break the weird silence that’s settled over the room.

Thankfully, though—his daughter volunteers to do just that. “It’s gonna take me a second to get used to this,” she says. “And I will, I swear—but I’m just telling you now that I’m never gonna call you mom.”

Laughter breaks out in the kitchen, and the smile on your face brings Joel so much joy he can hardly contain himself.

“That would be so weird,” you say. “God—could you imagine?”

“Fuck that—can you imagine living together, dude? It’s going to be amazing! I’ll always have someone to hang out with. Plus I won’t be the only one in this house with decent film taste anymore,” Sarah says.

“Don’t you dare throw me in with this guy,” Tommy says, pointing a finger at Joel from across the table.

“No, no—you like terrible movies too,” you argue.

It sparks a heated debate, and pancakes get flicked from a fork across the table, and there’s a giant mess to clean up afterwards, but Joel Miller has never been so content, so at peace, so happy.

When you take your little boyfriend back to the city, Joel reminds you to call him if you need anything. He uses the opportunity of your absence to do the scariest thing of his life.

He’s playing a game of pool in your dad’s garage, and Tommy is leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, and Joel decides there’s no time like the present. “I have to tell you something,” he says.

Your dad doesn’t look up at him. He lines up his cue and lets out a heavy sigh that sounds so similar to the ones of your frustration that it’s startling. “This about my daughter?”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look of uncertainty. “Uh—yeah,” Joel prods carefully. “Yeah, it is.” He doesn’t know where to begin, so he decides to only say what he needs to say, to say it firmly and without room for question. “I’m, uh—I’m in love with her. And after she graduates she’ll be coming home and we’re…we’re going to be together.”

He doesn’t say anything and at first, it unnerves Joel. He simply draws his cue back, shoots, and waits until the ball falls perfectly into the table’s pocket. He calmly lays his cue at his side, picks up the black eight ball from the table, and chucks it at Joel’s head.

It misses him by an inch, and something shatters behind him, but Joel is too busy running from your father to look back and assess the damage.

“You motherfucker! I should kill you! That’s my fucking kid—!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tommy is stepping between them, shoving your dad back. “Just hear him out, man! It’s not what you think!”

A warmth erupts in Joel’s chest to hear his brother’s words, to hear him defend his atrocities so easily. Joel knows exactly what thoughts are going through your fathers head, because they went through Joel’s first. He knows it looks like he’s just an old man trying to get his rocks off with the first pretty, young thing that ever looks his way, and maybe there’s some truth to that, but it’s also so, so much more. Still, Joel has a daughter, too, so he understands. “I swear I love her,” he says as if it’s some sort of consolation. “I really do.”

The vein in your dad’s temple protrudes as he shoves past Tommy and gets in one good punch, splitting the skin of Joel’s cheek. “Get the fuck out! Get out of my house before I break your fucking jaw!”

Joel listens. He slips through the half-opened garage door and goes home, adrenaline coursing through him. There wasn’t a lot of blood, and he considers that a win. He cleans out the cut on his cheek, orders a pizza, calls you to tell you how it went. You’re angry at first, when he tells you about his small injury, but Joel assures you that it’s the least he deserves. He says he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d be coming home to him.

Tommy comes through the door a couple hours later with a weary look on his face. He flops down on the couch beside his brother, grabs a slice of cold peperoni pizza and says, “Fuck you for that, by the way.”

“How is he?”

“Fine for now. I think he’ll come around. Just give him a bit of time.”

They polish off the pizza, Tommy crashes on the couch, and Joel sleeps well with the scent of vanilla still lingering in his sheets. Several days later, he’s mowing the front yard with his t-shirt tucked into his back pocket when your dad gets home from work.

When he crosses the yard and approaches him, Joel turns off the mower and prepares himself for another swing. Except, your dad only raises a hand and says, “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to see it. We’re neighbors, Joel—keep the fucking windows closed or so help me God.”

“Done,” he agrees quickly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“And I swear to Christ, if you break her heart—”

“I won’t.” It’s the truth, and Joel thinks your dad knows it, too. He shakes his head and says it again, firmer this time. “I won’t.”

There’s a second of silence, and it’s thick and heavy while your dad debates on whether he should hurt Joel again just for good measure. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “There’s a Longhorns game tonight. Tommy’s coming. You can…you know, you’re welcome to come too.”

“I’ll be there,” Joel promises.

It takes a few weeks, but the comfortable energy between the three men returns, and one night your father even tells Joel, “Better you than that asshole she brought home for spring break. Kid was a cunt.”

Joel agrees, and all that’s left for him to do is wait for you. It’s only a few months until graduation, but it feels like a lifetime when he’s wasted so many years already. He calls you every night and his thoughts never stray far and for a little while, it’s enough.

He busies himself by finishing the renovations in your dad’s house, and then turns to his own to do the same.

Joel starts with the kitchen, painting the cabinets and switching out the hardware. He clears out half of his closet for you, buys pink hangers to sit beside his black ones, buys a two pack of toothbrushes and sticks yours in the cup on the sink right next to his. Your dad offers to help when Joel says he wants to build a deck for the backyard, and they use Tommy’s truck to bring home new lawn chairs that recline so you can tan in those tiny bikinis comfortably.

He puts cherry chapstick on your nightstand. He buys pancake mix and orange juice and a bottle of top shelf tequila. And when you finally graduate and walk across the stage to receive your fancy degree, Joel is the second loudest person in the crowd. (The first is Sarah, who greets you with a flower bouquet bigger than your head.)

When you finally, finally come home to him, your eyes turn glassy when you discover what he’s spent his time doing in your absence. You say, thank you, Joel and throw your arms around his neck and drown him in kisses and he feels religion stir in his chest.

He asks you later that night what your favorite thing is, asks you whether it’s the deck or the tequila or the pink hangers. Your favorite part is him, of course it’s him, but you say instead that it’s the remodel in the kitchen.

The backsplash is sage green.

[masterlist]

divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

a/n; i seriously cannot thank you guys enough for the unending support on this, i love you all so much <3

taglist; @aamatis-blog1 @goldenispunk @storytimeblog @locaparapedrito @bluesweaters15 @ace-27749 @joelmillerlover123 @shivkillian @bbyplutosblog @tiredbuthappy @samsamsantos @elegantduckturtle @pinkiec6-rubi @pascaltesfaye @pedropascalsbbg @heheheilovepedro

#ao3 fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel tlou #pearlessance #ao3 writer #joel the last of us #jealousy #joel miller self insert #dbf!joel #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #age difference #light angst #angst #our little secret

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complete-clownery · 9 months

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Hahaha okay rant about this amazing fanfic (you probably heard of this one already but still)

So whenever it comes to explaining and writing under my posts I just get lazy but I need to push through this cuz I need to talk

So the fanarts were made for the lmk fanfiction sunbreak, that a lot of you (probably mostly shadowpeach shippers) had read, and it is amazing, I read trough it as fast as my brain let me and as you can see it has pleasantly scratched my brain so much so that I even (attempted) to make fanart for it

Ngl if I wasn't a major pussy I would try to illustrate the whole thing or make covers for each chapter but Im unable to work on something more than 2 hours and I would want those to look good, but good looking art (if I don't mess up) takes 6 hours ughh--- annoying much---

Anyways I'm not good with literature but man is this fix a masterpiece *chefs kiss* its everything its amazing, I was unable to put it down once I started it

Okay i dont think I have the brain capacity to explain how much I worship the writer of this masterpiece @ladygreenfrisbee , so i'm just going to talk about the drawings a tad

So first picture with Red Son and MK its sort of like an au in the fic where the whole lbd plot is somehow nonexistent and after Macaque gets to his sisters domain they settle down and raise the kids together without much of an issue aside from assassinations keep happening and trying not to get in trouble with the heavens

Id like to think that Gongzhu still wouldn't let the court tailors to put any form of red or gold on MKs outfits and only allowed the yellow after when MK was old enough to declare that yellow was his favorite color, but even now she would insist on some form of purple and shadow motives to let others know who the mother is

We also got baby MK and toddler Red Son and sassy LIF and Mac

Third pic with the lion: I don't know what it was or why but I just love general Song so much--- he's a major dickhead but sgvshshsevkdididhr (actually I kinda love all the original characters in this one, from the generals to the old lady in the beginning of the book, (gosh I also wanna draw some scenes from those chapters I loved how Mac and she interacted hshsjsj))

so chapter 34 was probably my favorite so far I re read it about two more times cuz it was amazing to see Macaque being the schemer he is and try to piss of Song lol

Last picture: its a sketch/a wip or whatever (probably not going to finish it but im still putting it there cuz its somewhat decent looking)

Its the part where Wukong remembered of Macaque finally finding him and asking for him to come back to flower fruit mountain.

I tried to make Macaque look more unhinged on this one but since I didn't finish it I dont think its that noticable so fuck that but I also gave him a halo like the saints to symbolise his suffering and what not (thought it looked cool and fitting think whatever you want about it lol)

And that all ((((hollly mother))))

If you read this trough, thank you and congrats👏👏

#clown does art #lego monkey kid #lmk sunbreak #sunbreak #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk mk #lmk red son #fanfiction #lmk #lmk pif #princess iron fan

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catiuskaa · 2 months

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feat. mrs. lee bahng

SUMMARY: why have a plot when your two gorgeous boys are finally having a short break before the comeback? y’all already know what to do.

WC: 0.6k

CW: lowercase! [NASTY SMUT] make sure to hide the bible if god watching. like, wash your hands after reading kind of nasty. man, i’m so ovulating right now.

REQ! by 🧋anonnie right here. omg. yes. just yes. no questions asked or needed, i gotchu.

[🔶 ★🎇★ 🔶]

one of them is kissing your neck, but with your eyes closed, you don’t bring yourself to guess just yet, just shiver, whimpering, before being able to feel the shape of his plush lips against your pulse.

“such a pretty princess,” chan whispers, his hands moving your hair off your face.

he had been wearing lipstick when he arrived home with minho after their last photoshoot of the day, which makes him chuckle, because neither of them can be too sure the makeup is still on.

actually, scratch that. minho licks his lips, bending to pepper kisses all over your stomach. if there was any lipstick still on his lips, he’s 100% sure its shimmer would look a hundred times better against your nude skin.

there’s a gasp the younger man holds back, a tremble in his voice when, even after making you reach the stars with his tongue, he still won’t fit.

“s-so… t-tight.”

you know that tensing up is about the worst thing you should do, and you try ignoring the awkward, stingy feeling that shoots through you when minho barely attempts to settle himself where you know he belongs.

luckily, chan’s there, leaving sweet kisses and teasing licks here and there, his hand traveling down to your clit, pressing figure eights and snickering to his hearts content at the sighs that come out of your mouth when specks of that yummy feeling slyly start seeping through.

“mmm, baby… such a champion,” he’s teasing, his teeth biting your cheek. your sweat tastes sweet, much like the champagne he had back at the studio with the boys, the day before the album came out.

both him and minho went back home smirking, knowing that the real celebration was waiting for them at home.

“takes cock so well… shit…”

minho can’t even dare to speak, a small part of him that doesn’g want to hurt you, and the other one that just knows that he’s a blink away from bliss.

“such a tight cunt, fuck.”

at his struggle, chan can’t help but snicker. you just pant, and take minho’s hand, kissing his palm before turning to chan and resting your other hand on his cheek.

“baby,” you sigh. his dimples smile at you, and he pecks your lips.

“it's okay, princess,” chan coos at you sweetly. “don't worry, mhh? min'll make it fit. make you feel really good, yeah?”

his lips can’t fathom leaving your skin, pecking, nibbling, kissing anywhere he can reach.

minho pushes further into you, and you whine, your eyes tearing up lightly, the tears not daring to fall down your cheeks after facing chan’s lips, kissing them away.

“so warm and tight.” minho is oozing in a comfy hornyness, lying against you, his body almost melting over yours, his hands hugging your waist, lips licking and nibbling on your nipples playfully.

“colour, baby?” chan whispers to your ear. there’s no agreement to decide whether today’s about fucking or about making love, but his sweet marks on your neck, as well as the ones minho leaves on your cleaverage are always welcomed.

“green, pretty,” you smile, playing with his hair as you bit your lip, moaning at minho’s antics. “so green. greenest.”

it seems like your answer made him regain his stamina, because you can feel him twich as he licks and kisses down to your stomach. in a harsh manner he takes chan by his neck and plants a hard kiss on his lips. then, his nose rubs against yours, and he bites your lip cheekily, smirking down at you.

“gonna make sure you remember tonight until we come back from tour.”

seems like today isn’t either love nor fucking, because why choose if, ultimately, you can do both?

[🔶 ★🎇★ 🔶]

~kats, who has spent at least two hours thirsting over the album’s pics.

catiuskaa, july 2024 ©

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teddybeartoji · 5 months

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how cute would satoru look while helping you dye your hair:((( he's soooo focused, trying to part your hair perfectly so he can dye it perfectly.

laughing behind your hand, he locks eyes with you through the mirror and your heart stutters just a little. he has the little brush in between his teeth and colorful blotches adorn his skin. his freckles are painted in your new color and you're really matching with him now. he splutters out a what when you keep quiet while just staring at him with hearts in your eyes.

"nothing." you shake your head, dismissing his question with a smile.

he furrows his brows so cutely that you have to surpress the need to tickle him to death. but then his eyes crinkle at the corners and he's grabbing the brush from his lips.

"am i doing good?"

it's a whisper. he's a little scared to fuck it up but he keeps the concern to himself. he's more than a little scared – he's terrified actually. he doesn't even want to imagine the look on your face if he did it wrong. you know he won't though. he's your perfect boy.

"you're doing so, so good."

pink floods his face in an overwhelming wave. he freezes. he looks like a cartoon character, who's just been hit with a cupid's arrow. his heart thumps in his chest, trying to break free from behind his ribs – it longs to be in your hands instead. another laugh tumbles from you, breaking his little love bubble. he watches you tilt your head back through the mirror before letting his eyes fall down to meet your gaze without any restrictions, without any barriers.

you're upside down and you look beautiful. there's hair dye on your forehead and even a smidge on your nose (but he swears that he doesn't know how that got there). he doesn't mind when you rest your head against his lower tummy, staining a few of his happy trail's hair with your color.

matching. matching. matching.

his hands rise to cradle your face and he's so gentle, he's so delicate. the strongest man and his precious beloved. his lips stretch into a loving smile; dimples appear on his flushed cheeks and you reach out to poke at one of them with your finger. skin to skin, you rest against him.

and then he bites your finger, making you squeal in surprise. but he doesn't let you pull away, not even an inch. his hands are steady on your cheeks, holding you to him as he laughs at your big lovesick eyes.

"apologize. right now."

demanding – you look like a cute little kitten in his eyes. "i tell you that you're doing good and this is how you repay me. wow."

he loves it when you roll your eyes at him, he loves it when you fakingly try to bite his head off. he doesn't waste any time in leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a soft backwards kiss. he can feel the wet hair dye on his skin, he can feel you on his skin. your fingers crawl over the side of his face, over his warm ears and scratch at his prickly undercut. he tastes like bubblegum, almost overbearingly sweet; he tastes like unyielding adoration.

he giggles into your mouth like a schoolboy – you just make him so giddy and so happy and so excited, he can't help it. he pulls away just an inch before pressing another kiss to your lips. and another. and another. he never fails to bring out the most cheerful, the brightest laughs out of you – it's his job after all.

he hovers above your lips and you breathe him in. "am i actually doing okay?"

your eyes are closed and so are his. a sweet moment between lovers – he wants your praise, he wants your blind reassurance and you will give him just that without a second thought.

"you're perfect."

satoru's lips graze against yours one last time before pulling away. he does it just enough to get a good look at you – his sweetheart, his everything. he'd do anything for you and he hopes that you truly know it. he'd let the world burn and he's thinking about doing so while simply dyeing your hair. he's whipped. he's in love.

he presses another kiss on the top of your nose and then another to your forehead, mumbling an i love you inbetween the simple acts of affection. he needs you to feel it, to know it—

— but luckily, the way you're staring up at him tells him that you do and he couldn't be any happier.

#SOFT!SATORUUUUUU MY BABY BOYYYYY #forgot to put tags hello #oops #angel boy #gojo #gojo fluff #wtf mickey can write #gojo drabble #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #bf!gojo #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo

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rinhaler · 5 months

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Don’t You Love It When I Come Around?

Your relationship with him is so toxic. But no matter how hard you try to end things, he always worms his way back between your legs.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ takuma ino x f!reader

Genre: porn! with a plot! Notes: in january i told u guys to send ino prompts and i would write my favourite and here it is, I'll add the ask below ! Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, dubcon (he's high), toxic relationship, exes to lovers?, rich boy!ino, dacryphilia, pussy eating ♡, light nipple play, vaginal sex, love making ♡, drool ♡, praise, slight orgasm denial, scratching, creampie ♡, manipulation, calls your pussy she/her, pet names (princess, baby/babe, gorgeous etc.) Words: 4.6k

He loves you.

He wouldn’t keep coming back to you with such urgency and wanton if he didn’t love you so ardently. But you ended things, and for the first time there was some finality to the breakup. You’re weak with your will and conviction, usually. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t.

Being second best to every other thing is his life is too hard.

His friends, his family.

Drugs.

You want to be his top priority, but you never will be. It weighs heavy in your heart whenever you’re with him, you don’t feel the type of love you want to feel from him. The kind where you know he’d kiss the ground you walk on and worship your very existence.

Fairy tale love, romance movie love.

He isn’t capable. And it’s taken you too long to realise it.

And usually, you crumble when he begs. His pleas and promises to change always sway you into believing him, despite knowing the truth that he’ll never change for you. He thinks money carries the same weight as love. He thinks his daddy’s credit card is the answer to all of his problems.

He wants to believe you can be bought.

He truly believes that he can buy your subservience with the same unearned money he uses to pay his dealer in fat wads of cash.

The day you met his dealer is the day you think things really began to fall apart between you. He wouldn’t refrain from making lewd comments about you, a fact that has stopped you from going with him to pick up since that first encounter. Your boyfriend didn’t chastise him, no. Instead, he played along. Joking that he’d be willing to share during your most intimate moments or even give you up completely to use as a payment instead of actually paying.

You broke up with him that night, leaving him alone with his friend. He didn’t even bother chasing after you to apologise. He didn’t care enough to check if you were okay, either. It hurt you to think that he was laughing it off with Sukuna, imagining him so nonchalant and uncaring broke your heart.

And you’re lucky you didn’t have to see that you were exactly right.

You can’t even remember why you forgave him that time, it should have been the final straw. He came over, sneaking into your window after your parents turned in for the night. It’s like he’d been waiting for all of the lights to go out. He lifted it, effortlessly, before he stepped inside. He hushed your protests and panic as you worried your parents would hear and before you knew it, he was your boyfriend again.

You jolt from your thoughts as you hear a struggle to your left. Your eyes linger on the window as you notice Takuma try his hardest to lift it open. He looks up and sees you staring, and you recognise something akin to fear sprawled across his pretty face.

He can’t remember the last time you locked the window.

“Baby, please.” he whispers. You shush him, determined to be strong as you approach the window and look at him sternly.

It’s the first time in over a week since you’ve laid eyes on each other, it should have been harder than it was. But you’ve had plenty of practice from when he goes on drink and drug infused benders and doesn’t even bother to send a measly text to let you know he’s alive.

Your fists clench tightly as you hold your parted curtains, though your will begins to dissipate as you see his soft brown stare up at you so pathetically. It feels like love. Maybe one more chance wouldn’t—

“Let me in, baby, ‘m so cold.” he tells you, squatting awkwardly on the roof as he tries to convince you to see things his way. Your blood begins to boil again as you remember how fucking entitled is. Entitled in life and entitled to you. Not this time. “I think it’s gonna—” the metal curtain pole hisses as you abruptly shut them and shut him out of your life for good.

“Go home, Takuma…” you sigh, your own purposiveness decaying as your body seems to crave him, you want to help him, despite knowing you’re being manipulated.

“Oh come on. Don’t do this, princess. It’s starting to rain!” he tells you.

You can’t listen to him. You grab your headphones from your desk and put them over your ears. You quickly scroll through your music library until you find your feel-good playlist and turn the volume to max. Sure you might go deaf in a few years, but it’s better than listening to him do all he can to get you to let him in.

The paranoia of not knowing what he’s doing or saying out there pricks at your skin like needles. Your senses are sharp despite cancelling one of them out. You begin to hear creaks of the window and calls of your name you’re certain you can’t be hearing. Your dad will come to berate you and him if he gets too rowdy. He wouldn’t risk it.

INO: Gonna start singing if you don’t let me in 💕

You learn forward in your seat as you read his message. He’s bluffing, he has to be. And yet, it scares you enough to pull your headphones down while your music continues to play through them. His knuckles are rapping against the window repeatedly without stopping as he waits for you to reply. He gives you a few minutes before the knocking stops, and while you hope he’s given up, you look down at your messages to see three dreaded dots appear.

INO: You’re so cute when you’re mad

INO: What song should I sing?

You freeze as you hear him hum, even over the sound of the rain pelting down against the roof shingles and the glass of your window. It’s a song you recognise instantly, the first song you danced to together when you met at a club two years ago.

“Come on baby, let me iiiiin~!” he speak-sings in tune with the beat and you know it’s only going to get worse. You try to hold strong, you do. The thought of giving him the satisfaction and ultimately the gateway to him winning you back makes your stomach churn, you don’t want to keep being this girl.

But you’ve always been weak when it comes to him.

The shriek of your curtains opening again puts a swift end to Takuma’s singing. His face lights up, and it makes you even angrier. He watches you intently as you unlock the window for him, but you step away to allow him the honour of opening it for himself.

“Shit baby, I’m soaked. Why didn’t you let me in sooner?” he asks, he wrings out his beanie on your bedroom carpet before tossing it aside completely. You roll your eyes as he shuts the window and begins to undress. “C’moooon, you’re not really giving me the silent treatment, are ya?”

You sigh and sit on your bed, carefully taking off your headphones and tucking them back into their protective casing. He barely even looks at you as you tuck your knees up to your chest and observe his every move.

“What do you want Takuma…” you pout. “I told you I don’t wanna see you anymore. Why are you here?” you ask.

He kisses his teeth, the sound makes your skin pinch together and you suddenly feel the harsh chill of the outside breaking in. He smiles at you, his sweet innocent face and warm brown eyes are almost enough to thaw you out.

“You didn’t really mean that, did ya?” he wonders. “Baby, I love you.” he kicks off his shoes and begins to undress. The audaciousness of him is never lost on you, but tonight he’s really something. He sits on the edge of your bed, his back facing you while he moves at a glacial pace.

He’s high. It’s obvious.

The sculptured muscles of his back flex and ripple as he takes off his socks, flinging them without a care in any direction before he stands up to look at you. You swallow, hard, as the buckle of his belt begins to clink before he pulls it out of the belt loops with one hand. Your eyes stay fixed on his as his arm extends and he lets it fall from his grip.

“Bet you’ve missed this dick, baby,” he smirks. “Can see it in your eyes. You’ve missed me.”

You roll your eyes despite his words hitting a nerve. His vision drops as he unbuttons his jeans, missing the way you squirm as you reposition yourself on the bed, tucking your knees further into your chest as you continue to stare while he takes off his clothes.

“Why do you play these games, princess? You know you always come back to me.”

“It’s not a game. I’m done with you, for real this time.” you protest. The way he bites his lip makes you angrier as he climbs on the bed with you, the mattress dipping as he slowly crawls towards you like he has so many times before.

He thinks, he knows everything you say it futile, regardless of how determined you are to not succumb to him for the umpteenth time.

“Take this off, gorgeous,” he demands as his fingers curl into the elastic waistband of your pleated skirt. You shake your head lightly, heart battering in your chest like a drum solo. He snarls, at that, like he hears your heart fighting against your weak defiance. “Suit yourself.” he mutters.

His hands wrap around your thighs and he drags you down the length of the mattress. It takes everything within you not to scream, the thought of being caught by your parents like this makes your whole body sear with heat.

“I’m—” you squeak, a little too loudly. You clear your throat and look at him, your eyes shaking with apprehension and anxiety. He wets his lips as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not fucking you. N-Not tonight. Not ever. Never again, Takuma… I m-mean it. We’re through!”

He sighs, a little pout forming on his lips as he crawls over your body. He cages you beneath him, looking down at you with a moue of dissatisfaction.

“What about a kiss baby? Can I have a kiss, just one?” he asks. His voice is soft and shallow. His honeyed eyes make you crumble as he stares at you with an intensity you’ve never felt from him before. Is it desperation? Is it panic that he’s really losing his grip on you? You can’t even look at him directly, each turn of your head causes him to angle his own so he can continue to stare you down.

And it works.

“Just a kiss.” you mumble, your whole body relaxes when he smiles. It’s such a sweet smile, the one that always adorned his gentle face when you first met. You’ve missed it, dearly.

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips land on yours. It’s chaste, quick, and leaves you wanting more.

“One more kiss, baby. Please?”

You nod, closing your eyes again. You startle when you feel the mattress shift dramatically. Words stay lodged in your throat as you see him on the ground, on his knees, looking up at you between your legs.

“No panties? Must’a known I was coming.” he grins. He flips up the material only slightly. His head disappears beneath the black pleats.

It’s pathetic, truly, the whimper that flees from you when he presses a delicate kiss to your clit. You cover your mouth with your hand, and you even surprise yourself when you feel tears roll down your cheeks.

“Can I kiss her again, princess? Wanna make out with her… do you want me to?” he wonders, repeating the same kiss again… again… and again.

“Y-Yes, Takuma please.” you moan. Your fingers card through his brunette locks, urging him closer to your heat. He complies, desperately. He slowly swirls his tongue over your swollen clit, humming contently as he encourages you to rest your legs over his shoulders.

The pleasure overwhelms you, and you allow yourself to lie comfortably against the mattress. Deep down you knew, you both knew, you were always going to end up like this.

You look between the valley of your breasts when you regain your stability. The shape of his head makes your own begin to spin as you see the material of your skirt move in tandem with his actions. The way he slurps and suckles on your flesh makes it all too clear, you’ll never be able to quit him. Not really, not when he’s so perfect when he’s like this.

Maybe he does love you, maybe all of the things he tells you when you shut him out for so long are indeed true. How else would he be able to ravage you with such vigour and passion? The only time you know him to have drive and patience is in moments like this.

He’s spoilt, but not with you.

He’s a giver, only for you.

Your back arches from the bed when the tip of his tongue targets a particularly sensitive spot between your folds. You moan, you whine, and it only encourages him more. He doesn’t stop when your thighs begin to clamp around his head. It’s more fuel to the fire, you have to smother any and all sounds that want to escape from your body with your hand.

And that, he sees as a challenge.

He holds under the bend of your knee and pushes it, so gently, towards your chest. And still, you feel like the air has been knocked from your lungs. Your skirt is forcibly moved by the action and his face is revealed once more. His eyes glitter and shimmer with expectance and desire as he sees your own face contort from the pleasure he’s forcing upon you.

His lips suction around your clit and he sucks like it’s his sole purpose on earth. Your eyes roll back, and you practically scream into your palm. His hand wanders purposefully to cup your breast. He squeezes experimentally, rubbing his thumb over the material of your top to tease your peaked nipple. The feeling of that is almost enough to make you unravel, your hips jerk at the contact, and he decides to take it further.

He breaches the edge of your crop top, desperate to feel your soft naked mound. Your eyes fill with water and spill consistently as he adds rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger to the intense amalgamation of pleasure.

“Ino… fuck,” you whisper pathetically, freeing your mouth momentarily to utter his name. To warn him. “I’m gonna cum.”

“… I know.” he mumbles before maintaining his efforts. His tongue swipes quickly over your clit, you whimper and your toes can’t help but curl as he doesn’t dare let up.

You grip the sheets below, desperate to hang onto something as you feel your body seconds from exploding. He shushes you between licks, drooling over your cunt as his jaw hangs low for you. You do all you can to keep quiet, but it’s a gargantuan task. Especially when you haven’t felt so good for so long, it’s near impossible.

Your legs begin to quiver as you cum. Your pussy gushes and coats his face further. And for once in his life, he isn’t ungrateful. He savours the taste and laps at your folds like a starving man. And after such a long time apart, that’s exactly what he is. He’s ravenous, he’s missed this. He’s missed you. And he’ll never not appreciate how delicious you are. And it’s all for him.

“Made such a pretty mess for me, baby,” he murmurs into your skin, repeatedly planting delicate kisses against your inner thighs. He doesn’t stop as he gets on top of you, showering your stomach in the same soft kisses. Each one infused with his desire for you. His urgency to force you to remember who you belong to and who you need.

Your legs spread beautifully for him, his throbbing cock rubs against your core, dampening the material of his underwear.

His eyes fixate on yours as he looks for permission to kiss you. And you give it, instantly, humming when his lips slot against yours. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hips begin to rut into you as you make out.

You run your fingers through his hair, interlocking your fingers to keep him close as you continue humping against each other. He breathes heavily as he breaks the kiss, staring down at you with a hurt look in his eye.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him quietly. It makes your blood run cold, the fear of wondering if he’s about to go back to the regular Takuma again. The one you’re all too familiar with, The one that always lets you down.

“… Don’t like it when you call me Ino, baby,” he tells you. It’s earnest, a twinge of disappointment laced in his words.

“All of your friends call you Ino, Ino.” you repeat. It makes your heart race to defy him, you seldom do. You’re the perfect girlfriend until you can’t take anymore, but this is different. You’ve never felt bold enough to do this, to attempt to rile him up.

Never.

“Stop that.” he growls, kissing you again. “You’re not my friend. You’re my girlfriend, alright? Say it. Please.”

“I t-told you… I don’t want you back. Only let you in so you wouldn’t wake my parents.”

He stops. He stands on his knee and looks down at you with a little frown, his lower lip almost jutting as he hears you. You can’t tell if he’s actually sad, or if it’s merely panic. “Do you mean that? You don’t want me back?”

You shake your head, despite it being the opposite of what you want. It’s almost as if you’ve been possessed.

“… So you wouldn’t care if I left right now? You don’t want to fuck?” he continues. You can barely look at him, you’ve never seen him like this before. He might actually be upset, he’s experiencing regret for the first time in his entire life.

“Well… if you wanna go, I won’t stop you Takuma.” you shrug, it comes a little too easily. It feels like a dream, or a nightmare to Takuma. He can’t help but stare as he realises he’s lost his control of you.

A hand rests on your knee, while the other carefully rubs the lower half of his face. He wants to ask again. And again. Is that really what you want? But he’s terrified to even think it, let alone say it. Because what if you are sure? He won’t know what to do, he’s never known you to be like this before. Maybe he took too long to come over this time, he got cocky. Assumptions and greed consumed him. He came back to you when he was ready, but he hadn’t accounted for the fact you might grow a backbone in that time.

He lowers himself again, your noses barely touching before he kisses the tip of it.

“You love me, I know you do baby,” he says, faux confidence lingering in his tone. Though you don’t notice, to you, he’s just confident. The sound of tender kisses littering your cheeks is the loudest sound in the room, even louder than his desperate whispers. “You gotta love me… because I love you. So much, baby, please forgive me.”

He doesn’t let up, like he’s transferring a love potion embedded from his lips to seep into your skin. You mewl at the sensation, never knowing him to be this affectionate before. You know why, the agonising realisation that he lost you has him resorting to this last ditch effort.

And you hate him, because it’s working.

“I’ll always love you more than anyone, y’know. I promise. I’ll be better this time…” he tells you, the same sorry line he’s told you so many times before. “Can I put it in, babe? Please… Please let me feel you close one more time, if ya really mean it.” he begs. He moves his lips to yours, hoping to silence you with a kiss to remember. There’s a hunger to it, a desperate craving that he can’t satiate.

He needs your help.

He needs you.

“L-Last time, okay? I mean it, Takuma, I won’t take you back.”

He stopped listening to you after he heard you agree, honestly. Reaching down to pull his boxers just enough for his cock to spring free. He moans, it’s akin to a whine as it slaps against his abdomen. He’s been hard since he got that first kiss from you, and tasting your slick made him ache for you.

He jerks himself a few times before he slips himself inside of your cunt. His cockhead resting carefully in your entrance. His body moves closer to yours as he sinks in further, you both moan in tandem as you stretch and swallow his cock oh so gloriously.

“S-See, baby? See how perfect I fit? ‘Cause you love me so much, and I love you.” he explains gently holding your jaw in his grip so he can force you to look at him. His hips begin to roll, but he can’t let you enjoy it. Your attempt to throw your head back in pleasure with your eyes scrunched closed is thwarted as his hips instantly slow. “You gotta say it. Say it back, princess.”

“I love you, Takuma…” you say, defeated. “You know I’ll always love y-you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles widely, moving his hips once more. “Always gonna be mine?”

“… always.” you nod.

He kisses you again, his body weight almost suffocating you as he rests on top of you. He fucks every ounce of passion and longing into you. He covers your mouth, sensing it’s too much. But he can’t stop. You don’t want him to, you’ve never felt so whole with him.

You’re too fucked out to notice how badly your bed is creaking. Even with your moans trapped behind Takuma’s palm, he’s sure your parents will know he’s here by now.

“Fuuuuck, you’re choking my fuckin’ dick, baby. Gonna make me cum too fast.” he tells you, kissing your forehead as he slams his hips into yours. “So tight for me… my p-perfect girl, aren’t ya?”

You nod desperately, clenching around him at his every word.

“Want you to cum for me… but,” he rests his forehead against yours, alternating his movements to slow and deep rather than hard and fast. It has you drooling against his palm, but he doesn’t mind. He likes you, loves you, when you’re his braindead princess. “I only make my girlfriend cum.”

Your eyes widen in horror as you realise what he’s trying to do. You wish you could say you regret letting him fuck you again. But it’s too good, you’re lost to it. You’re almost dumb enough to agree.

Almost.

He moves his hand and cups your face, imploring you to look him in his eyes and tell him you’re his again.

“I c-can’t,” you sniffle. “Hurts too much being—”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t say that, princess.” he interrupts, not wanting to hear your thought in full. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. You love me, yeah? Always gonna be my girl. Mine.”

And as if on command, you nod in acceptance. Because he’s right, you will always be his girl. Whether in an official capacity or not. Even the days you’re separated, he’s always on your mind. You worry that weeks, months or even years could pass without him and he’d still be on your mind.

A particular intense stroke inside of your gummy walls makes your body jolt and a heavy moan tears through your throat. He looks down, admiring where to two of you meet before searching your eyes.

“There, baby?” he asks, experimentally thrusting into the same spot. He grins when he hears you keen once again for him, prodding it again and again until your eyes spill over with tears from the blinding pleasure. “Theeeere she is, right there. Bet you wanna cum real bad, ‘cause I do.”

“I do!” you agree, cupping his face gently before kissing him. “I love you, Takuma, please don’t stop,” you whimper.

“I won’t baby, promise.” he assures you. It’s imperceptible, and he’s glad, you can’t see the relief washing over his entire body as he feels safe once again. You’re his, again. There’s nowhere else you should be but with him. “C-Can’t let my girl down, can I?” he grins.

And after everything. All of the hurt, all of the effort, all of the determination, you’re his again. All of that defiance was for nought. And yet, you’re smiling. Your hands helplessly grip his body, nails digging into his shoulder blades as you scratch, attempting to ground yourself.

His lips find yours, eager to silence himself as he brings you both closer and closer to your demise. His breaths are heavy, his nostrils flaring as he continues to pummel into you. Your kiss is sloppy, but perfect. The messy passion heightens your pleasure, somehow. His tongue finding your own reminds you that there’s no one in the world you’d rather be doing this with.

Every plunge of his length against your sweet spot feels like love. Pure, unadulterated, love. Everything you’ve ever wanted, ever needed, from Takuma this time.

And as you cum together, moaning into each other’s mouths, that feels deeper. He looks into your eyes as he fills you to the brim, your walls clench around him, desperate to keep him inside and milk him for all he’s worth. You never want this feeling to end, he’s the man of your dreams.

He kisses your neck as he continues to fuck himself inside of you, making sure to deposit every last drop of his love into you. He feels it too, it feels different to how it usually is.

Better, somehow.

The pecks of his lips slow as he ventures towards yours again. Each kiss is interpolated with ardour. He doesn’t want to risk stopping for fear of all of this coming undone. He doesn’t want you to see sense, again. Despite what you might think, he is in love. A love so intense he couldn’t begin to explain.

He eventually pulls away, bracing himself for what you might say.

But nothing comes.

He’s grinning from ear to ear because you don’t say a word. Not one. But your expression says it all. You look exhausted, but fulfilled. You look beautiful as bliss ravishes your drained form. However even without all that, he only needs to look into your eyes to see it.

You really are his girl again.

He can practically see the hearts shimmering in your irises. You’re looking up at him like you’ve fallen for that signature Takuma charm once again, but are you really so foolish? Even he is a little surprised.

He wants to do better, of course he does. And maybe this time he’ll really try. He doesn’t mean to let you down so often, it’s not like he wants to do it.

That’s just the type of guy he is.

The type to make promises he can’t keep.

anon: okay but imagine ino sneaking in your bedroom every once in a while and fucking you into forgetting he's an absent boyfriend, he's always smoking with his friend (plug! sukuna *cough cough*) he's a trust fund baby, and the worst boyfriend ever but dick game is so good he has you thinking you can fix him, so every time you let him hit you are looking at him with heart eyes and it almosttt makes him want to do better

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atzloverr · 22 days

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Hongjoong - NSFW alphabet

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while, school has started now so let’s just say it’s a lot. Hope you enjoy!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If he hurt you in any way (bites, bruises, scratches etc with consent) he’ll hold you tenderly and kiss your forehead repeatedly, asking you if you’re okay. He’ll praise you for taking him so well, lightly petting your head.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your lips, or just your mouth in general (lol). When you lick your lips while focusing on something, or bite your lip while looking in his eyes, he can’t ignore the bulge forming in his pants.

He doesn’t only find your mouth sexy, he also adores it when you smile or laugh, your grin giving him butterflies in his stomach. He’ll smile widely if you pout slightly, finding your little kissy face adorable.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves the lewd thought of your pretty face covered in his cum, watching you lick your lips, tasting his liquids. He knows it’s a quite dirty fantasy, but he also can’t help but get hard at the thought of it.

If he can’t come all over you, he’ll gladly come all over himself instead , urging you to lick up his stomach, giving you a taste of his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He sometimes touches himself without your knowledge, sneaking a hand under the table and slowly rubbing himself as the two of you have a conversation. He can’t help but grow desperate at times, hearing your beautiful voice, so he’ll try his best to keep a straight face as he slowly pleasures himself.

He’s actually very possessive over you. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable, so he keeps his jealousy to himself most of the time. As much as he loves seeing you in revealing clothes, he can’t help but see everyone else’s eyes on you. He’ll snake a hand around your waist while scanning the room, making sure everyone knows who you belong to. (more about this on W)

As possessive as he is, there’s actually one person who he thinks deserves the pleasure of having you. Seonghwa. One time, he caught Seonghwa’s eyes staying on your form for a bit too long, as you walked past only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of short shorts. He would’ve gotten mad at anyone else, but he just couldn’t find himself getting angry with his dearest friend.

Ever since that day, Hongjoong had imagined a scenario of the three of you, indulging in your desires. He knew you would never cheat on him, but you definitely found Seonghwa attractive, that was for sure. He would silently touch himself to the thought of sharing you with Seonghwa, and as much as he would want it to become a reality, he could never admit it to any of you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hongjoong’s pretty well experienced in bed, but he hasn’t had many long lasting relationships, before you that is. He had basically only had one night stands, or fuck buddies, so he’s not really used to the romantic aspect of it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I actually don’t think he has one. Hongjoong will be happy with any position with you, and as much as he enjoys the intimacy of missionary, he’ll gladly take you from behind, fucking into you at a fast pace.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s not very serious during the act, and he’ll let out airy laughs as he rams into you, giggling at your flustered state. He thinks sex should be something fun for the two of you, so he’ll be smiling the whole time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hongjoong is very busy, so I think he might not always find the time or energy to shave. If you don’t mind, he’ll keep his hair pretty long just for that reason. He’ll trim it occasionally, and if he’s not that busy, or if he just feels up to it, he might shave at times, liking the feel of having little to no hair down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s not very romantic per se, but he is intimate. He views sex as something fun, but also a way to express love and intimacy. The first time you did it together, he was really careful, and made sure you felt loved at all times, but in your established relationship, it’s very different from time to time. One night, he’ll think of it as fun playtime, but another night, it can be something very intimate and important to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Hongjoong SCREAMS pillow humping. In bed, he’s on the dominant side, but when jerking off, he acts like a cute bunny in heat. He’ll quickly fuck into a pillow, whimpering and whining quietly. If you ever walk in on him, he’ll feel sooo embarrassed to be caught in such a moment, but you’ll just reassure him, telling him how cute you found it.

He jerks off pretty often I think, or at least more often than most people. He gets pretty desperate at times, and just feels the need to get himself off quickly. I think he does it at least once a day👀

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cockwarming.

He loves it when you just sit on him, or when he spoons you from behind, keeping his hard cock inside of you as you fall asleep. He’s obsessed with the feeling of you pulsing around him. When you try to move he’ll firmly grip your hips, tutting and telling you to be patient.

Dacryphilia

He loves seeing you cry from all the intense sensations he gives you. Seeing your beautiful tears running down your cheek as he overstimulates you. He’ll gently kiss your tears away, petting your head lovingly.

He also just loves manhandling you, gripping your thighs roughly and putting you wherever he wants you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves doing it in the studio, propping you up on the desk and fingering you while leaving love bites all over your thighs, but nothing quite compares to doing it in the bedroom. He loves being able to shove your face in the pillows, or fuck you on the floor against the mirror, while having access to all the toys he owns.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves seeing you be passionate about one of your interests, babbling on about it with a smile on your face. He’s ashamed of how turned on he gets when you excitedly go on and on about one of your favorite subjects.

When you look at him with that lustful gaze, he’ll immediately get turned on. He loves it when you flirt with him, and gets even more turned on when you get flustered as he flirts back. He’ll keep looking in your eyes as you try to avert your gaze, reminding you who’s in charge.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think he’d be into anal (receiving). He just doesn’t enjoy the feeling that much honestly.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think it’s 50/50 for Hongjoong, but maybe he has a slight preference for receiving. He loves going down on you, and he’ll gladly be in between your legs for however long you need. But there’s something about when you go down on him, a feeling that he just can’t put into words. The second he feels your warm mouth around his cock, he can’t help but buck his hips into you. He might even grab your head, just to steady himself. He almost becomes slightly submissive when you work your tongue on him, moaning loudly and shaking with pleasure.

He’s very skillful with his mouth, and passionately uses his tongue and hands on you as if you’re his last meal. His tip is extremely sensitive, so if you really want to rile him up, you should focus on that.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hongjoong’s really rough, and easily manhandles you and throws you around, despite his small height. He goes really rough, and usually fast. Even when he’s dominant, he’ll desperately thrust into you, drowning in the bliss of being inside of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves quickies. Doing things quickly and efficiently works perfectly for him, and as much as he loves taking his sweet time and being able to savor the moment with you, he never says no to a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes experimenting, but also has clear boundaries and won’t cross them. He doesn’t fuck with public stuff, since he believes your cute sounds and reactions are for his eyes only, but he could do something risky. He doesn’t mind doing it in a public restroom, or in his studio where one of the members might walk in. If we should include the other members, I don’t think he feels very ashamed of showing PDA in front of them. He just makes sure they know not to try something with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hongjoong’s stamina is really high, and he’ll even want to do more than his body can handle, not being able to get enough of you. He’ll go for as many rounds as he sees fit, still going even as your body is becoming limp in exhaustion. He’ll want to do as many positions as possible, not feeling satisfied if he doesn’t get to feel you in as many ways as possible.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a fair amount of toys, and mostly different types of restraints. He has silk bindings that he’ll tie you up with at times, but he might also pull out his rough rope, wanting your wrists to have bruises afterwards. He doesn’t use many toys on himself, and probably doesn’t want to either, but he’ll gladly try out different things on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He lives for teasing you, and just can’t get enough of your cute little reactions when he does so. He’ll make you spell out exactly what you need from him, or make you practically beg for him to give it to you. Sure, he loves the way you look and sound when you bask in pleasure, but nothing beats your desperate whines and the way you squirm around when he deprives you of your needs.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very loud, and his sounds usually consist of airy moans, heavy breathing, small giggles and laughs. He’ll occasionally let out a whimper if he feels really good, like right when he comes or when he enters you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Hongjoong tries his best to hide his jealous and possessive nature, but sometimes, he just can’t ignore it.

“Hongjoong, what’s up? Is something the matter?” you asked, rubbing his arm slowly. You could tell something was off, he had that grumpy face ever since you arrived to the party you had just come home from. Hongjoong sighed, sneaking a hand up your bare thigh. “Did you see the way those men looked at you?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

You tilted your head. “No?” Hongjoong suddenly lifted you up from where you sat beside him, and placed you on his lap, facing him. “They were eyefucking you all night,” Hongjoong pouted. You smiled in confusion, cheeks slightly flushed at your current position. As you tried to move slightly, Hongjoong pressed you further into his lap.

“I need to make sure they know who you belong to,” he smirked. You felt his erection pressing against you through his jeans. You couldn’t help the squeak that you let out when you felt your boyfriend’s lips on your neck. You pressed down against his crotch slightly, and a small growl was heard from underneath you. You were in for a long night.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think Hongjoong’s average down there (maybe even on the smaller side hihi) but he has more girth than length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is higher than most people’s, and he often finds himself sexually frustrated, needing some sort of relief, hence the reason why he jerks off a lot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

He can’t fall asleep until a while afterwards, still needing a while to cool off and get his mind in a peaceful state. Even after he’s done it with you, he still finds himself feeling horny, so he might need a while.

Hope y’all enjoyed thiisssss <3 please leave requests if you have any!! (which member next???)

my masterlist

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #n$fw alphabet #alphabet #ateez imagine #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #hongjoong smut

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kaevch · 6 months

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OH SWEET, SWEET LOVE !

where they like to be kissed— housewardens.

gn! reader. (you/your prns)

RIDDLE loves it when you kiss his cheeks. His face heats up in an instant as your lips make contact with his cheeks. If you did it in public, he might scold you about how it's not appropriate to display this kind of affection out in the open but if you did it in private, he'll just give you a shy smile while longingly staring at your lips. (....okay hes been staring for quite some time now. just give him a proper kiss smh)

LEONA practically melts into your arms when you lightly peck his ears, it twitching in response as he grumbles something before snuggling closer to the nape of your neck. You swear you can feel his face warm up though, and the rather rapid swishing of his tail that soon wraps around your leg kinda gives away how much he actually liked it. (thread ur fingers gently through his hair after that and he's hooked. this better be an everyday routine, herbivore 😞)

Gently holding his face and kissing his mole, slowly trailing your lips down to his neck as you mumble about how pretty he looks makes AZUL feel so loved as he squirms under your gaze. He can feel his ears turn red and he's sure you've noticed it too, given the playful smile that rests on your lips as you giggle. Sigh, how much he loves you.

Peppering kisses on KALIM's face everyday after class just might be his favorite thing, no scratch that, it IS his favorite thing. The tingly feeling your kisses leave on his face, oh it's the best ever. He'll look at you with sparkles in his eyes and a giddy smile as he leans in to capture your lips in his own, soon pulling away to land a peck on the tip of your nose. ( Urrghhhh Kalim js Kalim i fucking love him so so much. )

Taking VIL's hand in yours and kissing his knuckles softly will draw out a hum of satisfaction from him, a gentle smile resting on his lips at your gesture, watching intently as you move to kiss the tip of his fingers, that loving look still present in your eyes as you smile up so tenderly at him. He pauses, his gaze softening as a small blush tints his cheeks. How can you be so.. he sighs, shaking his head before using his free hand to point at his lips and raising a brow, daring you to plant a kiss there.

After FINALLY beating the game he was struggling at for a week , all IDIA wanted to do was take a break. And what's the best way to take a break? Cuddling up to you in his bed (as cringey as it sounds. <- his words not mine) and turning into putty the moment you kiss his forehead, the fatigue of pulling all nighters and stressing over the game leaving his body. He snuggles closer to you, burying his face into your chest before dozing off. Maybe just for you, he can be cringey. (that last part was also him guys)

MALLEUS...loves every kiss you give him. He really does, but it's something about the fleeting kisses that you leave near his lips which he can't seem to get enough of. The jittery feeling in his stomach worsens when he sees that smile on your face and the way your eyes sparkle with mischief every time you kiss him on that exact spot, pulling away just so he doesn't have a chance to actually connect your lips together (which, mind you he could've easily done so). It just feels so special to him, that you're teasing him like this, and only him. ( he also especially loves it when you kiss his horns. ) ( okay maybe he has two favorite kissing spots but he LOVES all the others equally 😢 )

dated: 24th March 2024

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jkslipppiercing · 9 months

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I'll show you | Part 2 | jjk

�� summary: you show jungkook how much you love him...by giving him head.

♡ genre: a bit of angst, fluff, and smut all in one (mostly smut and fluff) (idk)

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, soft dom!oc.

♡ warnings: a LOT of kissing, jungkook is frustrated/mad, oc gives jk a blowjob, gagging is mentioned, oral (m receiving), dick sucking, he cums in her mouth, praise, jk calls her a good girl.

♡ WC: 2.6K

♡ a/n: enjoy 😮‍💨🤭

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After leaving you with an incredulous weight of frustration on your back, Jungkook had showered, gotten dressed, and hung out in the living room.

He's sat there, knees spread wide apart, forearms under his head, looking at the tv through his thick lashes with a head lazily laid back on the headrest; shamelessly offering his masculinity.

The wails of the tv blend into a chaotic blur of white noise in the back of your head, and the awkwardness that basically radiates off of you is almost palpable.

You switch your weight from one foot to the other, only to give yourself something to do.

"Show me" replays in your head over and over again, and you simply can't make it stop.

What on earth does he mean by that?

Show him what?

Should you bake him a cake or something?

No...that won't do.

Well...what about writing him a letter?

Seriously?

This is fucking ridiculous.

You don't realize you've said that out loud until he flicks a gaze over to you.

His eyes hold yours for a mere second. You think he might actually say something, so you stare back at him in anticipation of some sort of reaction.

...which never comes.

His gaze trails back to where it was originally settled, watching the tv as he feigns interest.

This is so damn frustrating.

Deciding to test the waters with him, you take a few steps forward.

His eyes remain stubbornly fixed on the tv, and as you come to a halt in front of him, he still refuses to look at you- so he settles on staring at a point behind you.

He's being childish.

Too bad, because you won't fucking have it anymore.

"Show me" blares in your conscience as a reminder.

Your foot enters his personal bubble of space, and as a first initiated interaction from him, he spreads his knees a little for you to fit between his legs.

The action sparks a flame of hope upon what could be.

Okay...

Now what?

In a split second of hesitation, you abandon all thoughts of rationality and take a seat. On him.

He lets you.

Knees digging into the couch on either side of his waist, you straddle him. The brush of your core against his crotch sends an electrifying jolt up your spine, and he finally looks at you when he notices how your breath shallows.

He doesn't speak, and neither do you.

Hands in need of holding onto something, you delve them into his hair. You play with the hair on the back of his head, scratching his scalp.

He always loved the gesture, humming approvingly whenever you went on with it; but now, the coldness of the silence weighing the air between you spreads an ache through your chest.

He just stares.

Another emotion accompanies the ache, and you soon recognize it to be challenge.

So you lean forward and latch your lips onto his jaw. To start off slow, you kiss the slant of it sweetly. Inching down a bit and boldly licking a long stripe up the length of his neck, you're satisfied once jungkook sucks in a sharp breath.

As you make out with the length of his neck, an urge to grind on his dick grows- but you fight it.

When you bite down on his sweet spot, he groans disapprovingly, which causes you to lick and suck on the area to dull the pain.

The throbbing ache of your heart intensifies when you realize he still hasn't laid a hand on you.

"What are you doing?" He roughly rasps out, clenching his jaw when you give his throat one last kiss before you pull away.

You widen your eyes innocently, deceptively showing a stance of confusion.

"Hm?" Your hands remain unrelenting as they comb through his strands. Planting one last peck on his jaw, you fully straighten. "What am i doing?"

Echoing his words only did so much as to avoiding his question, but you don't break the act even when his stare hardens.

He looks away, and your heart just about shatters.

With now softer eyes, you chase his line of vision as you tilt your head to the side, catching his eyes with desperate ones of your own.

"Still mad at me?" Hands slowly slipping away from his nape, you look down, afraid you might actually cry if this goes on any longer.

Enough.

It started off with the both of you being mad at each other, and you found his anger so over-exaggerated that you became just as pissed at him as he was at you.

-is. He is pissed at you.

Well, now, frustration gave way to just as much misery as anger.

Your raging emotions of upsetness subsided to show those of sadness.

It's only been a short while since he last had his hands on you, but it feels as long as a lifetime.

"Fuck, I'm not- I'm not mad at you, y/n." The frustration nestled in between the dips of his voice is palpable, and your tears burn the back of your eyes. You blink in effort to push them back.

A lump in your throat grows, and you force it back down with a thick swallow, eyes never meeting his as they stay fixed on his shirt.

Fiddling with your hands is all you can do, but you muster a weak answer. "Sure seems like it to me."

It might sound angry, but it's soft. Defeated.

He runs a hand through his hair, and the position you're in looks awkward, but it's not. Not in the least.

On the contrary, it's comfortable; familiar. Feelings of security lighten up the thickness of the tension in the atmosphere, poorly so.

"Do you not love me anymore?" The question has you looking up so fast you're afraid your neck might snap.

Vulnerability swirls in his dark chocolate eyes, bleeding through his tone, and you want to kiss the hurt that accompanies it away.

You narrow your eyes in disbelief. "Will you stop saying that, for god's sake?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"You want an answer?" You shoot back, and he maintains a blank expression in response.

A small "mhm" urges you on.

"That just might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say." His eyes light up with intrigue. "'Why?' you might ask? Well, baby, too bad for you, 'cause you're stuck with me." A bitter laugh erupts from you, and he cracks a sad smile.

"You're the most lovable, supportive boyfriend I could ever have, and I would never change a single thing about you. There's nothing to even change!" You exclaim in disbelief as you open your arms in expression.

The lightest pink blush dusts his cheeks, and he looks away.

You shift his chin with your index finger so he's looking at you again. "I'm not done."

Biting back a smile at your sassiness, he lets you continue.

"You are love itself. Saying that I love you would be such an embarrassing understatement. I believe heaven belongs with you, my soul entertwined with yours. Fuck, i love you so damn much it hurts, man."

You manage a chuckle out of him, which makes you smile yourself.

When you see his own initiation to speak, you trail a hand down his torso which makes him shut his mouth just as fast as he opened it.

"Will you let me show you?" Your hand stops where both your bodies meet, and you smile in triumph when his breath hitches.

You feel powerful- dominant- and in control of his body, so you lean forward by intention of pressing your lips to his- which caused him to close his eyes, in anticipation of the kiss- but you stop just shy of them.

When you stay there for a couple of seconds, his eyes open to reveal a never-ending darkness of lust and need.

You smirk, and for the first time this evening, his hand shoots to the back of your neck and grabs your nape.

The harsh movement makes your heartbeat skid to a stop, and it's as if he's reminding you who the one in charge here is.

Even though he is quite literally under you, he still manages to steal your breath away.

He replies to your earlier comment, voice scratched and restrained. "Oh yeah?" That alone sends heat barreling down the depths of your sex. "And just how exactly are you going to do that?"

A sardonic smile tips the corners of his lips up as he eyes your own.

You part your lips involuntarily, which causes him to lick his own pink ones. He bites down on his lips with restraint, and the simple action has you so wet you're almost uncomfortable.

But you pay your horniness no mind as you slip from his hands and settle on your knees in front of him, sneakily cupping him through his pants.

"Like this." His lids shutter closed with hitched breathing. He closes his eyes and his breath grows ragged beneath you as he lazily stretches out and spreads his knees further in invitation.

He's sporting a semi as you feel him through the fabric, and you grow impatient.

He eyes your movements as you place your hands on his belt before looking up into his eyes innocently. "May I?"

Your voice comes out so casually; it doesn't even sound like you're on your knees, asking your boyfriend if you can suck his cock.

He looks down at you with a hooded gaze. "Be my guest."

You smile in return.

Finding it unnecessary to waste any more time, you unbuckle his belt before you pull his pants down.

Kissing him through his briefs, you salivate at the little spot of precum leaking from the head of his length.

After pulling those down as well, you're met with the magnificent sight of his cock as it slaps against his abdomen.

"Fuck, I love your cock." And you lick a long stripe up his length before you stroke him sensually.

He chuckles at your comment, his breath cutting short when you kitty lick his tip. Nibbling and kissing lightly, your actions cause him to clench his hands by his sides in effort not to touch you.

"But not as much as I love you."

At that, he groans, which motivates you on to taking him in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his tip reminds you of how familiar this all feels.

His body, his scent, his cock-

Everything about him is to die for.

You tease him as you refuse to take him deeper in your mouth, sucking on his tip to make him grow desperate for your touch- which is exactly the reaction you get to your teasing.

"Stop." The desperation laced into the demanding end of his voice awakens butterflies in your lower belly. "Stop teasing me, y/n."

He's on the verge of begging, but not quite there...yet.

"Hm..." You moan around his cock as you take him deeper, inch by inch, like a "good girl" as he likes to call you.

You stack your fists above each other on the length that doesn't fit in your mouth- he's fucking huge- as the tip nudges the back of your throat.

The gag that you fight to keep down makes your eyes water, and when you look up at him through teary eyes and saliva leaking through your mouth, he's just about done for.

A hitched, breathless- horny- moan rips out of his throat and he throws his head back- afriad he might bust if he looks at you any longer- as his hands fly to your hair.

He holds onto his dear life when you move your head, sucking him dry and stroking what doesn't fit.

A rushed "fuck" blows out of his lips in a breathless plea, your head bobbing up and down his cock while his hands help you.

"You take me so well." He grits out, making your cheeks redden in color as you grow shy.

The irony of your shyness as you suck his dick is immaculate, but he was always one to know just how much you loved praise.

"You gonna take my cum as well?" he's struggling to contain himself as his whole body tenses; he's so close. "yeah? Like the good girl you are?"

You hum around him, and his eyes look down at you only to find yours staring right back up at him.

He groans.

"So fucking beautiful" he thinks.

"Goddamnit, you're so fucking mine." His jaw clenches as his chest rises and falls with uneven heavy breaths, his hands portaying his emotions as he balls your hair up in his fists and pushes you down further.

You can't help but gag, putting every last effort into getting him off, quickening your pace. Your jaw aches- and so does your pussy, pulsing with need- but you put that aside and watch him in all his glory, gazing up at him with innocent teary eyes.

With one last thrust up your throat- and a hushed curse under his breath- Jungkook holds your gaze till the very last second, even as his cum shoots up your throat.

You hold his tip in your between your lips, sucking lightly, and he throws his head back. With his hands keeping your head in place, he's fucking his dick lazily into your mouth until the very last drop.

"Fuck" might be his favorite curse word, and it surely is, as he moans it loudly before his hands disappear from your hair and he slouches back onto the couch; his features showing no signs but pure satisfaction.

You press one last kiss to his cock, a warm goodbye- for now- and help him tuck his spent length back into his briefs.

He looks at you with that after-orgasm glow, and your breaths quicken as your core throbs with need.

You ignore the impulse to jump on his dick and ride it to no remorse, straddling him instead.

You've always loved cuddles after sex, and while he preferred cigarettes, you were nothing but a romantic in bed compared to him.

He holds your jaw in place as he joins your lips to his, his tongue invading your mouth. Just the single thought of him wanting to taste himself throws your senses into overdrive, and you let out a whimper.

Not wanting to tire him out any further, you pull away.

"Come on, let's head to bed." As you try to get up and ready for a good night's sleep, him holding you in place doesn't let you.

You can't budge as he kisses you again and pulls away only to say, "Nuh-uh" rather sassily.

"Yuh-huh." You respond with the same sassy tone he used, which causes him to smile against your lips.

You can physically feel every single part of your body melt into him.

You've always loved when he smiles against your lips, but now that you're horny out of your mind, he's so incredibly hard to resist.

He swallows your moan when he cups your ass and squeezes.

"I love you, Jungkook." You play with his hair.

"I love you more, baby."

"No, you don't." You challenge.

"Yeah? might need to suck me off again for a reminder." The taken-aback expression on your face elicits a proud chuckle from him before he kisses you again.

He just can't get enough of your lips.

Or your body.

Or you.

His lips inch toward your throat as he basically colors your neck with purplish marks.

You shiver before you realize where this is going.

Sly motherfucker. (full of love, like, not in a rude way).

"Jungkook."

A warning and a dare.

He looks at you with hooded, lustful eyes, even though he just came about five minutes ago.

"I'm not done with you yet." His dark tone catches your attention, and you choose wisely not to argue.

"My turn."

should i make a third part 🙊

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#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #smut #jungkook smut #fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jk #jungkook jeon

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jamil-s-wifey · 1 year

Note

If you're taking any scenario request. Maybe could I request funny/silly one where Leona and his S/O are married and live in the Royal Palace. Leona's S/O has gotten lost somehow in their own home and when found their response is "This place is too damn big I'm sorry!"

You have NO idea how much I love these types of fics! Wholesome crackheadedness at its finest✨ We love a spouse with 0 orientation skills. (I'd know, I get lost in supermarkets) This was ONE OF THE FUNNIEST THINGS I've EVER written. I hope you enjoy!

"What the actual fuck."

A turn here. A turn there.

Oh, would you look at that - the exact same vase you passed 5 minutes ago. But was that really the same vase? Or was it its evil twin, trying to further confuse you, only for you to get lost even more and die of starvation, eventually BECOMING ONE WITH THE PALACE...

God, whoever built this palace should have their head on a stake. Haha, that sounded a lot like the Red Queen of Hearts. Perhaps Riddle was rubbing off on you. You two did text occasionally since graduating from NRC.

Speaking of graduation, you married Leona. (yay!) And it's not like you weren't happy. Life was relatively peaceful. You two moved back to the palace. Arrangements had begun for you two to take over a certain part of Sunset Savannah, as something akin to a *Peerage. (They had their own name for it, you are currently far too annoyed to remember.) A lot of (semi-forced) communication set the road to reconciliation between the two brothers. (Admittedly a very long road. A road that puts Gulliver's travels to shame.) The Royal Family™️ accepted you with open hearts. (albeit a tad wary at first)

Really there was only one major problem.

The ROYAL PALACE IS LIKE A GODDAMN LABYRINTH. And that's rich, given your history of painting the white roses with Ace and Deuce in Heartsabyul's maze. So here you are, lost.

Scratch that.

Lost: again.

And all you wanted to do was find Cheka's room. You had a gift for the little cub.

"An architectural masterpiece, my ass. This is an architectural disaster. A disaster with a capital D. D for Vitamin D - what I won't be getting, because I'm trapped within these walls, where the SUN CAN'T REACH ME-"

Okay. Calm down. It's not that bad, sure there isn't a soul in sight, but you're bound to stumble upon somebody at some point, right? There had to be servants, or guards, or somebody! UNLESS! This is all an elaborate plan to get rid of you.

Aha! That must be it. The Royal Family wants you dead and they intend to make it seem like an accident! But Leona wouldn't allow that, right? He loves you! Dearly! You're his spouse, his one and only! Ah, cruel fate.

Is it just you...or are these walls moving in on each other. So this IS an assassination attempt! And you presented yourself on a silver platter. Good job, s/o. Splendid work. A royal for a few months and you're already about to be assassinated. Your name shall remain the book of "Dumbest ways to die." Goodbye cruel world-

"S/o."

Leona's voice rang through the empty hallway, "What are you doing out here."

Ah! And so tragedy was avoided once more!

"Leona, my LOVE! Thank God."

"Did you just- get lost in the palace... again?", his eyes read annoyance but his tone was teasing.

"It's not MY fault this place is so damn big, what do you need all this space for anyways? Indoor badminton? Hide and Seek or Die?"

"Definitely that last one. That's how we get rid of our enemies."

"AHA! I knew it! So this IS an assassination attempt!"

He simply rolled his eyes, pulling you towards him to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss you on the forehead.

"This isn't an assassination attempt. You did this yourself. It's called idiocy."

"You should build a better palace."

"What I should do is put a collar on you. With a tracking device on it. Like a pet."

"Oh, Leona~ Who knew you were into that~"

"Next time I'm leaving you here to rot."

"Then I'll haunt you to Hell and back."

He smirked, pinching your cheek as you were both making your way far from the cursed looping corridor.

"At least you won't be able to get lost."

"I told you, it's not my fault."

"Nah, of course not. The Palace is just cursed."

"EVIDENTLY."

You both knew this isn't the last time you'll be getting lost. And Leona was seriously considering the tracking device.

Perhaps he'd already ordered it too.

You were about to find out.

*Peerage - collective noun for titles like Duke, Duchess, Count, Earl etc. Comes from "Peers of the Realm" where one could hold one or more of these titles. It differs from monarchy to monarchy. THAT'S YOUR WORD FOR THE DAY FOLKS!

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revehae · 7 months

Text

hurts so good (1)

pairing ↠ jeno x you x mark

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, unprotected sex, degradation, slapping, impact play, cheating

summary ↠ mark is too gentle for you in bed and when you share this problem with a mutual friend, jeno, he's more than willing to help you get off.

wc ↠ 4.2k

a/n ↠ this part one of a repost! i love this fic and it would be a sin to not share it with the world again. also i kinda love this banner… mark’s looking off to the side; jeno looks straight into the camera. it’s perfect

don’t like it, don’t read.

no matter how much you knew you loved mark, you couldn’t shake the itch you had.

an itch that needed scratching. which he was not very good at doing.

mark kissed his way down your belly, trailing a gentle column of pecks to your thighs. you resisted a frown that desperately wanted to cling to your lips. for the past couple of weeks, your boyfriend had been attempting to initiate sex with you, but every time up until now, you had turned him down.

it wasn’t that you weren’t sexually attracted to mark or anything like that. first of all, you dumbfounded by how fine your boyfriend was. unbeknownst to him, every now and then, you would touch yourself to thoughts of him and mental images of his handsome little face.

the problem was that those fantasies tended to get you off harder than he did.

“you’re so pretty,” mark murmured, running a hand through your folds. you were wet - because your body couldn’t deny wanting him, much less when he put his hands on you - though not nearly as wet as you could have been.

mark didn’t need to know that. in fact, the only reason you had agreed to letting him fuck you now was because you didn’t want him to assume that you were cheating and had found more than adequate loving elsewhere (not that you had just yet). and maybe you were also a little sexually frustrated and you knew this was the closest to release you would get without actually seeking out another partner. mark was the love of your life and you never wanted to break his heart like that, so half the time you sucked it up and closed your eyes.

the sex was good. you would never deny that. but good wasn’t good enough.

mark dipped his head between your thighs, now starting to lap at your cunt which guaranteed a mind-blowing orgasm, and you let him have his way with you for a while.

one time, you told mark that you and a group of friends were competitively abstaining from having sex and foreplay was the sole thing that wasn’t strictly forbidden. for insurance, you convinced rosé and her boyfriend jaehyun to vouch for you. you and mark spent the week blowing each other and to this day nothing mark did got you off as hard as it did when he ate you out.

but after a while, you tugged mark’s hair, purring, “fuck me.”

mark pulled back, a little baffled. he liked eating you out. he noticed that it made you cum harder. “i haven’t prepared you yet. i don’t wanna hurt you.”

that’s the problem, you thought, miffed. “it’s okay. i can take it, baby.”

“are you sure?” mark’s brows were furrowed. it was cute. you also liked the way his brows furrowed when he was balls deep inside you.

“mm-hm. fuck me, please.”

mark reluctantly obeyed, because the last thing he wanted was to cause you any pain, but you kept insisting it would be fine. he was the type to always put your pleasure before his own, even if it meant ignoring how hard his dick throbbed and how desperately he needed to fuck you, because he loved you and you were his world. it was appreciated on your end, that was no doubt, but a bit of a nuisance.

with mark hovering above you now, you gripped his shoulders, biting your lip when he at last penetrated you. mark was slow and steady, at least when he first started fucking you, taking his sweet time to push every inch inside you. tears stung your eyes. there was a slight burn to his every thrust, and his steady pace prolonged the pain, but you were in love with it. plus your boyfriend leaned a little towards the girthy side.

mark noticed your tears instantly and ground to a halt. “does it hurt?”

“no,” you lied, because you didn’t need him to worry his pretty little ass off. “feels good, markie. keep going.”

you gave a kiss of reassurance to his neck and that was all mark needed to pick back up where he left off, pushing in deeper with every thrust until he was completely swallowed by you. the whole time, mark was still kissing you, as if he was trying to take your mind off it. you wished he wasn’t afraid to be a little bit rougher with you. come to think of it, there wasn’t a single time where mark had ever hurt you on purpose - not even a smack to your ass or slap to your thigh.

it made you feel guilty knowing your boyfriend was only being the caring gentleman that you had fallen for, but you couldn’t help what turned you on. you liked when he underestimated his strength, handling you a little bit harder than intended, or when he came and absent-mindedly gripped your hips like a vice, knuckles white and his hold tight enough to bruise. mark would apologize over and over, insisting he didn’t intend to, but you never complained. you liked to see the little bruises in the mirror or catch glimpses of them throughout the day.

at one point, mark picked up his pace, slapping his hips into yours with a rhythm. “harder,” you told him, wanting him to break you. “i can take it.”

mark did as told, though not without gently kissing your lips and telling you how beautiful you were. to mark, it was always a sight to see you like this. he was so proud to call you his. he was in love with how you sucked him in, how tight you were, but most importantly, he was in love with you and hoped his body would convey that during sex.

you moaned at how deep he was, closing your eyes and tuning him out. what would it take for him to break you - to fuck you like he hated you?

“almost there, baby,” mark groaned a little later, bringing his hands to your clit because he knew your body intimately and that was his saving grace.

“cum inside,” you whimpered, imagining him making threats of getting you pregnant. you could hear his voice in your head. that, combined with the drive of hips into yours, was the force pushing you towards the end.

mark kept pounding you out, becoming less and less steady. it was a telltale sign of him being close to release. your pleas for him to come inside you only made it worse, because the thought was at the front of his mind and he desperately needed to fill you to your utter capacity.

you needed him to cum inside you so badly. mark was groaning and grunting, unraveling before your eyes. at last he emptied his load into you, hips still rocking into yours until he reached the last of his high. you moaned at the feeling of him filling you to the brim, his fingers digging into your hips harshly.

mark, now returning to earth, glanced at you and frowned. “you didn’t cum.”

“i did.”

“don’t lie to me. that’s the worst thing you can do.”

you frowned.

mark crept closer, running a finger over your cheek. he wanted absolute eye contact. “what am i doing wrong?”

“it’s not you, baby. i promise,” you sighed, running your fingers through his hair. “it’s me. i liked it. i’m just a little hard to please.”

mark retorted sharply, “and what does it mean if i can’t please you?”

“you do a very good job at pleasing me, mark. i told you, it feels good when you’re in me. don’t overthink it,” you told him sweetly. in all honesty, it wasn’t far from the truth. mark hit you in all the right places. there was just something missing.

mark leaned into your neck and murmured, “are you sure?”

“yes. so don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“okay,” mark huffed and moved his head to your chest.

two weeks later, you found yourself at jeno’s place. he was a mutual friend of you and mark and somebody you were both very close with. you had come over to drop off a plate of strawberry tiramisu per mark’s request but, as to be expected, got tangled in conversation.

jeno, curious as ever, asked, “speaking of mark, what’s going on with you and my boy?”

you furrowed your brows. “what do you mean?”

“he’s in one of those ‘my-girl-hates-me’ moods again. i thought you guys had gotten into an argument or something, but he won’t tell me, and since he’s so down in his spirits i just left it alone,” jeno said with a shrug.

you bit your lip. you had two options. you could either keep what happens with you and mark between you and mark, or you could open up a little. jeno was a trustworthy guy and friend, and thus you were more inclined to be honest with him. “we’ve hit a wall lately,” you said vaguely.

“as in?”

“as in the sex is very… how do i put this… we’re not having sex very often,” you explained, clearing your throat.

that clearly got jeno’s attention. “don’t tell me mark’s game is declining.”

“no, it’s not mark. the sex is good. it’s just...,” you chewed over your words, unsure of how to put it in a way that could rationalize how you felt. without coming off completely insane. “he’s too gentle,” you whispered.

to your surprise, jeno didn’t look at you like you had fifty heads. he actually seemed amused. jeno cocked his head, a smiling tugging at his lips, and asked, “and you like it rough?”

you nodded. to say the least.

“have you communicated that with him?”

“i mean, no. but i have my reasons. how am i supposed to go up to him and tell him the reason i’m not cumming is because he’s not fucking me within an inch of my life?”

jeno chuckled. “my boy is a softie when in love,” he said.

exasperated, you leaned your head against jeno’s shoulder and groaned, “exactly. and i feel like an idiot for complaining about that of all things. he’s literally doing everything right. even if i did tell him, i seriously don’t even think he’s capable of hurting me on purpose.”

“i mean, how rough do you like it?” jeno’s question didn’t strike you as anything but an attempt to be helpful. “do you like getting spanked?”

“yes,” you said frankly.

“slapped?”

“yes.”

“hair pulling?”

“that’s the least extreme think i like.”

“flogging?”

“okay, now you’re crossing a line,” you said. that was a bit too extreme.

jeno threw up his hands. “hey, you’re the freak, not me.”

you frowned. you were thinking about mark again. he was the perfect boyfriend. maybe you should’ve let him go so he could find somebody that could appreciate him and all his efforts to show his girlfriend love, but you were too selfish for that. you threw jeno a glance. “do you think i’m crazy?”

jeno shook his head. “no, i think there’s a line between pain and pleasure. for some of us it’s thinner than it is for others. for some of us it’s larger,” he said, a little more sober than you expected.

which made you think. it wasn’t very often that you ranted about your life problems to jeno, though whenever you did, he always proved himself to be a good listener and good at giving you sound advice (no matter how inconsequential your problems might’ve seemed).

then, your attention flitted elsewhere, eyes at his bulging biceps. you were too in your head to really notice that he had his arm around you, and mark surely didn’t send you over here to snuggle with his best friend. you didn’t fail to notice that jeno was muscular because you weren’t blind and he made no attempt to hide it, the opposite rather, always proudly flaunting his physique. but this was the first time you were having thoughts that you probably shouldn’t.

you called, “jeno?”

“hm?”

“do you think mark would encourage me to seek out somebody else if he couldn’t fulfill my needs, or would he want to work through it?”

now that was the million dollar question. on the one hand, your question was not lost on jeno and he saw dead through you. you had been less than discreetly checking him out. but on the other, you were mark’s girl and it was the proper thing to do to give you an honest response. “both,” jeno told you, honest as could be. “because he wants you to be happy more than anything, but i know the second he let a pretty little thing like you go, he would lose his mind.”

your cheeks got warm. jeno just called me pretty, you thought. then, you instantly chided yourself. mark called you pretty too. and you liked it. the only reason you were getting excited because of jeno doing it was because there was a chance he could be the one to satisfy those cravings lurking inside you.

jeno cocked his head. “do you want me to help you?”

“help me how?”

“with that problem of yours,” he said, amused that you were playing dumb. as if you weren’t giving him those eyes only a moment ago. “girls always tell me i’m the right amount of rough.”

you gawked. “are you offering to have sex with me?”

jeno shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. to be honest, he had wanted you for a while now, but again, you were mark’s girl. “somebody’s gotta do it. i wouldn’t mind.”

you hated that you were actually considering it. your thighs tingled with excitement, wanting it more than anything. but your boyfriend never once left your mind. “what about mark?”

“he’ll be glad it’s just me instead of somebody else,” jeno said confidently.

“you say that like mark himself told you that.”

jeno shrugged again. “it’s a yes or a no, princess.”

you mulled it over. this was a very, very stupid idea. and an egregious mistake in the making. but when you were thinking with your pussy instead of your head, all rational thoughts were completely off the table.

“yes,” you said, your better judgement clouded.

jeno smirked, satisfied with your answer. and lifted you into his burly arms, ignoring how you cried out in surprise while he carried you to his bedroom. you had no time to recover before he threw you against his mattress, wasting no time to climb on top of you and pull at your clothes with a vengeance. and you let him, because you were inclined to let jeno do whatever he wanted to you right now.

forget the consequences. you would worry about that part later.

you heard fabric tear and gawked in surprise when you realized jeno had torn your underwear off, sitting up to look at him, only to be roughly forced down your back again. he leaned directly over you, searching your face with fire smoldering in his sharp eyes. “i’m not mark. you’re not going to have your way with me. you’re going to lie down and take what i give you,” he hissed, voice low but clear as ever.

all you could do was nod. the words were sucked out of you. your throat had gone dry. and your muscles were painfully stiff. for now.

satisfied, jeno crept back down your body, positioning himself between your thighs. he ran his fingers over your folds and chuckled. you were already so wet from nothing at all. he didn’t intend to prep you very much, but pushed his fingers in and out of your pussy merely to feel how tight it wrapped around them. you impatiently whimpered out his name, clearly needy, and earned yourself a solid slap to the cunt.

you immediately squeezed your thighs back together, letting out another, more agonized noise, but jeno yanked them back apart just as quickly and your strength was no match for his, keeping your legs spread even as he smacked you a second time.

“jeno,” you whimpered again, tears bundling together in your lashes. you had chosen a godawful day to wear mascara.

jeno was completely unfazed, opening his bedside drawer to rummage around for a condom and held it up, cocking his brow at you. “condom or no condom?”

“are you clean?”

“yep,” said jeno. “i got tested a couple of weeks ago.”

“then, please fuck me raw,” you begged, throbbing at the thought. even when mark came inside you, you almost found it better than the sex itself.

jeno tossed the condom to the side with a chuckle and stepped out of his boxers, which made your jaw slacken. you had seen the imprint of his dick only moments prior and had tried your best to pretend like it didn’t bother you, but the sight of his hard cock standing tall against his stomach was enough to make you cry. jeno cocked his brow at you again, snickering to himself, and lined himself up at your entrance.

the wind was knocked out of you. good god he’s packing.

you sucked in a breath when jeno forced his way inside you, tears rolling down your cheeks at how much he stretched you out. you couldn’t even take all of it at once, but jeno would make you, ignoring the whimpers you cried as he stuffed you to the hilt. his brows scrunched together, fingers clawing into your hips to anchor himself with how deep he was inside you, and you swallowed every deliciously guttural sound that left his lips.

then, jeno had a brief lull of indecision, and pulled back out to roughly flip you over, just to penetrate you again just as quickly once you scrambled on your hands and knees. “fuck,” you whined, filling once more a surreal fusion of pain and pleasure.

jeno had told you there was a thin line between pain and pleasure. and as far as you were concerned, he had never been more right.

jeno, hands at your hips, asked huskily, “does it hurt?”

you bobbed your head, unable to stop the flow of tears. but i love it, you added in your head.

jeno was satisfied. “good,” he replied smugly.

never had you felt so full. you could feel him in the pit of your stomach and it was driving you mad. jeno had no intention of letting you adjust to his size either, already brutally smacking his hips against yours with a vengeance.

you let out a noise when jeno gripped your jaw, abruptly lifting up your tear-stained face. “look at yourself,” he growled, forcing you to look into the mirror across from his bed. no wonder he made you change positions. “shame you ruined all that pretty makeup with those tears.”

you looked a damn mess and it didn’t help that you had jeno rutting into you from behind, making you lose any and all sense of order you still had. jeno loved how helpless you looked. all you could do was lie there and take it, and you could barely even do that. when you tried to look away, he forced your face back where he wanted it, chin between his fingers, and said darkly, “i don’t like to repeat myself. look at yourself. i want you to watch yourself get fucked by your boyfriend’s friend because you can’t get off to being fucked normally.”

that made your walls clamp around him, and consequently a deep howl escaped jeno. it was criminal how sexy he sounded, and the more you pleasured him, the rougher his hands got on your body. you could already feel the bruises at your hips that would probably take weeks to completely fade.

a certain sharp thrust made you whimper and hang your head, singing out his name. jeno slapped your cheek and the sting went straight to your cunt, making you clench around him. you brought your head back to the mirror, remembering you were supposed to be watching yourself, though you were tempted to glance off just so that he would hit you again.

jeno shook his head when he felt you clench around him, chuckling to himself. he smacked his palm against your face again for amusement, just to see you soak in the pain. “you’re so pathetic, you know that?” he asked, followed by a laugh. “need to get roughed up to get off?”

you whined, “please…”

“please what?” jeno asked, in spite of knowing damn well what you wanted. but he wanted to hear you say it. he wanted you to hear how pathetic you sounded.

you bit your lip. was he really going to make you say it? “please hit me,” you whispered.

jeno hummed, furrowing his brows in mock confusion. “kiss you?”

you shook your head and cried, “jeno, please hit me again.”

satisfied, jeno gripped your jaw in his fingers to keep it in place as he forced you to look in the mirror, then slapped your cheeks a couple of times. “is that hard enough for you, baby?”

“harder,” you whimpered.

jeno laughed.

jeno kept hitting you and throwing you around, whispering the cruelest of words in your ear and telling you how disgusting you were for liking getting roughed up. it should have humiliated you, but it also brought you closer to climax in record time.

jeno wasn’t far behind you, because you kept tightening around him every every degrading word and violent touch, and it drove him mad with lust. not a single part of him was worried about mark right now, and from the looks of it, you had forgotten about your boyfriend too, completely absorbed in how jeno was hitting you in all the right places. literally.

face to face with climax, jeno gripped your hair, pulling it back. you whined, but jeno merely nibbled at your ear before saying, “i’m gonna cum in this tight little pussy and you’re gonna take every drop.”

“yes, please,” you replied, not opposed at all. “fill me up, jeno. please.”

“fuck,” jeno groaned, slapping his hips into yours even harsher. you were so fucking perfect that he was tempted to steal you from mark and make you his bitch. and he might have already done that without even trying.

with a couple more hits, you were unraveling around jeno and it triggered his own orgasm. he came inside you with a grunt and leaned over you to clamp his teeth into your shoulder, trying to smother his own sounds. you, on the other hand, couldn’t control the noises that left you, moaning and shaking harder than ever as your climax got the best of you.

jeno pulled out, sated, and watched you crumble on his sheets, chest heaving. “good?” he asked.

you nodded, still trying to catch your breath. and clear your mind. “yeah,” you croaked, blinking. “thank you.”

jeno snickered. “any time. i can tell you needed it.”

damn right, you thought.

you cleaned yourself up and as if nothing had happened, jeno thanked you for the tiramisu before you headed home to mark. before you got in the car, you grabbed your phone to let him know you were on the way back, and were thrown for a loop when you saw what time it was, plus the missed texts you had from your boyfriend. you had completely loss track of time.

when you stepped inside the house, mark was in the living room watching the amazing spider-man 2, and immediately turned around when he heard the door unlocking. “babe,” he said, leaping up to hug you. “i missed you.”

“i wasn’t gone that long,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around your boy. he felt safe. “but i missed you too.”

mark never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t, but there was a little frown on his face when he murmured into your neck, “you smell like jeno.”

you swallowed. “well, i was at jeno’s house. where jeno lives.”

“you were there for a while.”

“yeah, well,” you started, guilt suddenly blindsiding you. “you know how jeno is. can never say hi and bye and be done. he always has to start a conversation.”

“sounds like him,” mark said, nodding. “did he at least like the tiramisu?”

“of course he did. he’s jeno.”

mark chuckled. “wanna watch gwen stacy die for the billionth time with me?”

you frowned. “only if we watch andrew save tom’s mj right after,” you replied.

“deal.”

the two of you ran to the couch, and you pushed your guilt to the back of your heart as you snuggled in your boyfriend’s arms, trying desperately to forget what you just did to him.

“babe, i’m gonna go make us some popcorn,” mark said, slowly backing away from you.

you sent him off with a nod, smiling and flitting your gaze back to the television screen.

in the kitchen, mark opened the pantry and slid his phone from his pockets to open his text messages. how’d it go?

how do you think?

mark rolled his eyes. she’s glowing. what did you do?

it’s not that hard, mark. all you gotta do is slap her around a little.

mark poked out his head, watching you with your eyes fixated to the screen. i’ll keep that in mind, he replied back.

there was no reply and mark’s phone didn’t buzz until the microwave beeped. still on for friday?

you bet.

#nct dream smut #mark lee smut #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct hard hours #mark lee scenarios #jeno scenarios #nct x reader #tw: cheating #revehae fics

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 8 months

Text

gaming with him

(cw: they play a shooter video game (might contain inaccuracies); age gap 25/41, nsfw, MDNI, smutty smutt with some butt stuff, bit of spanking; evolving their dynamic a little more)

the part before: talking on the phone

Ding dong.

Oh, that must be him. I put the ladle down and hurry to the front door. I open it up and his tall stature is filling the whole doorframe. His broad shoulders, the worn leatherjacket almost brushing the sides.

“Hi.”, he says, smiling at me, his long dark hair falling to the front as he looks down at me.

“Hi.”, I smile up at him and step to the side to let him in.

He almost hits his head when he steps through the door, the top of his hair brushing even as he ducks down. “Ah shit.”, he curses, and I laugh, before I get cut off by his lips on mine. A short, but big kiss.

“Sorry, my apartment isn’t made for giants.”, I say, as I close the door behind him.

He pulls of his shoes, the huge combat boots falling to the floor, before he puts them neatly on the shoe rack.

“I noticed that. Your bed is so tiny, last time I actually hit my head when I woke up.”, he tells me, a jokingly pouty grimace contorting his serious features.

“Awww, you need me to put a kiss on it?.”, I say, teasing him.

But he actually bows down until I see the top of his head. I laugh again, grabbing his face, coming closer to press my lips to his hair with his loud smooch.

“Better now?”, I ask, when he straightens back up.

“Much better.”, he says, shedding the leatherjacket, hanging it up right next to mine.

“Any other body parts you need kissed better?”, I tease him. And I half suspect him to just whip his dick out. I mean, I wouldn’t mind.

“Doncha know it.”, is all he says, while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes, not being able to stop grinning. "Come on, big guy. I uh- actually cooked for us. I hope, that's okay.", I say.

He shoots me an amused look. "You cooked, how dare you.", he jokes with a serious expression on his face, following me to my kitchenette where the pasta is still bubbling away on the stove.

"No, it's uh veggie bolognese, so we can both eat it. I made it, so it has a bunch of protein, though.", I explain.

His hand strokes over my back until it rests against my waist, as he stops beside me. "I won't crumble into bits, if I don't have all of the macronutrients perfectly balanced for one meal. So, don't worry about that, okay?", he tells me.

I nod. "Okay.", giving the sauce another stir.

"Thanks for cooking for me.", he says.

I beam up at him. "You're welcome."

When the pasta is ready, I fix us two plates, a BIG portion for him and a smaller one for me, and we sit at the little table in my living room, that I barely use to eat at. Most of the days I just have dinner in front of my computer.

Mimi is not leaving him alone, the little minx totally enamored with the huge man, sitting on his lap while he eats. I offer to take her off his hands, but he refuses. The big metalhead with the black kitty that almost doesn’t show up against his dark clothes. Patting the small purring ball of fur, his big, tattooed fingers scratching her head, while he shovels the pasta into his face with the other one. It’s a picture for the gods. I lift my phone and snap a quick pic, his eyebrows shooting up at the same time as I press the shutter to save the moment.

After dinner I show him around my apartment which is done with a twirl around the main room and opening one door. I mean, he already knows the bedroom and the bath, so I don’t need to show them to him.

But I drag him into my “office” which is more like a hobby gaming room. It only has a desk and a bookshelf which isn’t anywhere near as impressive as his. He still inspects the books, his eyes lingering on my collection of classic romance novels and the anniversary edition of Lord of the Rings.

“I forgot the books I picked out at your place by the way.”, I comment.

“Pity.”, he says, shooting an amused look my way. “Seems like you have to drop by again someday.”

“Pity.”, I echo, grinning up at him.

He turns to look at me, sitting in my chair, and his gaze pans to the computer screen.

“So, games, huh?”, he asks, his voice sounding as vague as his question.

I chuckle. “Yeah, games.” I can see interest peek through the grimace on his face. “I have a lot. Too much, I can’t play them all. From Animal Crossing and Mario Kart, Baldur’s Gate and Witcher 3, to WoW, Counterstrike, ... Plus a bunch of strategy and puzzle games.”

“I don’t know what any of those games are, so you can tell me all about them.”, he says, leaning over the back of my chair.

“You never played any or just no shooter games?”, I ask him, recalling what we talked the night before on the phone.

He shrugs. “When I was younger, a friend of mine had a console where we played Super Mario, but yeah, didn’t have one of my own. Or a PC. And then later I didn’t really get into it anymore. You know, other stuff to do.”

“Yes, I see.”, I say, smiling up at him from my chair. “You wanna try?”

“Uh sure, but you gotta show me the controls.”, he answers.

I get up and let him take a seat. I want to scream (internally) when I see the big man in my gaming chair, his stature way too tall for one that is fitted to my size, almost bursting out of the seat. The backrest isn’t high enough to support his head. His thighs press against the armrests. It looks ridiculous, but he grins at me.

“So, Counterstrike? Or Animal Crossing?”, I quip, while I start the first game on my computer.

I put my headset on his head and show him how to move, the most important shortcuts. How to aim and shoot. And the ridiculous nature of our situation right now is everything but lost on me. I let him try the shooting range first, instead of queueing up for a match, I’m not a total monster.

He looks at the screen, inspecting all of the pistols and rifles. Starting to list stuff off as he goes through them, talking more than I ever heard him talk before. I just listen to him rambling like a madman who finally gets to talk about his hyperfixation as he explains the differences of the various types and models, the recoil, the spray. All the stuff I never bothered with when playing those games.

He finally found a few that are to his liking, and he chooses one of them.

Actually playing the game though? He fails miserably. Running into everything, like a bull in a china shop. He’s just aimlessly pressing buttons, his big fingers hitting more than one key on the keyboard all the time. If it was possible, he would have knocked everything over.

His shot? You couldn’t even call that aim. My small computer mouse is too small for his big hand, the sensitivity too high for him. I dial it down a bit, which helps, and I try to coach him through it, telling him which buttons to press, but I can see that frustration sets in.

“Come on, you almost had it there.”, I cheer him on, as he misses another one of the targets.

He grabs me and pulls me into his lap. "You play, I'm better at this stuff in real life." and puts the headset on my head.

"Wait, I’m not sure the chair can support both our weight!", I say.

But he doesn't let go of me, letting his head rest on my shoulder and pulling me closer. "If it breaks, I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he grumbles.

"You mean like the panties you ruined?”, I ask pointedly, hiding a little grin. The panties he ripped while we were fucking and never replaced.

“Uh, maybe.”, he answers, his face contorting into an apologizing grimace.

I laugh a little at that. “I’m just teasing you.”, I say. Pushing the one side of the headphones back to hear him better.

I adjust the height of the seat and come closer to the desk again. His one arm snakes around my waist, while his other hand strokes down my thigh. The fingers softly squeezing the supple flesh. I try not to let it deter me, as I queue up for a new match.

I shoot him a look, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor as his thumb softly strokes over my inner thigh. The only hint that he's totally doing that on purpose, is the little twitch of his mouth.

The match loads up, and I look forward again. Choosing my weapons, waiting for the time to count down.

I wait for the teammates to spread out, following one of them down A. Trying to concentrate on the game while I can feel his hand inching further up, closer to my pussy. Teasing. Grazing over it, with his fingertips.

My breath halts in my throat, and I bite my lip not to make a sound. Not giving into it, not giving him the satisfaction.

I see the enemy duck behind the wall, lining up the rifle, waiting for his head to pop up again. A moment before I take the shot, his fingers stroke over my clit, pressing down on the sensitive nub. A choked back moan drops from my lips, and I lose my focus. I miss the shot entirely, cursing, dropping my cover and getting mowed down by another enemy teammate. He chuckles, pressing soft kisses to the side of the face, moving down to my neck.

"Seems like you got hit.", he murmurs, his hot mouth coasting over the soft skin, which sends shivers down my spine. I squirm against his lap, feeling his hard length press against my ass.

The next round starts up and he nudges me. "Come on, Liebes, it's starting again."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I groan, moving with his touches, while trying to play the game.

"You can do it.", he whispers, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. His huge hand, the one that has been sitting on my waist, slips under my shirt, until he reaches my tits. Pulling down the bra a bit and toying with my nipple. Stroking over it with his thumb, making it stiffen up. Rolling the pebbled tip between his fingertips. Pinching it. His other hand circles my clit, still over the cloth of the leggings, and I feel how my wetness seeps into my panties.

I whine and bite down on my lip, my eyes fixed on the screen, trying to find the enemies. But honestly, right now, I'm just glad, I didn't get the package, because my mind is distracted by his teasing touches.

It gets even worse to focus on the game when his fingers slip into my pants, down to my already soaked underwear. He hums softly as he strokes over the puffy wet lips, his digits sliding further down until they push inside me. Just one at first, then quickly the second.

“I have a confession.”, he whispers, the voice dark and needy, as he works himself inside me slowly, stretching me.

“What confession?”, I ask, sounding breathy.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about sinking my fingers into your warm, wet pussy again.”, he drawls, being knuckle-deep inside me now. “Especially after hearing yourself do it yesterday. Knowing that you were fucking yourself with your fingers… Getting off to my voice...”

“You liked that?”, I breathe, needing to hear it, while in reality I can barely stay sane right now.

“Yes.”, the answer more a growl than the actual word.

I can’t hold back the moans any longer and his soft hums against my neck are killing me, while he presses kisses to it, and the motions of his fingers pressing into me are not helping at all.

"König, please, I-", I start, but I break off when he strokes over the sensitive spot deep inside.

"Hm, what do you mean, Liebes?", he says.

"More, more.", I sigh. My hips move of their own volition, searching for more friction.

He chuckles, the deep cocky sound, so close to my ear sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, I don't think I can ever get enough of that. "What do you want me to do, Fräulein?", he asks, puffs of air hitting the shell of my ear. "More of what?"

I groan, a little bit, between trying to play the game and his teasing, my body and mind and torn in two. His fingers stop moving inside me, and I whimper. On the one hand I can focus better now, on the other hand I just want him. Need him. To do me.

"Come on, you can tell me.", he drawls, his voice low and soft.

"I-" The words won't come out of my mouth. I can imagine it, I have the pictures right in front of my eyes. But the words... Saying it out loud is another thing.

It even had been easier yesterday on the phone. Or when we texted. A simple “yes, please”, a small comment here and there. Teasing him a little. But fully voicing my thoughts… I don’t know why I am having a hard time with it.

“You can tell me what you want me to do, just say the words and I'll do it.”, he promises, pressing his cheek against mine.

Another round starts up and I'm already getting flamed in chat. But all my brain can think about is all the stuff I want him to do. His other hand is softly caressing my hips and thigh, while his fingers are still inside me. Not moving on their own.

"I don't know.", I finally whisper, running down one of the corridors and getting eliminated. Again. I sigh, slumping into him. His warm scent engulfs me, his huge pecs are my soft pillow.

"I know that you like it when I take control. But I also wanna hear from you. I want to know what you want.", he explains, his voice gentle. "What you like, what you don't like, what you fantasize about." He makes it all seem so... easy. Normal. No big deal. “Yesterday on the phone… I liked how you told me what you wanted.”, he adds.

It was easier, lying in my own bed, engulfed by darkness. His deep sultry voice and my own thoughts the only company. Now in the light of day, sitting here, right in his lap – while still playing a video game or at least trying… It is a completely different scenario. But I know what I want, I just need to tell him.

I swallow, once, and then I just blurt it out: "I want you to bend me over the desk and just eat me out from behind." Breathless and meek, but I said it out loud. See, it wasn’t that hard, right?

It is all I can think about right now. The memories of how he ate me out like that when I was bent over the bar are plaguing me and I just need him to do it again.

The sound coming from his throat, low and gravelly, is sending a pang of need straight between my thighs and my pussy clenches around his fingers. "Good girl.", he whispers. Oh, his voice does something to me.

He doesn’t wait and just gets up, pulling me up with him, until we both stand. Bending me over the desk, just like I said I wanted him to, so my forearms rest on the surface, my hands still on my keyboard and mouse. I can feel his erection pressing against me, as he positions me, his fingers slipping out of my pussy and his hands grabbing the waistband of my pants.

"Like this, hm?", he asks, and pulling them down. The panties must go as well, of course.

"Yes, just like that.", I whisper. Still a little... shy? No, that's not the right word. “Maybe kneeling behind me?”, I suggest, my voice barely audible.

He drops to his knees in an instant, his hands on my asscheeks. His fingertips are digging into them, pulling them apart, and I can feel my own wetness against the skin that still coats his fingers.

“For you, always.”, he drawls, huffs of air hitting the wet skin of my exposed pussy with every word. He just presses his face against me, licking me like a starved man. His tongue dips into me, he’s fucking me with it. Lapping up my juices.

And all I can do is take it while my eyes turn up and I can’t even really see the screen anymore. It seems like I failed miserably at actually playing the game.

He pulls back a bit, his lips brushing over me. “You have another round to play.”, he grumbles. The game is long lost for me and my teammates, and I can’t focus on it anyways, so I just let go of my mouse and keyboard.

“I can’t. I- Fuck.” My words turn into moans, when he licks up, dragging his tongue over my pussy. “I give up.”

He chuckles, the soft sound sending a shiver through me, before he repeats the move from, the tip of his tongue drawing a trail up, until he almost reaches my other hole. My eyes widen and my spine stiffens up. Would he…?

“You like that? When I play with your ass?”, he asks, his voice so close and deep, puffs of air coasting over the sensitive skin when he is speaking.

My breath hitches in my throat, the blunt dirty words making me choke up, but I answer: “I- I like it, yeah.”

“Good, cause I like it too.”, he says.

He pulls back a bit and spits, the filthy noise making my cheeks heat up. I can feel his saliva hit my puckered hole, the wetness dripping down a bit, before he catches it with his hand.

His fingers are softly massaging, the light touches sending zaps of pleasure through me, until he dips into me, the stretch of just one digit making me almost lose my mind.

He dives in again, his finger matching the rhythm of his tongue dipping into my pussy. And then his mouth drops down further until his lips close around my clit, sucking, gentle at first before it gets more intense. The sensations catapult me over the edge, and I come hard against his face. He doesn’t stop eating me out as I rub myself on him, feeling the tip of his nose nudge against my wet folds. Same with the roughness of his 5 o’clock shadow. Fuck, I’m really losing my mind over here.

"Please, fuck me, I need you to fuck me hard.", I sigh, throwing all my reservations out the window.

"Did anybody ever tell you that you beg so prettily?", he growls, I can feel the vibration against the sensitive skin of my pussy. Fuck, I just want him to do that again.

He gets up from the floor and a condom out of his wallet, and I hear him unbuckling his belt, the clang of metal telling me so. By now it has become quite the recurring theme, me trying to break his concentration while he puts on the condom. Shimmying my hips. Rolling my ass back into his lap. Teasing him to make him pound me even harder.

I’m putting my all into it today – a little pay back for how he distracted me while playing. I slowly move back and forth, until the swell of my butt hits his thighs, as he rips the foil packet open and rolls the rubber down on his dick.

He tuts. “Needy.” The word is a reprimanding growl while he spanks my ass. Once. Another little tradition that makes me giggle, relishing the faint sting of the slap. His fingers grip the supple flesh, his hips rutting forward, and I sigh. He lines himself up, slipping inside, just the tip. My breath halts in anticipation, I wait for him to push into me, stretch me around his dick. But he doesn’t.

I look back at him, turning my head, craning my neck. The big man is towering over me, behind me, just standing there. His hand still on my ass. And his gaze on my face.

The tip of his mouth tips up, the smirk getting wider. "Fuck yourself back. Come on.", he says, and he chuckles when he sees the expression on my face. “What? You moved your hips so prettily, just a few moments ago. You can do it.”

I groan, but the imagination alone and his little coaxing order make me even hotter. I push myself onto his dick, until my ass hits his lap. Deep, so deep. Pulling back again and feeling every inch of him slip out of me.

“But I asked for you to fuck me.”, I whine.

“Yeah, and then you had to be bratty.”, he answers. “Trying to tease me.” His voice deepens. “And brats don’t get what they want.”

Well, it seems like I did that to myself. I sigh deeply and start to move again. I can feel the wetness seep out of me when my ass hits his lap over and over again, making a total mess of him.

He doesn’t do anything, he’s just standing there, watching me fuck myself on his dick. I can feel his heated gaze on me as I bounce on him, my motions getting smoother, finding a rhythm that is driving us both crazy. Stretching my pussy around his girth, colliding with him, an immovable wall of muscle. A very turned-on immovable wall of muscle, judging by the soft groans that drop from his lips.

His hand grabs my buttcheek, squeezing a bit, before he spanks me again. That little move spurs me on, pushing myself back harder. But it doesn’t have the same impact as when he does it.

I just want more.

“König?”

“Yes, Liebes?”

His hand comes down on my ass once more, the palm colliding with the supple pillow, and the sound it makes fills the room. My hips stutter and he almost slips out of me when a shiver shakes my body.

“Please, fuck, I need you to do me.”, I beg, sliding onto his dick again, stopping as he’s seated deep inside me. I look back at him, catching my breath a bit.

“Will you be good then? Next time?”, he asks, pushing some of his hair back that’s falling over his face.

“I will, yes.”, I breathe.

“Good.”, he growls, his hands grabbing me, while he starts to pound into me. He pulls my hips back into him, packing a punch to his thrusts. The slaps of skin against skin are loud and almost obscene, intermingling with the moans that get pulled from my lips when he bottoms me out.

My whole body gets shaken, the surface that I’m still holding onto moving with every push. My headphones get shaken off my head, tumbling onto the desk. The clank of plastic hitting plastic resounds when they fall onto the keyboard. But I don’t care about that right now.

The tip of his dick hitting me deep inside floods me with arousal, my mind filled with hazy pleasure. It doesn't take long, a few hard deep strokes, and my thighs start to shake. I actually have a hard time keeping myself up. My legs buckle, but his arms steady me, as I cum around his dick.

“Fuck, Liebes.”, he groans. “Squeezing me so tight.” The last word drops out when he comes as well, pushing into me one last time, his groin colliding with my ass. I slump down and sigh, my cheek resting on my arm, as I relish the last waves of my subsiding orgasm.

He pulls back, pulls out of me, and I still just stand there, bent over my desk. Naked from the waist down, while he only got his dick out. I breathe in and out, trying to pull myself together, slowly straightening up.

He’s already gotten rid of the condom, zipping himself up again, when I turn around to put my arms around him. He leans down and gives me a kiss, a long overdue one, his hand stroking down my back, while I snuggle into him.

The waistband and lap of his jeans are a tiny bit sticky with my wetness, I can feel it as I’m pressed up against him like that. He doesn’t care in the least bit, sitting down in my chair again and pulling me into his lap. Softly playing with my hair, basking in the little comfortable silence.

“You okay?”, he asks then, pushing some strands back, brushing them out of my face, while his eyes search for mine.

“Yes. I probably got reported by my mates, but that was totally worth it.”, I answer, grinning at him.

He laughs and presses another kiss to my lips. “Yeah, sorry about that.”, he says, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be.”, I tell him, and I can tell by the look on his face that he is in fact not.

"So, what are those animals and why do they keep crossing?", he asks me out of the blue. I burst into laughter, almost falling off his lap. Still laughing a bit, I get the controller and start up my Switch to show him the villagers on my five-star island, while I snuggle against his chest and he wraps his arms around me.

next part: breaking the bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: @kathy-ifnt planted the idea for such a scene in my mind and i just had to do it... i played some CS but not a lot, generally i'm more of an RPG/WoW girlie, but i didn't wanna make you sit through me explaining how to heal a dungeon run, lol also tried to evolve their dynamic a little more explicitely... stay tuned <3 and thanks for reading as always <3

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 months

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Humble request for a bottom villain x top hero where the villain struggles with insomnia, and out of desperation (and mayhaps horniness), suggests that the hero “help” them fall asleep, if you catch my drift ;) An extra helping of spice with that, thank ye!

“When did it start?” the hero asked. They took off the villain’s shirt and pressed a wet kiss to the villain’s neck.

They could be quite straightforward when they wanted to be. The villain welcomed the candor, they found it quite refreshing when the hero told them a plan was full of logical errors or that the villain’s actions were unacceptable.

“Like…” The villain tried to think but it was getting more difficult with the hero levelling their weight on the villain’s hips and leaving a path of kisses up their neck. “…fuck, I don’t know. Like, two months ago?”

The hero paused with the kisses and looked at the villain with a hint of a frown on their face.

“Two months?” they asked. The villain could see their chest heave rhythmically and it was, stupidly, demanding a little too much attention.

“Yeah…”

“Help me with your pants, will you?”

“Oh—okay—” The villain didn’t even have enough energy to be excited. They were exhausted but couldn’t sleep. At this point, they were used to turning and tossing in their bed. It was an actual punishment and although they believed they deserved this to some degree, it slowly began to turn into a cruel and violent thing.

A part of them had already lost all hope of getting a good night's sleep.

Headaches accompanied them all day. They couldn’t eat, they had troubles with their vision. They had tried most things the internet had told them to: physical activity, an optimised work schedule, balanced nourishment. Nothing had worked so far and they refused to see a doctor.

Once their pants were off, the villain felt even more incompetent than when they had suggested all of this.

“Are you nervous?” the hero asked and when the villain looked up at them, they looked quite concerned.

Hell, the hero could be so kind.

“I’m fine,” the villain lied.

“Do you have any preferences?” The hero touched the villain’s naked chest gently and instinctively, the villain took in a deep breath. They preferred to swallow their moans. That was pathetic to some degree but unfortunately, it had become a habit.

Sometimes, it was even astonishing to the villain how little their self-confidence was.

“I don’t think so, no…” It probably meant nothing to the hero. It was probably like a job to them or maybe they were even using the villain for their own benefits — the villain wasn’t sure and they were actually terrified this would turn out to be very painful.

But they were undeniably desperate. Desperate for something to actually work, desperate for rest that lasted more than two hours.

"To be clear, we are taking this very slow," the hero said. Their voice was soft, softer than it should have been.

"Hm?" the villain asked. They hadn't realized how hard their fingers were digging into the hero's waist.

"Well...it's our first time together, so we shouldn't rush it." The villain couldn't believe that the hero was actually blushing. Usually, figuring out the hero's true feelings was an entire puzzle game.

"But isn't quick and rough more, I don't know, appropriate for our relationship?" the villain asked. At least, that was what they had expected - something purely physical that had no other feelings attached.

The villain wouldn't have minded.

"Oh, I..." The hero scratched the back of their neck. "I actually thought it would be more helpful if it was a little more ardent. I mean, considering your condition, you really need to rest and I guess it could help your body more if you were actually really into it. And, uh...if, you know, we are more intimate, we could take our time to communicate more and you can tell me what you like and what you dislike and if we take it slow, you can really get used to it and...I'm gonna be honest, two months is really bad."

The villain stared at the hero, eyes wide. Were they actually losing their mind or had they just heard more words coming out of the hero's mouth than they had thought to be possible?

"Wait, are you saying you don't want to or you can't or...?" The villain blinked several times. God, it was so frustrating to be so slow with their thoughts.

The villain felt like they could actively tell whenever a brain cell of them died.

"No, darling, I..." The hero put their flat hand on the villain's naked chest, right where their heart was. The hero's fingers were so warm against their chest that it was actually very pleasant. "I knew you struggled but I didn't know this started two months ago. I could have helped you sooner. Two months is actually fucked up and I don't know if I can really help you."

"Oh..." The hero raised their hands, suddenly alarmed.

"Of course I will try but you should see a doctor nonetheless." They took the villain's hands and pressed soft kisses against the villain's knuckles. "Also, I don't want your money."

"Are you sure?" the villain whispered.

"Very sure." The hero bent over and pinned the villain's wrists above their head. There wasn't much space between them anymore, in fact, the villain's lips were nearly brushing against the hero's. And it seemed to the villain like their enemy was hesitating.

If the villain's brain had functioned properly, they would have probably come to a very convincing and quick explanation as for why the hero was acting like that. Blushing. Talking a lot. Hesitating.

But the villain had all the clues in front of them and couldn't connect them.

"Ready when you are," the villain said and the hero only nodded quickly.

It was quite different from what the villain was used to. They had never considered themselves to be a good lover. Most of their relationships had crashed like a car - quickly and painfully. Hence, they had rather told themselves to concentrate on themselves first.

But for some reason, the hero made them feel a little better about themselves. Their sweet and innocent kisses only slowly evolved into something more passionate and carnal.

A few times, the hero parted from them to moan the villain's name or to kiss their body.

And then, the villain couldn't really explain it, they actually got tired. They supposed it was the warmth and the intimacy. They supposed it was the hero's sweet voice and their kind words. For a while, they fought it. They tried to concentrate on the hero but it was getting more difficult by the second.

It was something so strange and foreign, yet so comforting that only for a second, the villain thought they had completely lost it. They managed to wrap their arms around the hero and reply with lazy kisses, even though the hero was doing most of the work.

For the first time, they felt truly at peace. It was quite impossible. They felt safe, they felt protected. It wasn't like they had been more stressed than usual or that they had felt unsafe at home.

But the hero who was gentle and kind really gave something within the villain the kind of solace that they didn't know they had needed.

The villain allowed themselves to close their eyes and relax for a second.

"Are you okay?" the hero whispered. They kissed the villain's forehead but the villain didn't open their eyes.

"Yeah...yeah, just...gimme a sec." The hero raked through their hair and that was the last thing the villain could recall.

#I hope both of them die #what am I talking about I am the writer I can kill them off easily #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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nomazee · 1 year

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open up

sebastian (sdv) x reader

word count: 3.5k

content: silly love again, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, some goofs and giggles and misunderstandings, the teeniest tiniest inkling of angst but it’s covered up with silliness, the word hussy is used which is the funniest word ever and i’m so glad i discovered it it’s so old-timey-small-town word

notes: this is a part three to my little mini series w sebastian! you can find part one here, and part two here!

oh hey guys this is probably completely indecipherable but i’ve been rewriting this over and over again this past week and decided that this is my most proudest version of this work and maybe there will be more but this... is IT (i’m lying and will be writing more companion pieces to this okay much love love all of u mwah)

<><><><><>

Hiding from your problems does not fix everything. In fact, it doesn’t fix anything.

It’s a lesson you should’ve figured out the first time you did it. You remember being back in grade school, forgetting to study for a test one year and faking a rash in the nurse’s office to get out of it. The rash in question was a collection of the healing, scabbed-over cat scratches on your forearm. You’d drawn over it harshly with dark red pen and marker to create some kind of rash-like illusion. In the end all you got was a disappointed look from the nurse, an ugly smear of red and burgundy on your arm, and a D-minus on your world history test.

So, yes. Hiding has dreadful consequences. And even just during your time in Stardew Valley, you should’ve known to keep this lesson close to your heart. This is the second time you’ve run away from Sebastian already, and the first time didn't last long anyways. Stupid, silly you.

In your defense, it wasn’t really Sebastian you were running away from. It was his mom. For three days following your stupid kissing shenanigans, Robin terrorized your dreams, and your daydreams, and the reflections of yourself that you saw in the tiny pond on your farm…

So, yes it’s safe to say that running away was not doing you any good. But what other choice did you have?

You’re an adult. You could totally scrape apart what’s left of your dignity and act like it—maybe take the walk up to the mountains and apologize to Robin and Sebastian, too. Tell them that it was wrong of you to be so promiscuous on their front porch (promiscuous, of course, equating to one single kiss on the lips that lasted no more than ten seconds), and that you’d never do it again and never even look Sebastian in the eyes, if that’s what they wanted.

While you’re at it, maybe you’d be able to ask Robin for the coop upgrade that you’ve needed for weeks now. All you have to do is… be an adult and face your problems. Your one massive roadblock of a problem.

It’s not even a problem, per se. But you’ve embarrassed yourself far too much in front of the people in this town and you’re a little tired of taking blow after devastating blow to your reputation. You’d rather wilt and rot here, on the soil of your farm, with your duck walking her webbed feet across your chest and leaving damp marks all over your shirt.

This is peace. This is where you could die, decomposing in your leftover humiliation from the week before. But of course—all good things come to an end, and the end comes to you in the form of a distinct lack of wheat seeds in your storage containers.

Dreadful. This is a sign from some higher power that it’s finally time for you to get your ass up and go into town. Face the world like an adult. Get your wheat seeds so that you and your animals don’t starve to death and rot away on this already-rotting farm. Ugh.

Your duck pads up your chest and leans her face into yours. Her beady little eyes stare right into your soul. She’s begging you. Begging you to get wheat so her plump little body doesn’t start to deteriorate. What a manipulator.

A heavy, bone-rattling sigh escapes you as you gently push her off of you and sit up. This is it. You have to face everyone, again, after embarrassing yourself in front of the stupid boy you like and his mother, of all people. Fortunately for you, they live up in the mountains, so a little trip to PIerre’s in town wouldn’t be so much of a risk. You’d be fine. You could still be a functioning adult, so long as you didn't wander up north where the mines were.

…

Okay, well. You lied to yourself.

It was all a big lie. A big lie you told yourself to feel some kind of security about leaving your stupid, lonely farm and going into town and getting the stupid seeds that you needed. You’re a liar, a fraud, and a chronic-problem-avoider, and none of those problems would ever get fixed during your probably-very-short-lifespan. Short, of course, because you were going to die in the middle of Pierre’s shop, right here and right now in the produce aisle.

Because of course, as luck would have it, Sebastian is right there too. Staring at you. Holding two unshucked ears of corn, in his hands. You would laugh at how silly he looked if this wasn’t so humiliating.

“Um.” He’s the first to say anything. Hearing his voice after a week startles you enough to make you stiffen even more and your shaky hands threaten to drop the seed packets to the floor. His eyes are wide and there’s a flush to his cheeks that might be from the leftover chill of the outdoors. Despite everything, you hope maybe it’s because of you instead.

You can’t form words. Your mouth flutters open and closed like a trapdoor until you decide to keep them tightly shut. Devastating. Humiliating. Mortifying. There are so many words that you’ve used so often over the last two weeks that you could continue to use here. Your vocabulary is not very expansive in the slightest, but it’s not your fault you’ve been put in the same types of scenarios so often.

“Hello,” you choke out. Surprisingly, your voice is steady for the most part. The rest of you is not. The seeds rattle in your hands and you can feel your legs locked up. Anxiety floods through you like ice water and freezes in your bone marrow. You’re stuck. You might throw up. Again, this is a very common theme in every interaction you have with Sebastian. Very unfortunate.

Even more unfortunate is the fact that, despite all the embarrassment and chagrin and overall-horrifying matter of events, you still want to kiss him. You’re reliving the ten-second kiss from the last time you saw him and it’s making you enter some parallel universe in your head—one where his mom didn't catch you kissing, and where he liked you back and maybe let you sleep over his house like he said he would, and where you could kiss him even more. You’re getting whiplash from everything running through your head. God.

“I, um…” he clearly feels just as awkward, which does nothing to reassure you. “Haven’t seen you in a while. We thought you’d… show up to the saloon, or.” Sebastian cuts himself off early. He must realize by your completely unmoving form that you’re not planning on loosening up at all during the course of this conversation.

“Right, um,” you scramble for some kind of excuse but you know that regardless of what you say, he’s gonna know. He’s not gonna believe a single thing you say, because he knows. He was there. He was the one that you kissed.

There’s no way he’s not completely aware at this time. Totally and utterly aware that you’re indescribably in love with him, more than infatuated. He must know that you like him so much it makes your chest hurt and your head ache with the untamable need to kiss him stupid every time you see his face. He must know. You’d risked it all, laid it open on the table for him last week when you kissed him and he didn't do much with it, really, which was fine but—he must know. After all of this.

A thought rushes through your head and it immediately heats up the ice in your bones. You’re moving, now, this time at a pace that can only be achieved by spontaneous ferocity and a phobia of the mother of the boy you like. You’re quick to act, lunging forward and grabbing his arm to pull his entire form behind the shelf.

“Is your mom here?!” you whisper harshly at him. You didn't even think of it until now, the fact that he might be here with his mother and that would mean you’d have to face her not on your own terms. A confrontation would start up in the middle of this quiet, quaint little grocery store, and you’d have to yield and nod at an angry ginger woman as she called you a hussy, or something. Or— no, Robin wouldn’t call you a hussy. She was too nice for that. Pam would call you a hussy, probably. Well.

The distress in your voice must come out clearly enough for him because he frantically shakes his head and whispers back a definite no! It’s too late to reel you back in, though, and your mind is already going a million miles a minute. If you’re going to do anything, you have to do it now, because otherwise you will never speak a single word to this family ever again.

“You— Please tell your mom that I’m sorry, like so very very sorry, and I will give her so many of my crops and hardwood and stone to make up for everything. And—” you shush him when he tries to interrupt, talking over him rapidly to stop him from trying it again, “—I didn't mean to— or, I did mean— um, point is. Tell your mom. I’m so sorry. And that I really need a coop upgrade and I’ll pay her double what it normally is to make up for everything.” You pause. “Please.”

Sebastian is. Speechless. It’s not often that you see him like this—in fact, you don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him like this. His mouth flutters open and closed. Trapdoor, just like you, earlier. The shared traits between both of you make you want to throw up and scream. It’s too endearing and you want to rip your heart out before another situation happens just like last time, this time with Pierre as your witness.

“What…” he begins, “are you talking about?” The furrow in his brow is one of genuine confusion, and so is the high-pitched lilt of his questioning voice. It only serves to make you more confused. And more agitated because this is really really embarrassing and the heat of it is starting to settle on your face and neck.

“What. Do you think. I’m talking about.”

He obviously does not get the hint. He stays quiet, expression frustratingly unmoving as he blinks once, twice, three times at you. Holy shit.

“I’m not going to say it,” you tell him. Any kind of confidence you had going into this conversation has dissipated and melted into a gooey kind of embarrassment. Suddenly, you’re back in the grade school nurse’s office, flinching at the disappointed look she gives you as she writes you a pass back to class—back to your impending doom and the D-minus that awaits you. This is that. This is worse than that by ten— no, a thousand times.

“Are you five years old? What are you talking about, just say—!”

“You are so embarrassing.” You hiss at him, but there’s really no weight in your lackluster insult. It’s more of a half hearted attempt to get him to stop talking about everything and anything, at least until you get out of this goddamn store and maybe even this goddamn town where everyone likes to gossip.

You nearly tear the stupid ears of corn out of his stupid hands in your rush to get out of this store. “Are you— Is this the only thing you’re buying?” At his nod, you grab three more packets of miscellaneous seeds and start your rushed walk to the counter to check out.

“What are you doing?!” His voice is a frantic whisper, matching your tone, but it’s less aggravated and more just genuinely confused. Sebastian seems dazed, threaded into the spinning loom of your contagious anxiety. You feel bad about it, really, but you’re threaded right next to him in an aggravating bright yellow string, and it’s hard to untangle yourself.

“Please shut up,” you mumble, and then you’re at the counter and ignoring Pierre’s worried look as you pull crinkled dollar bills from your pockets. The transaction is fast, thankfully, and the cost of Sebastian’s items doesn’t set you back too much. Before you know it, you’re gripping part of his hoodie sleeve and dragging him out the door behind you.

The chill of fall hits you when you step outside. A foggy breath escapes you as you gain the courage to turn back at him. “You. Need to take these to your mom,” you thrust the stupid corn back into his arms and he catches them, thankfully, “and tell her I’m sorry. And pretend everything never happened. Tell her I’m. Really super very sorry.”

“I don’t think you— I’m. Not sure I understand,” he counters you, hesitant but determined in the way he keeps going, “she’s not mad at you. Why are you apologizing? I haven’t seen you for a week and now…?”

Aw. Maybe you should find it sweet that he seems at least a little bit upset about not seeing you, almost like he missed you. That delusional thought is muffled by the stress of everything you’re talking about, though.

“Hussy.”

“What?”

“Um.” There is no coming back from this. “Does she— Do people say that here? Does she. Think I’m a hussy.”

This is a ridiculous conversation. Every single interaction you’ve had with Sebastian, ever, has been ridiculous, and this is doing nothing to disprove that. You’ve actually going to puke. You know, it’s been just a joking threat these past few weeks, but this time you’re really going to vomit all over his stupid skater sneakers.

He’s dead silent, startled into submission by your words and you can’t even blame him. Who says the word hussy?! Why did you think anyone would call you a hussy?!?!

“I kissed her son in the dead of night right in front of her house,” you speak slowly and clearly, forcing yourself past the utter mortification that freezes your fingers and makes bile stir in your stomach, “and you’re saying that she doesn’t, um. That she’s… not mad.”

There is no coming back from this. Again. You’re grasping for either reassurance Sebastian’s mouth does that trapdoor thing again. You contemplate dropping all your seeds and running. Maybe the birds will like them.

“No. You just left me on my porch.” And he’s upset. At least a little bit. It shows in the incredulous tone of his voice and the way his lips stay parted in disbelief. You did, unfortunately, leave him on that porch that night. He’s not… wrong about that. “And then avoided me for a week. You didn't even come into town at all. Abigail and Sam told me they never saw you. Did you never leave your farm just so you wouldn’t see me?” Hurt. He’s hurt, not just upset.

Now you just feel stupid. You didn't even consider the implications of kissing someone and then running away and never seeing them again. In your defense, it wasn’t because of him, more because of his mom and the very likely (read: completely inaccurate) prediction that Robin would beat you up on sight.

“No!” You’re frantic to clear things up, but judging by his doubtful expression you’re going to have to do a lot to reach that goal. “That’s. It wasn’t on purpose. It was embarrassing.” It’s probably still the wrong choice of words. His face flinches and he glances to the side in discomfort. You’re losing him. You’re so, so bad at this. No kidding. That’s why you kissed a guy in front of his mom and almost threw up on his shoes, like, twice. Three times.

Maybe if you put it into perspective. “How would you feel if you kissed someone in their front lawn and then their mom came out and caught you guys kissing and on top of that, what if you were the new person in town and everyone still kind of maybe doesn’t like you completely, and you just ruined your reputation by kissing somebody in front of their parent?” Okay. Effective.

It’s quiet. He’s blinking at you. You get that response a lot whenever you speak to him, really. Maybe that’s a testament to your eloquence. (It’s really not.)

“And,” you keep going, because of course you do, “you never visited me, never sent a letter, nothing. Nobody came to see me. And. I kissed you and then you said nothing and. What was I supposed to do?!”

It’s what you’ve held back for a week now. Really, you weren’t expecting him to show up at your house and confess his undying love for you. A kiss is just a kiss. But if he was going to bring up the whole never-seeing-him-again thing, then you could do that too.

“You.” Trapdoor. He stutters and falters and lets out a sigh that deflates all the tension in his body. “My mom. Wants you to come over for dinner.”

Okay. Well. What the fuck does that mean.

“I want you to come over for dinner,” he clarifies. The furrow in his brow is one of certainty instead of confusion. His eyes meet yours, and stay locked for as long as his inner anxieties allow before he’s looking to the side and avoiding your wide-eyed stare.

Oh. Okay. That’s what. He means.

“Well,” you say out loud, because you’re an idiot and can’t ever control the words that spill out of your mouth. “Then. I would really love having dinner with you.” It’s supposed to come out determined, assured, maybe even a little flirty. Instead, it comes out awkwardly and stilted and you think you might be making a weird face at him on accident. The message clearly gets across, though, because the subtle tension in his face dissipates and he’s starting to smile at you. His stupid, awkward, tucked-in smile. You will yourself to not kiss him in the middle of the town square.

He mumbles a hazy “yeah,” and for a moment you think he sounds almost… dreamy. Lovestruck, maybe. Of course he’s not, because he’s Sebastian and you’re the farmer (th farmer that kissed him, and he kissed back, and now he’s inviting to his house for dinner, but. Well. That’s besides the point). It’s wishful thinking, but you still can’t help the way your eyes trail across his face and down and along the seam of his lips and. There’s the craving to kiss him, reignited, stirring deep in your chest and stomach and in the twitch of your fingertips.

“I guess that means we have to make plans for it,” and there’s some odd deeper meaning in his words, and his eyes are flitting to the side before coming back to you again. His lips twitch in something close to mischief, but not quite. “I guess that I should come over. To talk about plans.”

You’re smiling. You try to resist it, scared you’ll look stupid with how wide you’re grinning but you can’t help it and now you’re smiling with teeth and pressing a giggle back down your throat before you start shrieking in joy. “I think you should. I think I should walk you to my house and talk about. Dinner plans. Totally dinner plans.” Sebastian’s eyes flit to your lips for a moment, a devastating, knee-weakening palm-dampening bone-rattling moment. You’re very certain that you didn't imagine it in some infatuated haze. The corners of his lips tuck into that smile you love so much, too much, and he lets out a breathy sort of laugh. “Dinner plans.”

You walk him home—to your home, this time. There’s seeds in your right hand and the two ears of corn in his left, and your proximity as you walk makes it so that your hands brush together slightly with every step you take. His hands are dry from the cold. You don’t tell him that.

And you two don’t hold hands on the way home, because that would be silly. Because you’re just walking him to your house, to talk about dinner plans. There’s a bubble of unspoken things around the both of you, but there’s something between the looks you share with each other that makes you stop caring so much about saying things. You’re not very good at that, anyways.

You show him your favorite duck in your coop, the one you want Robin to upgrade, and then your cool cheese press machine that accounts for half the money you earn from your farm. He’s finally introduced to Kitty, who yowls at him once before padding up to him and biting his calf. You tell him it’s her love language.

And you talk about dinner plans. Or. Well. Who are you kidding. You kiss him silly. Silly and stupid in your kitchen, tugging on the sleeves and cuffs of his hoodie and then the hairs at the nape of his neck and then his fingers, trailing your own against his palm in circles and spirals and heart shapes that you’re almost embarrassed to be making. Almost. But not really.

You don’t really have the time or mind to be embarrassed, really. Not when you’re dizzy and warm and giggling into the lips of the pretty boy you’re in love with. And, not when you’re busy making dinner plans, of course.

#stardew valley x reader #sebastian x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #sebastian sdv x reader #sebastian stardew valley x reader #sebastian sdv #stardew valley x farmer #sebastian x farmer #sebastian sdv x farmer #stardew valley fanfic #sebastian fanfic #sebastian sdv fanfic #I DID IT GOOD LORD #ill write a makeout scene to make up for this #maybe #...hopefully

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 5 months

Text

You hate each other, right? (Tierna Davidson x Reader)

This wasn't requested or something I actually planned to write, but writers block is a bitch. Titles are hard, this isn't edited and I don't think this is very good, but here it is. Hope you enjoy :)

I'm going to try work on my actual wips so we'll see how that goes.

Warnings: None that I can think of, but let me know if I need to add anything.

Words: 4k

Tierna and I had always had a strained relationship. By that I meant we absolutely hated each other for years. Honestly, seeing as many many years had passed, we could barely remember what had caused the problem in the first place. Something to do with an injury or something.

Everything between us had changed one day when our argument ended in making out instead of shouting like normal. It seemed that over the years the hatred had turned to romantic feelings on both sides. After the kiss, there was lots of awkwardness and avoiding each other until I finally just asked her out one day when we were alone in the elevator. We had decided to keep everything on the downlow as first so we could learn how to have a relationship that didn't involve fighting or hatred. It wasn't actually that difficult because I quickly became addicted to everything Tierna. If her clinginess was anything to go off, then it was safe to say that Tierna felt the same.

To keep everyone from getting suspicious, the last couple of months we had kept our outside relationship the same. There were glares, not talking to each other, and scoffs when the other spoke. The mean comments we used to make had pretty much stopped now. I couldn't bring myself to say anything bad about her, not when I was falling for her faster than I could keep up. If anyone ever asked, I just couldn't be bothered with it anymore.

We had just gotten back from training. Tierna and I were glaring at each other as always while Emily stood between us as a kind of buffer. Tierna and I were sharing a room like we had been for the most part of the year. It was the teams way of trying to get us to get along. Little did they know how well that actually worked.

The glares lasted until the door closed behind us, finally away from the prying eyes of our team mates. Tierna turned, soft smile replacing the scowl as she fell into my arms. My hand slipped under her shirt, nails scratching along her back as she sighed, kissing my neck softly.

"You okay love?"

"Just tired and I missed you today."

"I was with you the whole day."

"Well yeah, but I couldn't touch you let alone look at you nicely. I was craving cuddles all day."

"I'm sorry, we have the rest of the evening to cuddle."

"We have team bonding tonight though." Tierna pouted, moving to find comfy clothes. I groaned at the lack of contact, moving to wrap my arms around her waist. She gently shrugged me off, moving away from me. It was a clear sign she was upset about something. I lay on the bed, allowing her space to change and decide if she wanted to come to me or not.

Tierna sat on the other bed for a few minutes scrolling through her phone before she sighed, throwing it back on the bed and walking over to me. I opened my arms, letting her lay on top of me, head resting against my neck. "I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore. It's exhausting, I hate that I can't even smile at you when we're around them, I can't run to you during games or hold your hand or be close to you like I need when I'm tired, nervous or down."

"Okay. Well, we can start being friends in front of them."

Tierna looked up at me, "Yeah?"

"If that's what you want. I'm sorry that we haven't been able to do any of that stuff. It's not that I don't want to, trust me I hate it as much as you do if not more. All I ever want to do is be with you, my favourite thing in this world is your cuddles. I would prefer to keep our relationship to ourselves for a bit longer though."

I had always preferred to keep my relationships more private, but it was also in part because we constantly got roomed together in attempt to make us get along. I wasn't ready to have that change yet. Not just because I liked sleeping in the same bed with my girlfriend, but also because I hated change. It wouldn't be a big deal if my roommate changed pretty much every camp, that didn't happen so I had gotten used to Tierna and our routine. I dreaded that changing.

"Thank you. I'll just be happy with a smile or maybe a hug every now and then. There's no pressure to tell them about us, whenever you're ready I'm ready. I know you're scared about your routine changing and we'll protect that for as long as we can. And if or when it does, I've got you. Always."

I brushed a piece of hair out of her face, soft smile making it's way onto my face. We hadn't said the three big words yet, but I had known for a while that I was in love with her. Everything with her was warm, comforting, safe. "I love you T."

A grin made it's way onto her face before she kissed me deeply, "I love you Y/n."

---

It had been two weeks since we had agreed to be more friendly. We had decided to slowly start being more friendly so it wouldn't be suspicious. At first it was just stopping the glares and actually saying a few words that weren't mean or snarky. Now we had decided smiles and maybe some proper conversations were the next step.

We were at breakfast, Tierna sat at the table across the room while I sat with Emily and Rose. I hated that she was sat away from me, but unfortunately it had always been that way. Tierna sent a small smile my way. I sent a small smile back managing to stop the grin trying to escape. Emily and Rose followed my eyeline, confusion covering their faces when they noticed it was Tierna I was smiling at. I just shrugged going back to eating my breakfast.

My peace only last a few minutes until Emily spoke up, "So have you and T have worked things out? There seems to be less glares, more smiles."

"I guess so. We actually talked a couple of weeks ago and could barely remember why we didn't like each other. We're trying to be friends."

"Finally. Maybe we'll all be able to be in the same room peacefully."

Over the rest of camp, the smiles and conversation became more frequent. The confusion or shock that covered the teams face for the first week was hilarious. Thankfully, after the initial shock, they seemed to back off their nosiness a bit. They seemed to realise we were more friendly without their prying eyes. It was nice though, being able to actually look at Tierna or be around her even if I couldn't touch her much.

---

Camps had always been one of my favourite things. I loved being around the girls, just getting to train and mess around. This time though, I almost wanted to just leave. Since Tierna and I were becoming 'friends', we had finally been roomed with different people. We had only been at camp for two days and my nerves were through the roof. They had been since I arrived. It wasn't what I was used to and I wasn't entirely sure how to cope with it. My whole routine had been disrupted without warning. The team knew I didn't like change, but I guess no one really thought this was something that would affect me too bad.

Training had finished an hour ago, dinner and team bonding weren't for a few hours and I was stuck on my bed fidgeting with my fingers. Alyssa sat down next to me, nudging my shoulder gently, "Are you okay Y/n?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay."

"I call bullshit."

A sigh slipped out as my head rest against her shoulder. I didn't have the energy to pretend to be okay, "I love you Lys, really I do, but I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"Not rooming with Tierna. I know I used to not like it and we only just recently became friends, but that's what I was used to. For months, we had our routine, it didn't change much if at all. Just a bit of extra talking. Even then I knew what to expect. Now, it's all changed without warning and I don't think I'm coping very well with it."

"So, it's not just because you don't get to share with your girlfriend anymore?"

My head flew up, every muscle in my body tensing, "What?"

"Relax, I'm the only one that knows. I saw you guys making out in a hidden corner of the stadium when I took a wrong turn. You two are obviously pretending you're not great friends and hiding it for a reason. I haven't and won't tell anyone."

"Thank you Lys. I wish this was just because of that, but it's not. I don't deal with change very well at all. I like my routine and now it's completely different. If we hadn't been forced to room together for months, no routine would be formed and it wouldn't be this bad."

"I'm sorry that you were forced into a routine then forced out of it. We can see how you go for a couple of days and if it's not getting better then we can talk to coach and see if we can switch."

I smiled, accepting the hug she offered. It wasn't Tierna, but it was a close second. "I'm not mad at the forced rooming. I mean, T and I wouldn't be together without it. This is one of the reasons we haven't told anyone, to try hold onto my routine."

Much to my confusion, there was a light knock at the door. As far as I knew, everyone was hanging out in their rooms before dinner. My head buried in my hands, really not up for visitors as Alyssa went to open the door. Arms wrapped around me, my head resting against a stomach before the unmistakable smell of Tierna filled my senses. "Before you ask, Alyssa messaged saying you could use me so here I am."

"Thank you Lys."

"Always. I'm going to go for a walk, see you at dinner."

Tierna guided me to lie on the bed, cuddled up against her. It was probably the first time since camp started that I fully relaxed. "Love you T."

"I love you. I know this is difficult, but at least with Alyssa knowing we have more of a chance to see each other."

---

"Are you okay Y/n?" Christen asked as her and Alex sat on either side of me. I knew the team were getting concerned at how withdrawn I was and I appreciated they cared. However, getting asked multiple times a day if I was okay, was getting on my nerves.

"I'm fine." I snapped, retying my boots for the fourth time.

I knew I was being grumpy, but I couldn't help it. This whole routine change had messed with everything, especially my sleep. I was tired and stressed, trying to adjust and create a new routine. It wasn't working very well, but I was trying not to show it much. I didn't want to seem childish or be judged for my lack of adaptability. Tierna was trying her best to help, there wasn't much she could do beside comfort me. Alyssa had also been understanding, not taking my discomfort personally. There wasn't much she could do either though.

Alex and Christen gave me a look before pulling me away from everyone else, "Talk to us."

I sighed, burying my face in my hands, everything that had been happening spilling out. They let me talk, not saying anything until they were sure I was done. Christen rest her hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. "We get you're trying to tough it out, to adapt, but you could have told us before it got this bad. It's well known you don't do well with change and I guess we didn't think much of this since you had different room mates in the past. We'll talk to coach and see if you can change rooms assuming it's okay with Tierna and Rose."

"I'll be fine, I'll get over it."

"No, we need you to be at your best. So we'll talk to coach after practice."

"Thank you. Before you say it, I know I will need to get over it at some point. I won't always be able to have Tierna as a roommate. I'm working on it, my therapist is helping. I just think the lack of warning and no time to mentally prepare didn't help."

"We'll never tell you to get over it Y/n/n, but we are glad you're trying. We hate seeing you like this, we just want you to be okay."

Later that night when I finally made it back to my room after being dragged to hangout with Emily, I found Tierna lying on my bed, book in hand. I straddled her waist, kissing her forehead then nose and lips. "Well hello."

"Hi."

"Alyssa is rooming with Rose. I think you need an early night, you look exhausted."

"I think you're right. Sleep hasn't been easy the last few days."

---

Tierna: I'm thinking it's time for a date day. Sneak out with me?

Y/n: Don't have to ask me twice. I'm going to head back to the room to change, meet me there?

Tierna: Perfect, can't wait x

After making the excuse of planning to spend the day relaxing in the room, I slipped out of the meal room to get changed and meet Tierna. It wasn't unusual for me to spend a day or two at camp alone to recharge so I knew it wouldn't cause any concern aside from a text or two.

Soft lips landed against mine as soon as Tierna entered the room. "Hello to you too."

Tierna pecked my lips, "There was not enough of that this morning."

"Well if you had woken up when I tried then there would have been more kissing time."

"It's an off day, what's the point in waking up early?"

"Make out time."

"Whatever. I was thinking, we shower and make out more, then check out that book shop you were talking about. I didn't think about what else, but we can get lunch and there is a beach not far from here."

My arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her forehead. There hadn't been a lot of time to ourselves so I was very excited to spend the day with her. "Sounds incredible. I'm sure we can find some lowkey stuff to do. Could you imagine the shit we would get if the team found out about this from social media?"

"Shit, I didn't even think about that. Sneaky date day it is!"

As per Tiernas plan she dragged me into the shower, spending more time with her lips attached to me than actual shower activities. Not that I was complaining in the slightest. Tierna and I spent a lot more time in the room than originally planned, it being almost lunch time when I finally dragged Tierna out of the hotel.

We spent a while exploring the little book shop, taking our time looking at the different books and stealing kisses behind the book shelves. It was risky, we both knew it, but at the same time I was having too much fun with her to care. Though we weren't doing anything overly exciting, just getting to spend some alone time with the girl I loved was enough for it to be the most fun I had in a while. Spending time with the team was always fun, but it didn't compare to spending time with Tierna.

After finally dragging ourselves away from the book shop, we got sushi deciding to eat in the park. Thankfully, there weren't that many people and we managed to find a relatively secluded area.

At the start of the day, we had very much intended on actually doing things. However, we ended up spending quite a while lying on the grass at the park just talking. Since the start of our relationship, most of our time would be spent talking. At first it was getting to know each other properly, then it was just something we enjoyed. Tierna was one of the only people besides Emily that I could spend hours talking and not get bored. I never was much of a talker, but I actually looked forward to our talking time. Between games, training, meetings, and spending time with the team, we hadn't had a lot of time to just talk. Despite rooming together, by time we fell into bed, we were just ready to sleep.

Eventually we dragged ourselves up, making our way slowly to the beach, stopping at a few shops along the way. We walked along the beach, finding a hidden away part near the end. Tierna settled between my legs, back against my front as I nuzzled my face into her neck, "You're beautiful T. I've never been more grateful for our meddling teammates. I love you."

"I love you. This is something I never saw happening, but I would never want anything else. And I would never admit to them how thankful I am for their part in this."

"Oh never in a million years will I admit that to them. Thank you for today T, it's probably one of the best days I've had in a while."

"Really? We pretty much talked all day which is not what I planned."

"My love, any day I spend with you is amazing. Maybe it wasn't what you planned, but I don't care T. I love just talking to you and with how little time we've had together lately today was amazing. I love you, I loved today so please stop feeling bad like I know you are."

Tierna turned to look at me, not saying anything for a second while her eyes roamed my face. Probably making sure I was telling the truth. She pecked my cheek before whispering, "How did I get so lucky with you?"

"You didn't hit me when I kissed you that night."

"Didn't even cross my mind. I think by that point I was starting to realise that maybe I didn't hate you like I thought."

"Looking back you were blushing a lot around me then. No different to now I guess. You're just better at hiding it around the team."

My forehead was pushed back, Tierna pouting while I tried to stifle my laugh. She was adorable when she pouted. "Shut up asshole. Speaking of the team, we should probably head back soon."

Unfortunately for us, a few of the girls were lingering in the lobby and not at dinner like we had anticipated. The thought to hide was quickly pushed away when they all turned to look at us. "Where have you two been? We came to get you for dinner, but obviously you weren't there."

I had checked social media a few times just to make sure there wasn't any thing about us since a few people had stopped us for pictures. Thankfully, nothing had been posted yet and if it was the pictures were all innocent so I knew it was safe to make up a little lie. "We just went for a walk."

Emily pulled me into a headlock, normally I could get out of her hold pretty easily, but I was tired and not really in the mood. "Where was my invite? You know you're bestfriend incase you've forgotten."

My eyes rolled automatically, finally managing to push her away, "Em, stop being dramatic. It was a very last minute thing, not some conspiracy to leave you out. You are and will always be my bestfriend."

"Yeah whatever. I don't think you two willingly spending time together without killing each other will ever get old."

"Maybe not, but your comments already are. Now isn't there dinner then team bonding?"

---

The game was almost over when Tierna ended up on the ground due to a miss timed tackle. She didn't get up straight away and I saw red. Before I even fully realised what was happening, my hands were on the chest of the player who took Tierna down, pushing her back multiple times.

"Are you fucking stupid? You could hav-"

Arms gripped mine, pulling me back and finally snapped me out it. "Y/n, Y/n stop."

My arms went up in surrender, walking back to Tierna before I could do something stupid again. I knew I had gotten a yellow card, but the only thing that mattered was Tierna. I wanted so badly to hold her hand to comfort her properly, but I knew I couldn't. Instead I squeezed her shoulder gently, relief washing through me when she finally got up.

Everyone stared at us as Tierna and I walked into the locker room. I knew it was coming, I had just hoped it would be a few of the older ones and not everyone. Christen gave me a pointed look, Alyssa and Alex joining in. "What the hell was that Y/n?"

I shrugged, avoiding eye contact. I wouldn't say I regretted it because I wasn't sure I did. Though, I had likely disappointed them, something I hated doing. "I lost my temper."

"You never lose your temper Y/n. You don't even lose your temper when I go down and I'm your best friend. Yet you lose your temper when someone you're barely friends with gets tackled." Emily stated, arms crossed. There was no way they would let this go, it was definitely out of character for me. I had always been a calm person, never violent or short tempered. The look Tierna gave me told me she was thinking the same. This was it.

My arm wrapped around Tierna's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to her temple, "Well, become my girlfriend and apparently I will."

"You're what!?! You're fucking with us."

Questions and statements were fired our way, everyone shocked and confused how we were dating given the way we acted. "Shut up." Once everyone was quiet, I spoke again, "Yes we are together. We have been for about 9 months. We kept our same dislike or barely friend act so we could keep it between us for a while. We needed to work out how we worked together after actually not liking each other for a long time. It was nice in our little bubble. And before you ask, no I wasn't not coping with the different room assignments because of it, my routine changed suddenly and my brain didn't like that. That should answer your questions, can I shower now?"

They looked at us in disbelief before I just walked away knowing we would be hit with more questions later. Tierna pecked my lips before going to her own shower, "That was hot. Don't make a habit of it though, you don't need to be getting in trouble. Also thank you for answering all those questions. I do not have the energy right now."

Before Tierna could actually get into the shower, I grabbed her arm, pulling her back into me. Now that she had taken her shirt off, I finally had the chance to make sure she was truly okay. My hands ran along her sides and up her back before hugging her tightly, "I've never done anything like that before. I just, I saw you go down and I snapped. Seeing you hurt, well it worried me in a way I've never felt before. You sure you're okay?"

"This side of you is adorable. I've never seen you so worried before. I'm okay, I promise. There might be a bruise or two, but I'm okay."

"What can I say? I've never been in love like this before. I always worry about you T, but seeing you down is a whole different type of worry. I love you."

"And I love you."

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #tierna davidson imagine #tierna davidson x reader

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