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joelscruff · 3 months

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imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

#joel miller x reader #*#1500 kisses challenge

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arachine · 1 year

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something about non-traditional family dynamics with gojo just speaks to me…

includes :: co-parent!gojo, rich boy!gojo, mentions of pregnancy + leaky nips hehe

note :: this is just pure brainrot, started thinking about him in class today and i needed to get this out of my brain!

link to part two + link to part three

i’d like to think that after he knocks you up in college, the two of you take it upon yourselves to get married because, “‘it’s the right thing to do.’” and so, for a few years, you do the whole marriage thing—the family thing.

no longer were you the twenty-something-year-old who partied hard every weekend, and studied until the break of dawn every school night.

no, now you were the twenty-something-year-old who fixed bottles at odd hours in the night, whose nipples leaked through all her favorite tops, who had a husband that paid a mortgage and kissed her goodbye before he went off to work for the company passed down to him.

and after some time, things finally start to fall into place—your little family.

the baby gets bigger. you go through the terrible twos, of course, and the teenage-threes, but once she hits five, it’s suddenly pie in the sky—and god, it feels like you can finally start to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

so, you and gojo have one more. one more girl that’s precious, and smart, and quick-tongued, and every bit of her dad as she is you.

things are touch and go for awhile, but for the most part it’s...easy, smooth. that is, until married life starts to feel like a task, and your husband starts to feel like your roommate instead of your companion.

conversations becomes brief, the bed becomes colder, morning kisses are exchanged for nods of acknowledgement, and you can’t even remember the last time either of you desired each other…

one day though, the two of you come to a mutual decision to separate. you spend the night talking, and talking, and talking. you talk about things. memories—before and after. you even talk about your mis-comings, and if things could’ve gone differently had either of you did ‘this, this, and that’.

when you tell the girls, you’re half expecting them to be upset, but all they can think about is how, “‘they’ll get twice the amount of gifts during holidays’” — at least, according to your oldest who heard that from a kid in her class with separated parents.

a few years pass after your separation and now the both of you have come to a place where you can just be...friends. it was weird, at first—dropping your kids off to their 'other home'. walking them up to the grandiose sky-rise apartment building that's always bustling with people who've got places to be, and working class people to probably torture—but that's neither here, nor there.

gojo's waiting in the lobby. he's leaned up against the side of the elevator, dressed down in all black athleisure, and he's sporting that damn cheesy grin that you find yourself missing lately.

"hey girls," he greets, lowering down to his haunches and opening his arms for hugs, "oof—big hugs, almost knocked me over! missed me that much, huh?"

while the three of them get their hugs out of the way, you stand there idly watching, rocking back and forth on the balls of your heels.

"hey," he finally acknowledges you, "how was the drive? they got everything they need?"

"it was fine, and yep! they insisted on packing their own bags like big girls but i checked them," you say, before whispering, "and then repacked them."

he laughs at that, and then grabs their suitcases.

"but yeah, i should get going before traffic hits. if you need anything, let me know, and if you need anything," you drop down to your knees, "mommy's only a call away, okay?"

the two of them nod, "okay, mommy!"

"good...now come on, hugs and kisses!" you pull them in, getting enough kisses for two-weeks time. eventually, you pull away—albit, reluctantly, and wave your goodbyes.

the three of them watch you walk away, and when you're finally out of ear-shot, gojo utters a 'miss that'.

"miss what, daddy?"

"uh-huh," he clears his throat, "daddy didn't say anything..."

"liar, you miss mommy. don't you?" the youngest grins, all cheeky and knowing. gojo rolls his eyes—not out of annoyance, but because of how much they reminded him of himself. much like he, nothing ever got past those two...and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. right now, though? it's gonna be a good thing because he needs to know if-

"does mommy have a new boyfriend?"

"why?" the oldest answers, squinting her eyes in suspicion.

"jeez kid, just answer the question."

she ponders for a second, then extends her hand out, opening and closing it in a fast manner. gojo pouts, then takes out his wallet to put a five dollar bill on it.

she doesn't budge.

"oh, c'mon! i'm your father!" he pouts, but acquiesces and pulls out another five, "fine, you little brat."

with a smile on her face, she stuffs the bills in her front pocket and nods her head.

"wha-really?" he gasps, "is he better looking than me? how old is he? is he younger than daddy? is he richer than daddy? what's he do for work?"

ignoring his questions, she only extends her hand out again.

"i'm not giving you any more money, so we can settle this with some ice cream or nothing."

she ponders for a second time before nodding. "ice cream works for me."

"you little...c'mon get on the elevator."

20 floors in and the questions never stop coming.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk imagines

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theoldsports · 10 months

Text

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow

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joelswritingmistress · 2 months

Text

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

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keerysfreckles · 3 months

Text

sparks fly — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: “drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain. kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain” — or when y/n goes to lando's childhood home in england, after her night turned for the worst.

warnings: abusive relationship, cursing, not proofread

a/n: shoutout to pookie nat for finally getting me into taylor 🙏

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n knew from the moment she watched her first rom-com, she would find a love like the movies. how to lose a guy in ten days. thirteen going on thiry. ten things i hate about you. twenty seven dresses.

the list could go on. she was more than positive she'd find someone to love her the same way these fictional men loved their partners.

y/n met her first love during her spring break of her second year of uni. she could've sworn they were meant to be. they had plenty in common. they were studying the same major, both loved hockey, both wanted to study abroad someday, in paris or germany.

she thought it was perfect. until the fairy tale castle started crumbling.

during their third year of uni, y/n noticed patrick changing. he got more focused with his school work, but became more aggressive when y/n was involved.

y/n thought at first it was just the stress from exams coming up. she justified it as everyone's on edge, getting antsy for the year to be done with.

however it only fell downhill. the words of aggression turned into loud yells heard from their shard apartment at late hours. the yelling turned into patrick throwing any item he could find, which soon turned into y/n dodging almost everything patrick threw.

he hasn't hit her yet, which was possibly the only thing keeping y/n in the relationship. she really believed he could change. but as days passed, and his anger only progressed, she wasn't sure the old patrick was still inside.

sure, the man would always try to make it up to her. a million open eneded apologies could only do so much.

on the twenty third of october, that's when shit hit the fan.

"patrick please, just let me go to bed. it's late, we're both angry and not thinking right," y/n tried reasoning with him, knowing her words don't mean a thing to him.

"no, you're going to tell me what you were doing out so late."

y/n only lets out a scoff. it was the same fight almost every time she went out with friends, or simply went to the library to study. patrick never believed her.

"for the last time, i was out with jess. all we did was go shopping," y/n explains again. her own anger starts rising. she feels the bottle inside her shaking, getting ready to explode.

she stands from the couch, walking to their shared room.

"you think you can walk away from me?" patrick quickly follows, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

"what is your problem!" y/n finally shouts, "you never believe me. what do you think i'm doing? cheating on you? how can i do that when you barely let me leave this goddamn apartment?"

y/n's breath heaved. she felt a small pressure release as she finally got the courage to yell at the man standing in front of her.

"who do you think you are?"

as patrick spoke, he stepped closer to y/n. causing her to step back, eventually becoming trapped between the him and the wall.

"who gave you the right to talk to me like that?" patrick seethed, before reaching out and grabbing y/n's wrist.

his grip only tightened when she let out pained sounds, as tears started forming in her eyes.

she tried prying his hand off her wrist with her other one, "let go," she begged.

y/n started kicking. she didn't know where her feet were ending up, but was grateful patrick had started backing away from her movements.

she managed to release her wrist from his hold, and ran towards the bedroom door. grabbing anything she could before leaving the apartment, she was able to grab her phone and her shoes.

patrick tried grabbing at her again, yelling and begging for her to come back. she was still struggoing to slip her shoes on even when she got outside.

y/n swore she still heard patrick's yelling from where she stood.

once she got at least a block away, the tears couldn't help but fall. her vision became fuzzy as she kept walking. she kept tripping over he untied shoe laces, stepping in the puddles from the rain beginning to fall from her sky.

as if the rain was matching y/n's mood.

in the ten minutes she continued to mindlessly walk, y/n couldn't believe how stupid she had been. scolding herself for staying with the man who only made her the worst version of herself.

y/n kept walking, until she seemed to find herself in an all too familiar neighborhood. she couldn't even begin to count the times she's been here.

she tries ridding her tears, knowing its no use as her eyes are probably bright red and puffy.

she begins to knock on the door of the house she knows too well. as her hand leaves the wood, her mind only begins to spiral.

what are you doing? they might not even be home. this could be too much for them to handle. they won't want to see me. they can't do anything–

the sound of locks turning brought y/n back from inside her mind.

cisca stood on the other side of the door, in the warmly lit house. her heart broke at the sight of y/n drenched from the rain, her shoes barely holding onto her feet, and her shaking hands.

"oh darling," cisca starts.

"i didn't know where else to go," y/n's voice shakes as cisca lets her inside. she's gone for a moment, before coming back with a towel for the girl.

"you know you're welcome here any time," cisca brought y/n towards the living room, not caring if the couch gets wet. she can always fix it later.

"you dry off some more, i'll be back with a cup of tea," cisca rubs y/n's arm before leaving for the kitchen. the older woman's mind wanders to all the possibilities for why y/n was at their home at the late hour.

minutes pass and cisca sets the warm cup of tea in y/n's hands, instantly receiving a thank you from her.

cisca gasps slightly at the bruise already forming around y/n's wrist. "sweetheart, what happened?"

she rubs her back as y/n explains everything to the woman. from the point patrick began getting verbally violent, to the events that happened no less then half an hour ago.

cisca couldn't believe her ears. the sweet y/n she knew would never have stayed with someone like that, but cisca hardly knows her at any more. ever since she started uni she rarely comes over to her best friends childhood home.

after pulling y/n into a much needed hug, cisca began setting up the extra bedroom. while y/n stayed on the couch, finishing the cup of tea in her hands.

"hey mom, i heard noise from my room. everything okay?" lando peeks his head into the spare bedroom, instantly confused to why his mother is setting up the bed.

"y/n is out there, and she just needs to be comforted right now, okay? she's had a rough night," cisca explains as lando nods in understanding.

lando walks through the hallway towards the living room, and just like his mother, his heart sinks at the sight of y/n. she's hunched over on the couch, finally getting warmer from being out in the rain.

"i thought i heard noise out here," lando chuckles, hoping a light hearted mood might fix the atmosphere around y/n.

once their eyes meet, he knows one slightly fun comment won't make anything better. he sees her bloodshot eyes, and worried expression.

"oh, baby," the nickname slips through his lips. one he's called her many times in the past.

he kneels in front of her to wrap his arms tightly around her waist, as hers reach for his shoulders.

he didn't know how much comforting she needed, but could only guess it was a lot after she started crying against his shoulder.

he continued to hold her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. his heart started to break once she started shaking in his arms. a mixture from the crying and her body finally letting the stress and anxiety get to her.

"i should've listened to you," y/n mumbled against his shoulder.

lando doesn't respond, knowing exactly what the girl meant.

her grip loosened slightly on his shoulders, now just resting her hands there as she looks at him.

"you were right. he wasn't a good guy. you had a feeling and i should've listened to you," y/n rambles on, knowing lando's been right about patrick since the first time the two men met.

"what did he do?" lando asks, moving his hands to hers. however, his fingers brush over y/n's brusing skin. the action makes her flinch slightly, and lando's heart breaks for the second time that night.

"i shouldn't have come here," y/n states, beginning to shake her head back and forth. "i'm sorry."

"you have nothing to be sorry for, you can stay," lando tries to reason with her.

he continues to try even when he follows her back out in the rain.

"y/n! just come inside!" he runs after her, his socks getting damp from the drying puddles outside. he looks up, the rainfall definitely slowed, but y/n's hair was beginning to get wet again.

"no lando, it's fine. i'll go back there for the night. he's probably calmed down by now."

lando reaches y/n, "you can't possibly want to go back there. he hurt you. you can barely move your wrist because of the bastard."

y/n turned to see lando looking at her, his curls falling slightly from the drizzling rain.

"you can't go back there y/n."

"i've already ruined yours and your mom's night."

lando laughs, "that's the last thing you've done. you and i both know you're more than welcome to stay the night."

after minutes of silence, lando speaks up again while stepping closer to y/n.

"i want you to come inside. i want you to be comfortable and safe."

it's as if a switch went off in y/n's head. a switch she's surprised didn't go off sooner.

seeing lando like this, standing in the rain in front of her. wanting nothing more than to make sure she's protected. something patrick would never have done, during any circumstances.

he watches her eyes flick between his own and his lips.

he lets out a shuddered breath as she simply begins walking closer to him.

"y/n, you went through way too much tonight. i don't want to add to any of your stress."

y/n shakes her head, "lando i've never been more sure of anything."

lando's hands find their way to her waist as she finally steps in front of him.

"take away my pain lando, please. you're the only person who's been here for everything. you're the only one i need. i'm so stupid for not seeing it earlier. i should've never went on that stupid date. i should've listened to you, and– and if i did i would've been here so much sooner."

y/n catches her breath. her heart hammers in her chest waiting for lando's reaction.

tears begin to blur her vision once more, her emotions getting the better of her as lando doesn't respond.

"lan, please say something. you're what i want, not h–"

y/n stumbles back slightly from the impact of lando's lips pushing against hers. her hands hold onto his face, scared that if she let's go, she might just be imagining this.

"please, let me take you back in–"

now y/n cuts off lando's words, making the man laugh into the kiss. the sound and feeling sending shivers up y/n's spine.

lando breaks the kiss, but feels y/n's breath fanning over his lips.

"now can you please come back inside?"

"one more," y/n mumbles against his lips before he has the chance to reject her offer.

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harrysfolklore · 11 months

Text

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

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ch-4-eri · 4 months

Text

First Time? — Lara Croft.

Lara X fem!reader

warnings: virginity taking, smut, fingering, pet names, lara being such a heartthrob. (proofread but sorry for any mistakes.)

anon request.

i finally finished writing this oooo, sorry i rushed the ending.

you were getting ready on the floor of your bedroom, your phone lighting up with a new text message from your girlfriend, Lara.

she promised she’d take you for a walk around town now that you have a break from college exams, random quizzes and all that.

you were very grateful she’s understanding, she did go to university herself, even if she was over five years older than you.

you dabbed some blusher on the apples of your cheeks with the mirror in front of you, then took a hold of your phone to remind her you’ll be there soon, you wouldn’t be late.

it was hours later as you begged Lara to sit down, your legs gave out from the walking you’d already done, sweat breaking out from your forehead.

“jeez, honey.. you’ve got the stamina of a baby.” she said, taking a seat next to you, opening her bottle of water to give you a sip, wiping your sweaty forehead with her palm, then wiped it over her shirt, you liked how Lara didn’t care much for such stuff, like getting your sweat on her clothes.

“drink up.” lara broke you out of your thoughts as you opened your mouth and took a sip from her bottle, lara fixed you up a little, patting down the flying out hairs off your scalp and the side of your face, grabbing a tissue to wipe your cheeks, she’s often motherly with you, at some point you did find it weird but now? you didn’t mind it one bit.

you liked how she took care of you without asking for anything in return.

as she allowed you another sip from her bottle you smiled and chugged it down your dry throat. “are you okay? damn, i’m afraid you’ll pass out on me.” Lara scoffed, smoothing down your shirt.

“i’m fine, sorry.” you finally chuckled, you had no idea why you were so lost in thought that day, you couldn’t help but think.

maybe what had you this hazed up is the thought of lara intimately the other night, and you forced yourself to sleep so you don’t have to think much of it.

Lara knew she had to take it slow as you were much younger than her, and she didn’t want to jump into anything that would make you uncomfortable, she’s so sensitive about the fact that she could do anything that would hurt you, or make you uncomfortable around her, so she hoped you’d initiate it first… until then she’s gonna wait, she’d wait forever for you.

but you? you couldn’t initiate shit, you were a nerve wreck, so damn awkward, maybe you were even slightly self conscious, Lara had no idea you were a virgin, she thought you had a wild past, considering you were in your early twenties, it’s valid for people this age to do so much and you didn’t wanna confirm nor deny things, so you kept quiet.

every time you tried to initiate something, you were worried you didn’t shave, or didn’t shower, you probably smelt bad, you’d just stand there like a fool and forget all about it, idea tossed to the side.

you brain was your worst enemy, and it didn’t help that Lara was one of the prettiest women you could ever be with, you can’t imagine being inexperienced with her, or doing something stupid or looking ugly in such a special moment.

Lara walked you home that day, then you insisted she spends the night, only because it would be fun… right?

Lara on the other hand didn’t think of it that way, she was so sure you’d finally initiate something, she felt so excited she couldn’t breathe at all.

as you opened the door to your bedroom, Lara walked in. just trying to act normal, for now.

she looked at your room, your bed, it was a single bed.. damn.

Lara cleared her throat and went through your books on the shelf, impressed by the variety of collections you had, small figurines she found adorable as you flushed in embarrassment, she was never in your bedroom, it felt nice to have her here though.

she finally took a seat on your bed then, stretching out on your single bed she’d definitely tease you for later.

“pretty room, never imagined your room to be this… singular though.” she giggled, leaning on her knees with a smirk, her brown eyes searching through yours, making your cheek flush a pink shade Lara adored.

“i… yeah..” you blushed.

“don’t be shy, singular beds can be nice too.” Lara said, kicking her boots off as she flopped down the bed, not having space much for you if she were to ever stay the night in your bed like this, she looked amazing on your bed, you couldn’t help but stare as a feeling pooled through you, your cheeks getting redder than before.

you were playing with the hem of your shirt as thoughts rolled around your head, listening to her breathe, her figure resting on your bed like that.

it was so tempting.

you wanted her.

every fibre of your being was aching for her, for her touch, but you couldn’t, you were so scared.

as your thoughts ate away at you, Lara caught on, she always knew, she just hated to pressure you.

she called your name, causing you to look into her warm brown eyes that looked yellow from certain angles and lightings.

“what’s wrong? you’ve been lost in that pretty head of yours all day.” Lara sat up on your bed, her hand taking yours as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

you gulped, you’re gonna say it.

you’re gonna admit it, both the fact that you were a virgin, and the fact that you’ve been craving her for months.

you bit down your slightly chapped lip, turning on your bed to face her, there goes nothing.

it’s better than drowning in these thoughts and feelings, you have to be honest with her, it’s a commitment to do so and you were so committed to Lara.

there’s nothing wrong with being honest about your lack of experience; you knew Lara isn’t shallow and close minded.

you rubbed the side of your head as your breathing caught in your throat, your words choked, you needed to pull yourself together.

Lara took a hold of your chin with her free hand as she leaned her head closer to yours, seeking out your expressions, wanting to understand you and understand your feelings. Lara knew you were too hard on yourself sometimes and barely let it out.

she waited, squeezing your chin softly in her rough fingers.

“i’m..” you finally started, one step at a time.

“Lara i’m… um..” you paused, your tongue tied and your palms so sweaty.

“you’re what, honey?” Lara softly muttered, her fingers still placed underneath your chin, her other hand rubbing your thigh in comfort.

“a… virgin.” you whispered, your gaze averted, refusing to keep eye contact, your embarrassment was bad enough as it is, you can’t imagine how she’d look at you as your thoughts ate away every ounce of common sense you could have had over this.

Lara forced your chin upwards, your gaze falling back into hers.

“and that’s a problem, how?” Lara mumbled, leaning closer to you, the tip of her nose brushing against yours. “tell me.. how’s that a problem?” she asked, her fingers tightening against your chin.

“it’s.. n—not..” you breathed, unable to say anything, she made your brain a mush of mess, unable to think straight.

as if anything about her would make you straight.

Lara's lips made contact with your jaw, her hand on your thigh reached all the way up to hold your hip, pulling you closer.

“that’s right.. i’d get to be the first one to touch you, the only one who touches you…” she mumbled into your soft skin, she’d die doing this and she’d be the happiest woman ever.

“i wanna taste you so bad.” Lara moaned into your neck, bringing you by the waist on top of her, lying down on your small bed.

“Lara.. wait please.” you supported yourself on the bed, your hands on either side of her head as you stared down at your older girlfriend, her hands holding your waist.

“shh… it’s okay.” she cooed, placing soft kisses on your cheek. “i know… we don’t have to do anything, i just wanted you to be certain that i’d never judge you, never belittle you… so what if you've never had sex before?” Lara reassured you, her hand stroking your cheek softly, the pad of her thumb resting on your cheekbone.

“doesn’t make me like you any less, you’re still my girl.”

she smiled, nudging your nose with hers, her other hand gripping your waist in a comforting expression.

“is it… bad to say that i wanna do it with you?” you mumbled, staring at her brown eyes as she was beneath you, giving you the opportunity to be this close to her, her freckles like constellations, her scent so enticing and her warmth inviting, your lips found themselves on the corner of her mouth, feeling her hands on your lower back.

“not bad… i want the same thing, love.” her thick accent rang in your ears, her calloused fingers touching the inside of your shirt, the pad of her thumbs stroking every inch she can come across. your head dipped to the crook of her neck, her perfume even stronger as your nerves burned with desire.

this is the first time you’ve ever been this close to a girl, your lips attached to the soft skin of her neck, her moans echoing through the walls of the bedroom making your untouched pussy throb at the way she writhed and squirmed in your damned small bed.

Lara gripped your hips as she guided your hips closer to hers, “let me take this off.” she whispered, undoing your jeans, her fingers soft and tender.

you helped her take off the garment, Lara knew she can’t fuck up your first time in any way, so she got up from the bed and picked you up around her waist to place you down so she’s on top, your hands buried themselves into her soft hair, bringing your lips to her neck as Lara tugged at your waist, holding back her moans.

your legs were on either side of her, Lara felt so damn dizzy at the sight of your legs spreading for her, she knew you were ready, that you wanted it.

she couldn’t wait to stretch your virgin pussy.

“easy there baby..” Lara moaned, pushing you down the bed by the hips, her fingers moving to slide your panties down your legs, her breath caught over the sight of your pussy, you were so wet… such a virgin, Lara thought.

“oh my..” Lara breathed, bringing her pointer and middle finger to spread your folds, rubbing them into you as you closed your eyes and let her touch you just like how badly you wanted her to. “so pretty…” Lara smiled, rubbing her index finger against your clit, watching you drip.

“such a good girl..” Lara praised you as her wrist flicked and she pumped her index and ring finger into you gently, she made sure you didn’t get hurt, knowing no one’s ever touched you like that before, but oh how proud she felt, it was honour to take your virginity like that, and she was glad you picked her.

“does that hurt?” Lara asked, sticking her fingers into your hole briefly, seeking out your reaction, your body tensed and breath caught in your throat. “no..” was all you said as Lara pushed her fingers slowly just a bit further inside. waiting to see if you’re in any pain before she fucked her fingers into you.

you were so wet, and your muscles relaxed, you enjoyed this beyond words and Lara was so thankful you felt comfortable with her, her lips found your cheek as she slowly fingered you, listening to your soft moans and soft breaths, you were breathtaking.

“so beautiful..” Lara mumbled, smiling at the sight of you like this, it wasn’t long before you gently rocked your hips to match her pace. “don’t hurt yourself baby… let me do the work.” she cooed, holding your hip to keep you from doing anything that will cause you pain.

“need you deeper..” you whispered, Lara complied and moved her fingers deeper, only slowly and with so much caution, you were so tight. only wet enough to let her fingers get sucked inside of you with her movement calculated. “more…” you whined, making Lara smack her lips.

she couldn’t add another finger, that’s pushing it.. especially for a first time. the only moved her other hand to rub at your clit, her fingers buried inside of you just going faster. “that good..?” lara breathed.

“yeah… yeah, fuck fuck..” you moaned, your hips rocking along with lara’s movements, she couldn’t stop you now, she wanted you to cum on her fingers. “fuck!” you mewled out, squirming.

“cum for me baby..” lara rasped, both hands working on your tight sweet pussy, rubbing and thrusting. she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your neck, making you arch your back and rock your hips further into her thick fingers.

Lara slowed her pace just a bit as she saw you coming undone all over her, and all over your bed, mewling and crying into the pillow, she figured your first orgasm would be intense, so she let you ride it out then she pulled out her fingers gently.

she looked at how much you’ve gushed down her fingers and she couldn’t help but shove them in her mouth, licking it clean while rubbing a hand over your stomach to comfort you. “it’s okay baby.” she says, leaning down to press a sticky kiss to your cheek, laying down beside you to hold and comfort you. her arms wrapped around you securely, pulling a blanket over you both as you’re squished on your small bed.

#lara croft #lara croft x female reader #lara croft x reader #lara croft smut

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luveline · 11 months

Note

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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lisired · 6 months

Text

waiting game

pairing: best friend’s dad!johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf au, age gap, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap yo mf willy!), orgasm denial, edging, half the fic is just johnny & mc teasing each other to death, oral (f receiving), fingering around people

summary: Your best friend’s dad is a smoking hot dilf seeking vengeance after you’ve spent the past couple of years teasing him, but it seems that you can’t handle a taste of your own medicine.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: ¼ of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

Time was something ironic to you. It flew by quickly when you were having fun, yet seemed to drag on when the moments were dull. If you had to give a prime example, it would be now.

This current moment, with you listening impatiently to the vexing sound of your clock ticking while counting down the minutes before you got to see Johnny again. You had a study date with your best friend - his daughter - in over half an hour, and you were beginning to wish that you hadn’t planned your outfit so far in advance. Now you had nothing to distract you from your throbbing heartbeat in the meantime.

To say the least, every moment with Johnny was nothing short of thrilling, no matter how brief. He had the power to summon a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with a mere smile - unbeknownst to him, of course. As far as you knew, Johnny knew nothing of your silly little crush on him and you wanted to keep it that way. It was fun to imagine what it would be like if he reciprocated your crush, but that’s precisely all it was—your imagination. Hypothetical situations you could only fantasize about. You had to give yourself the tough reminder that he’d never be into his daughter’s best friend. He could never.

Still, you liked Johnny. He was friendly and though he told his dad jokes, he was funny. He was confident. He knew how to cook and he was smart, and you liked that he always knew how to direct conversation. You and Johnny talked sometimes, usually whenever you stayed for dinner, or breakfast. He had never let you feel invisible, or like you were invading a space that wasn’t yours. He welcomed you.

But of course, he was also smoking hot. Smoldering, even. You recalled the first time you laid eyes on him, when you were visiting your best friend and he was in the front yard, mowing the grass. Sweats and a tanktop. Hair stuck to his forehead like a second layer. Drenched in sweat as he battled the summertime heat. Sometimes you still wondered if he caught you gawking, whether it was when you first saw him looking like that or when he told you that he was your best friend’s father and not her brother.

(You were even more surprised to hear that he was in his forties. He could have passed for late-twenties, and you almost scanned his head for a sight of a single grey hair but decided that would have been rude).

Yet as attractive as he was in every sense of the word, there came again the rough reminder that he was equally out-of-bounds. It always slammed roughly against you whenever you daydreamed about him, forcing you to remember that there was a boundary between you both. You could not have Johnny. And even if he were to want you, he couldn’t have you, either. God forbid you thought about how unrequited this was.

None of that ever stopped you from liking him, though. In your heart, there was still an ounce of hope that maybe something could blossom between you, weeding its way through the cracks of the invisible boundary.

What were those cracks? Easy: temptation.

Like any other day, Johnny looked absolutely mouthwatering. He wore a satin shirt and dark jeans, brown hair parted and his skin gleaming beneath the kitchen light. You desperately wanted to make your move right then, but your best friend crashing into your arms forced you to remember why you couldn’t.

“Gosh, I missed you,” Jessica cheered as she wrapped her arms around you firmly.

“It hasn’t even been three days since you last saw me,” you replied amusedly, nonetheless hugging her back. Jessica wasn’t your best friend for no reason. She was closer to you than anyone else, even your own parents. She knew everything there was to know about you. You knew that you could tell her anything, but this was different. You’d rather take this one to the grave.

She rolled her eyes as she loosened her embrace and let you go, “Whatever. Three days, three weeks, it all feels the same,” she said dramatically, making you both snicker. “But for real, my dad was like, just making dinner. Wanna join us?”

It had smelled delicious all the way from the front door. But that was Johnny for you, with cooking being one of his favorite habits. You would feel bad about eating their food though, so you leaned towards declining.

As if he could hear your reply before you said it, Johnny chimed in from the kitchen, “I made your favorite.”

That shut you up before you could reply. Your mouth hang open then closed, and after a moment of self-debate you opened it again. “Shit, pass me a plate,” you’d have to be running a fever or replaced by a shape-shifting alien to turn down Johnny’s chicken Alfredo.

You rested your backpack for now, ignoring their laughter as you strolled inside the kitchen.

By the time dinner ended, Jessica had to unexpectedly leave, mentioning something about a work emergency that you failed to completely catch. You didn’t mind too much, of course. It gave you the perfect excuse to stay in company of Johnny, and you even offered to help him wash the dishes as a thank you for dinner.

“Thank you for helping me with the dishes. You didn’t have to,” Johnny said, stretching his arm to put one final dish away in the cabinet. His sleeves were rolled up so you eyed his biceps like they were the meal, but forced yourself to look away before he could notice.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after you made such a wonderful meal, sir,” you replied respectfully. In the same breath, it took everything in you not to let your eyes trail down his body. His shirt was unbuttoned, leaving all the good stuff out in the open.

“Don’t flatter me,” Johnny joked. “Do you know how to cook?”

You couldn’t stop your laughter. “Of course not. I’m a safety hazard in the kitchen.”

Johnny snorted, “Why do you say that?”

“Sir, my expertise extends to instant noodles - hardly even that. One time, I burnt them and nearly killed my microwave.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. He knew now to keep you at least six feet away from his microwave, maybe even forbid you from touching his stove or oven. He also thought about giving you lessons. “How in god’s name did you do that?”

“I forgot to put water in them!” You explained, tone laced with shame. “Even if I did know how to cook, my skills are no where near yours. You’re like, the cooking connoisseur. I can’t imagine you forgetting to do something as simple as putting water in noodles.”

“It was an honest mistake,” he replied sympathetically. “But I like hearing about it. Tell me more about your failed cooking escapades.”

“God, where do I even begin? Let me tell you how I got banned from contributing to Thanksgiving dinner,” you said, and went on to explain the whole ordeal.

The way Johnny was snickering at you, it was almost like your conversation had the Victorious laugh track - except his giggles were genuine and the frequency of them didn’t irritate you. He had a beautiful laugh, one that made you simper. It went without saying that Johnny found you entertaining. He knew that he could never drink anything as long as he was around you, in fear that you’d have him spitting out his drink at every funny comment you made.

Johnny also let his eyes linger on your frame. Never had he ever seen anyone make skinny jeans look as stunning as you did, and it helped that your body was highlighted. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but chalked it up to your imagination running wild again. There was no way in hell Johnny Suh was checking you out.

Little did you know, that was exactly what Johnny was as doing. He so desperately wanted to fuck you then and there, but resisted. The opportunity would surface some other day, and to be honest he wanted to see where things would go. You weren’t half as subtle as you thought you were but he was going to play dumb until you quit these little games of your own.

“I’m an excellent cleaner, though,” you added once you concluded your story. Your lips curled into a smirk for the most brief moment, yet Johnny still caught it.

He also didn’t fail to catch the flirtatious undertone. “Yeah? Is that how you secured an extra slice of peach Cobbler versus all your hungry cousins?”

“And siblings. And uncles. And don’t forget my aunt’s seventh husband. But yeah, you get it. Favoritism also goes a long way.”

Johnny was amused, to say the least. He was still stuck on the fact that you had practically just offered yourself as a housewife to him, although it wasn’t necessary. He could think of plenty other ways to use you, other ways that you could put in work for him. It was tempting, but he was more determined to make you wait. He wanted to bottle you up until you exploded, and only then would he bother to clean up your mess.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway ended your conversation abruptly. He seemed quick to wrap things up once he heard the car door lock. “That’s Jess. Thank you, again, for your help. You two are probably about to study now so have fun, and make sure to tell her I’ll be working in my study!”

So typical of Johnny to drown himself in work. A workaholic if you knew one. You were disappointed by the conversation coming to an end, then aroused by a thought in even less time. You knew that he had to be exhausted and could only think about letting him take his stress out on you, bending you over his desk and fucking you with his entire being.

Shaking the thoughts away, you replied, “I will.” Inevitably would you revisit them (or they would revisit you, rather), but for now you had to focus about studying with your best friend.

You weren’t slick at all, and Johnny wondered if you knew that.

In the following week, you had been coming over more often. That in itself wasn’t suspicious, but he noticed that your clothes became shorter by the day. Nothing completely out of line, yet he couldn’t help but catch how the inches decreased day after the next. He noticed that you became less shameless in flirting with him. At one point he thought that the only way you could be any more obvious was if you confessed the truth, but then you started lying to him. You made up silly excuses as to why you showed up when Jessica wasn’t there, and he had a different plan.

As always, excitement flowed through your veins when you walked through his door. You were always eager to see him, and even more thrilled to show off today’s outfit - one of your favorite skirts paired with a cute top. To be honest, you didn’t know why you were doing this when you had nothing but your intuition to support you, but something told you to dress nicely today.

It was no shocker that Johnny did too. His sleeves were rolled up yet again, muscles peeking through the fabric, and you could only wonder if you’d ever have the luxury of seeing him completely shirtless. Jessica had mentioned earlier inviting you and another friend to chill in the pool this Saturday, but that didn’t mean her dad would be involved. You could only hope, though you were pulled away from the thought when you heard him call your name.

Cluelessly you blinked, asking dumbly, “Did you say something?”

The presence of a smirk was on Johnny’s face for a sliver of a second. You had caught it, and felt your cheeks warm at the thought that you had been caught staring - much worse spacing out - at him.

He repeated, “I said, what’s it today?” And you flushed some more. You obviously knew that you had been over more recently, that was the entire point. But something about him acknowledging it was thrilling yet frightening.

“You say that like I come over every day.”

“It sure feels like it. You might as well keep a key and put some of your things in the spare room,” Johnny retorted. Your heart sank a little at the thought that maybe you really were overdoing it, and sensing a drop in your mood, he added, “Hey, I’m just messing with you. How may I help you today, princess?”

Princess. He had no clue, you could be such a sucker for pet names. You didn’t even know if it was the pet name itself that had your knees wobbly or how it sounded rollling off his tongue, but you didn’t care. You were losing your mind and hardly covering it up.

You cleared your throat. “I left my notebook here, and I just wanted to pick it up.”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. “Jessica said that she dropped it off at your place this morning.”

Well, that backfired. It was true that you had left your notebook, and intentionally, but it wasn’t apart of the plan for Jessica to bring it back to you. Now you could only play dumb and pretend that you hadn’t known about it.

“Oh, um,” you were caught, and damn Johnny’s suffocating gaze for not helping at all. You felt like wilting beneath him while he stared at you like that - cynical and inscrutable.

Instead of giving you time to form a reply, Johnny only walked forward, and you had no where to run but backwards, until your rear hit the wall and you were grounded in place. “You wanna know what I think?” He crooned, hardly containing a laugh at how bewildered you looked. “I think that you haven’t been forgetting anything this whole time. I think that you wore this pretty little skirt, all for me.”

You gasped when his hand landed against your skin, raking up your thigh and underneath your skirt. In that moment, you were thankful that you had worn it. Johnny had complete access to your body, and you liked it. You liked how his gaze rooted you in place, still as though he would have somehow punished you for making any sudden movements. It was clear that you could have moved if you wanted, but even clearer that you liked the feeling of power he had over you. You wanted him to control you, to maybe push him to any surrounding limit to see just how commanding he could be.

“I think that you just want my attention, baby girl. Is that right?” He asked, as though he wasn’t feeling the answer. With his fingers circling your panties, you knew he was only asking for any other reason than confirmation.

You whimpered, “Sir, please.”

“Please, what?” Johnny questioned, playing clueless. He knew what you wanted. He had definitely known much longer than expected, you realized. All those times where you were so obviously flirting with him, he was choosing to play dumb and ignore your antics.

“Please touch me,” you begged.

Johnny smiled softly - condescendingly - but he still wore that fake confused expression on his face, “I am touching you though, aren’t I?”

Fuck, were you already getting tired of this. He knew damn well what you meant by touching you, and this wasn’t it. You wanted more. You wouldn’t care if he manhandled you right now, you just were in desperate need of his contact so then, and only then, would you be satisfied.

You could sound no more desperate as you whined, “Sir, please, I need more.”

He only laughed - dead in your face. “I don’t think that you deserve it.”

“I’ll do anything,” you knew that you sounded pathetic, but you had been waiting far too damn long for him to be teasing you like this. You couldn’t think of one reason why you wouldn’t deserve it, but there was already a mental list brewing of things you were ready to do to convince him. If a blowjob was what it would take, you’d be on your knees in an instant.

The offer tempted Johnny and he would be lying if he said that it hadn’t. But you had been teasing him for years now, and he wanted you to know how it felt when the tables were turned. If you were going to play games with him, then he was determined to beat you, to push you to every edge until you caved in to defeat. Johnny wanted you on your knees begging, and he was determined to have that. What better way to play than to give you nothing at all?

He liked the premise of you can look, but you can’t touch. There was no better way that he could punish you than by giving you a taste of your own medicine. Restraining himself was much more difficult than he had let on, but he knew you had half his patience at most. With the tricks he had up his sleeve, he’d have you caught inside his net in no time.

He tilted his head. “You want this?”

“Need it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Just as quickly, Johnny pulled his hand away from underneath your skirt, and therefore followed the little relief he had permitted you. An instant whimper fell from your lips, but it was clear as day that he didn’t care. His laugh mocked you, teased you, and you couldn’t fathom why he was playing with you like this. You wanted to ask him why he was toying with you, but he would beat you to any words.

“That’s too bad,” he replied, nonchalantly. “I want you to wait for it.”

You whined, “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

You didn’t realize how close he was to you until then. Nevermind how his eyes pierced holes through your skin and made you swallow hard, instantly making you regret saying anything. How you could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto you without him touching you - even if he practically was. How he towered over you and made you feel so much smaller in comparison to him, how he made you feel frozen in place with nothing but a mere glance. It was power. It was prominent in his eyes, whispering, You’ll do anything for me. You couldn’t tell if it was a simple statement or a demand, but it was true.

“Don’t you think that I’ve waited long enough?” His eyes were cold. You wanted to move backwards, but there was no escape. You were trapped beneath his gaze with no where to run. “Don’t be so selfish. You’ve been playing your little games with me for the past couple of years. Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

It was then that you realized what this was. It was revenge - sweet to him, yet so bitter to you. Karma really was a bitch.

You heard a car pulling into the driveway, and Johnny finally stepped away from you. “See you later,” a day, two days, a week - whatever amount of time defined the wait of later, it was too much. Call it greed. Call it selfish. But you just couldn’t wait. You wanted him. You needed him. Your body was yearning for touch, but you could feel nothing but cool air.

You needed Johnny now, and yet he refused to give himself to you.

It was finally Saturday, and you were nothing less than thrilled. The days in between now and the last time you’d seen Johnny felt closer to weeks and now that you had an excuse, you were going to be downright insufferable. As if you weren’t going to be insufferable either way. With the way things turned out during your encounter with him, you realized than instead of wallowing in defeat, you needed to play back harder. That meant leveling-up and making it known that you weren’t going down without a fight.

As you hoped, Johnny was also in the backyard. Jess had invited you and her crush Mark over for a pool day, and Johnny insisted on grilling for the three of you. You were ninety-nine percent convinced that you were half the reason, with him simply wanting to get at you - and that he did. He looked more mesmerizing than he usually did, sweat making his skin gleam, and it took you back to the first time that you’d seen him.

You shoved the memory into a dark corner in the back of your brain. Determination filled you to the brim, and you had just the trick up your sleeve to make Johnny lose his mind.

“Ready for the pool?” Jessica asked as you both stepped out onto the patio.

It was difficult to hide your smirk as you replied, “Born ready.” You had been planning this moment out for days, and you refused to let reality not match your expectations.

She rushed to get inside the pool with Mark, but you took your sweet time, waiting for the moment when you could feel Johnny’s eyes on you to drop the towel. It revealed a bright red bikini, and the look on his face when you glanced up to capture his reaction was worth a million bucks. He was looking at you like he wanted you, and that alone was enough to satisfy you.

Don’t burn the food, you mouthed cockily, just before sending him a week and diving into the pool with your two friends.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of mutual stares that lingered far too long, and by the time the day began to fade dull you had been in and out of the pool and Johnny had gone inside. With Mark and Jessica being equally sprung for each other it was easy for your third-wheeling adventure to begin, and you were yearning for more excitement, running out of battery from earlier’s thrilll.

Some time later, you all agreed to end the night here and Mark and Jessica decided to go on a walk before he went home. It being implied that you were going home, you all bid your good farewells to each other and headed out of the pool.

But when they left, there was Johnny standing on the patio, eyeing you as you stood by the edge of the pool. “Heading out?”

“I was,” you replied, but if he intended on staying out here then maybe you’d charge your mind.

“So not anymore,” Johnny smirked as he put the pieces together. “Let me join you.”

You shrugged, as a sign of not caring what he chose to do, in spite of the fact that your heart was racing. You sank back into the water, preferred it over the feeling of freezing air prickling your skin. Johnny’s eyes never left yours as he made move for the pool, but yours left his the moment he tugged his shirt above his head.

Of fucking course, he was ripped.

Feigning nonchalance was becoming difficult - your mouth watered and you could hardly stop your eyes from popping out of their sockets. To make matters worse, he looked even better in the water with his skin golden, water gleaming in the moonlight. The cocky look on his face proved he knew it all too well, and you were struggling now more than ever to restrain yourself.

“Bet you thought you were slick for what you pulled this afternoon.”

You smirked at the memory. Of course, you didn’t. The whole point was to provoke him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” Johnny groaned. It sounded hotter than it should’ve, and now you were ready to clip the conversation and cut to the action. “You walking around trying to provoke me.”

You retaliated, “I wouldn’t have to if you would just fuck me.”

It was clearly the wrong answer, you concluded from the way his eyes seemed to darken. He’d put you in your place right then and there if that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But it was, and Johnny knew that in spite of your front you were crumbling. It wouldn’t be very long before he had you bowing down at his feet.

He seemed calm, though the look in his eye was anything but. “I told you, you don’t deserve it,” Johnny replied patiently. You were a pain in the ass, but he still enjoyed making you wait. It was so obviously driving you crazy, and the day what little patience you had remaining dissipated, he was going to have so much fun with you.

“How can I earn it?” You asked meekly. It was slowly coming to you that Johnny had a resolve of steel, and it would take more than flaunty outfits to get under his skin. You didn’t know what to do and it was making you want to yank your hair.

“Behave,” he said, like you were a toddler. “And maybe I’ll consider it sooner.”

He was climbing out of the pool before you could even think of a response, and even when you called out his name he never turned around. You wondered what he was getting out of this. You knew that all your teasing played a major role, but it seemed to have the opposite effect of what was intended. Instead of wrapping him around your finger, Johnny walked further away from your spell. A part of you kind of liked it. Another part of you wasn’t sure how to adapt. Most boys came to you in a flock at the sight of skin, a little flirting here and there and they were your pawns. But Johnny was so much more complicated, and for once the instructions were unclear to you. You winded up frustrating yourself further instead in your attempts to frustrate him.

He was a puzzle with a million pieces and you couldn’t figure out how to put him together. A stranger you weren’t to challenges, but he was the toughest competition you’d face and the worst part was that he seemed to have you all figured out.

You always used to think that people were exaggerating when they expressed their desire for someone else. No feeling could ever be so strong as to tear someone apart that way. Yet now that you were in a position where something so close to you felt so far away, you finally understood. You finally knew what it meant to yearn for someone, and it was killing you slowly.

You craved Johnny. It didn’t matter if you were in the same room because he’d pretend as though everything was normal between you and you couldn’t fathom how he could ignore the tension so easily. Especially when it was all you could feel whenever you were in the same space together.

Next Friday was when things began to stir up. Jessica had invited you and Mark over for dinner and considering their obvious crush on each other, they sat beside each other. That left one seat remaining - the one across Mark, directly beside Johnny.

That’s how you landed yourself in this predicament. Johnny’s long fingers plunging in and out of you from underneath the table. It started with his hand simply resting on your thigh but then he started rubbing circular patterns, until he inched between them and underneath your skirt. You were fighting back noises and expressions, yet in contrast he joined in enthusiastically on the conversation like there was nothing happening beneath the table.

“Johnny, they’re right there,” you whimpered when no one was watching. You were thankful that Mark and Jessica were so invested in one another, it decreased your chances of getting caught sneaking around with Johnny since they hardly paid full attention.

“Guess that means you’ll have to be quiet then,” he whispered without a care in the world. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You could only give a casual, slight nod. If you spoke, you were at risk of letting out moans and that was the last thing you wanted.

Johnny purred, “Good girl.”

Fuck, that was hot. If it weren’t for your two friends sitting at the table with you, you would have moaned right then. All the titles and names Johnny called you made your skin feel hot and made your desire for him multiply. It felt like a test on your patience and you were failing.

In his attempt to act as though nothing was wrong, Johnny asked to no one in particular, “Any plans for the weekend?”

Jessica didn’t miss a beat. She announced excitedly, “Mark and I are going bowling. He sucks and wants me to teach him.”

“I do not suck!” Mark instantly protested. “I got a strike once!”

“Once, as in one time,” Jessica giggled.

Any other time, you would have leaped at any opportunity to tease Mark, but you couldn’t even focus on the rest of the conversation. Johnny’s fingers felt too good inside you, reaching impossible places with precise angles. You couldn’t lie, he did a magnificent job at pretending he was completely engaged in whatever conversation, but you could tell he had shifted most of his attention to you. Even without looking at you directly, it was almost like he could see your reaction and Johnny was determined to steer you right off of the edge.

Whenever a moan approached you, you bit your lip, hard. Or shoved a forkful of spaghetti into your mouth. Whatever you could do to prevent yourself from moaning. The brief glimpse of a smirk you saw on Johnny’s lips confirmed that he was enjoying this, but you couldn’t be mad. You were enjoying it too - especially considering this was probably the most you would get from him for a while, you could only be satisfied.

You were only snapped out of this trance when you heard your name called, snapping your head up in the direction of Johnny.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Huh?” Oh how familiar this situation had felt.

“I said, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Johnny reiterated, looking at you so normally that even you started to believe he wasn’t fingering you right now.

Oh, did you. If Johnny insisted on not fucking you any time soon, then you were going to have a good ole time with your pal, your vibrator. You couldn’t exactly say that though, and even if you could you wouldn’t dare speak more than three words at once. Not when you were so close. So you opted for simply shaking your head.

“Perfect. With Jessica gone I’ll need someone to help me repaint the walls,” Johnny joked, yet you could see right through what he was saying.

Jessica grumbled, “Dad, no. I told you I’ll help you when I get back.”

You forced your voice up as front as you could, “I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyways and,” you fought the sound back into your throat before you continued, “-and it’s the least I could do after leeching off you guys.”

“You’re not a leech,” your best friend reassured. “But if you really want to help him then suit yourself.”

If only she knew you couldn’t care less about the walls, not when you were focused on a completely different type. You wanted Johnny to paint your walls, simple as that.

Conversation didn’t die, but neither did the feeling between your thighs. They were trembling as you approached your orgasm, and you could feel it creeping up on you. You were about to duck your head to hide the pleasured expressions on your face until you couldn’t feel it anymore.

You nearly whimpered, staring at Johnny with only shock. It wasn’t really surprising considering everything that had happened since that day, but you were disappointed. Johnny kept dropping you off before you got to your destination, and you were sick of his teasing and being unable to do anything about it.

“Sorry, princess,” Johnny murmured, but he didn’t look the part even slightly, with a grin playing on his lips. “I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow.”

You guessed you could wait one more day.

730 days.

365 days.

2 weeks.

The countdown was done. The stalling and wait was over. The amount of days you had been waiting for this one specifically you had no clue, but none of that would matter to you anymore once you finally tested on your tongue the sweet taste of victory. You were ready.

You could feel nothing but nerves and exhilaration, but you liked it. You liked how you weren’t sure if you were breathing when you rang the doorbell, but you knew that you weren’t the moment Johnny opened the door. If you had a quarter for every time Johnny had left you breathless, you’d be rich. You couldn’t fathom how a man could look so attractive, and it wasn’t like he always put extra effort into it like you sometimes did. It was something raw.

Johnny smiled when he saw you. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied. You sounded relaxed, although you were anything but calm. The mere thought of the events bound to happen in the following moments had you overjoyed.

Johnny let you inside and shut the door. You didn’t get far down the hall before he pinned you back against the wall, the way he did the last time you had been in this scenario. But you knew the outcome would be different this time.

His stare was still hard and deep, but his grin never left. “Ready to paint some walls?”

Damn the walls. You weren’t even remotely concerned about anything that wasn’t on Johnny or in between your legs.

You held his gaze and smiled back as you joked, “Isn’t that your job?”

“I see you brought your jokes with you,” Johnny observed. Then his hand scooted underneath your skirt and squished your thigh. “And another pretty skirt.”

Melting into the warmth of his touch was your only option. You were so starved that you weren’t sure if the smallest touch was enough to get your gears in motion, or if your greed for more was insatiable and it would never be enough. Though it was certain that you wanted him, and concluding from the way Johnny was eyeing you like you were his prey, the feeling was mutual.

His hand crawled closer in between your thighs and the whole time you felt as though you were holding your breath. Johnny had a way of effortlessly making you defocus on anything that wasn’t your desire for him. You weren’t concerned about what was right or what was wrong. You weren’t concerned about the consequences. All you cared about was feeling his skin on yours and meeting him inside of the sheets.

“Just for you,” you murmured, somewhere on the verge of breathless. Johnny knew you weren’t lying or saying things just to make the moment. With your history, it was easy to believe you had picked it out especially for his taste.

The skirt was a personal favorite of Johnny’s. He had never stated it outright, but the way his eyes were constantly on you was more than enough confirmation. Of course you would use your speculations to your advantage - the moment had been dragged out enough and by now it was established that you were beyond impatient.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Wanna show me what’s underneath?”

More than anything. You wanted to lift up your skirt right then and there. Instead, you opted for nodding your head, unable to come up with any words let alone a sentence.

Johnny took no time to toss you up in his arms. He carried you into his bedroom and launched you onto his sheets, eyeing you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, princess,” he cooed.

For once, you had no smart reply - you just let him move on his own accord. You could feel the tension in the room soaring as he crawled above your body, silent and sly as he slithered between your thighs. Johnny could feel his mouth water as he pushed your skirt up, finally getting a full view of what was underneath. Your panties - pretty, lace, and blue (and drenched.)

He pushed them to the side. “Did you wear these for me, too?”

He honestly didn’t even have to ask. The two of you had been down this road before and it was simply a given that you dressed to impress him particularly. Keeping in mind his favorite color plus how much he fancied your wardrobe on you came naturally when you were this desperate.

You nodded again, then asked, “Do you like them?”

“Love them, baby. You look so pretty in blue,” Johnny murmured. His distracted fingers teased your folds and made your breath hitch. You were already wet, but his touch had you melting into a puddle on the mattress. “You ready?”

There was no hesitance in your voice as you whined, “God, yes.” The moment had already been dragged on too long and though you understood that Johnny would probably want to take his time with you, you needed things to pick up the pace, even if just a little.

“Good, because I wanna taste you.”

Johnny pushed your legs out a little more to give himself the room to roam between them. Then he started with pecks to your inner thigh, gentle and sweet and arousing. As if you weren’t aroused enough already. He admired the way your folds glistened with wetness - he knew that you most likely assumed he was taking his time out of being hell bent on teasing the life out of you, but that was only half of the truth. You were just so pretty that he wanted to savor the moment forever.

His tongue teased back and forth over your slit, almost tentatively as though he was only taste-testing you. When you needily bucked up your hips with a whimper, Johnny decided to quit his games and went in for the kill. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, slow enough to pay attention to detail yet fast enough so that you weren’t left hanging. You bit your lip when you felt him on your flesh. It didn’t subdue your sounds completely, but enough to where Johnny could tell that they were being muffled.

He drew back, dissatisfied by your lack of volume. “Don’t bite your lip. No one’s hear with us so I wanna hear you.”

You were a little dazed when you nodded, present physically yet mentally beginning to tune out. His lips distracted you, coated with a glossy layer of your slick. Minutes ago it was an image that had only seemed to exist when you closed your eyes, imagining this moment as you had longed for its arrival. Now it had become a reality and you were beyond blissful. You wanted to freeze time and prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.

The only thing capable of sucking you back out of your mind was the feeling of Johnny’s lips reattaching themselves to your skin. You couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from your mouth then even if you tried, caught off-guard as you were absorbed in your head. You could feel the smug grin dashing upon his lips but it was hard to care when he was practically sucking the life out of you. This was all you had ever wanted and needless to say Johnny didn’t disappoint not one bit. He was everything you imagined he’d be times two.

“F-feels so good,” you stammered. There was nothing to fake even if you wanted to, it genuinely felt good and he was serious competition for anyone that had ever gone down on you before. Your brain felt clouded and your skin felt hot and you liked it. Loved it.

Johnny would have been insufferable with the dirty talk if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was currently preoccupied between your thighs. You could already hear the words he’d probably say if he didn’t have a mouthful of pussy, “Yeah? You like that, princess?” Oh, and the never-ending pet names. You were usually fond of them, but he made them seem next level. Maybe it was his voice or some other factor, but you knew that you were attracted to it regardless.

On his end, Johnny was absolutely wrecked on you. From the way he’s going down on you, with an eagerness that only a starved man could possess (and in a sense, he was one), it’s no secret, either. With how well he managed to hide his desire it got difficult for you to remember that he wanted you as much as you did him, and that was an unsafe amount.

You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you steadily. Your gut was practically screaming it at you, and god you couldn’t wait to cum on his tongue. Every day after the next wasn’t simply edging, but plain orgasm denial. Today was the day the torture was meant to stop.

“Close,” you moaned, as if it weren’t obvious enough, “gonna cum.”

He hummed a muffled, “Yeah?” Johnny knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. Aside from the sensation tearing through your stomach, all the outwardly noticeable clues were the tremble of your thighs and the sounds you made. Though much to your misfortune, the next would be of disappointment instead of delight as he moved away from you yet again.

“Sorry, baby,” he for once sounded decently apologetic. “But I want you to cum when I’m inside you.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, although you didn’t have to. Johnny was set on his goal the moment he brought you into his bedroom.

“Trust me, I am. Come here.”

Your movements showed no hesitation as you crawled onto his lap. His lips latched onto your neck and aroused a subtle, soft gasp of surprise from you. You made no attempt to fight his actions though, his hands attacking your skin simultaneously as he tugged at the remaining articles of clothing. As his fingers went for your bra, yours came for his own clothes, unbuttoning his top and slipping it down his shoulders.

Johnny chuckled with amusement at how eager you were. Nevermind himself; he was pinning you back down against the mattress roughly, lips attacking your flesh as his hand slinked beneath your skirt. It wrenched your panties down your thighs and found your clit seconds later, meanwhile his mouth was practically glued to your skin, sucking at your chest, neck, and collarbone. Your neck was most likely covered in hickeys and you knew that, but it felt too good to get concerned over. You figured Johnny would probably have wanted to see them anyways.

The sounds you made each time were cute, but only made Johnny yearn for more. He was going to be an animal the moment he got inside you, wild, untamed, and hunting.

Johnny drew back one final time, knowing what he wanted and that he needed it now. He rummaged throughout the drawers of his dresser swiftly.

You crooked your head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Finding a condom. Practicing safe sex. Unless, you don’t want me to wear one. I’m clean.”

At that, you were chewing at your bottom lip. Your mind was filled to the brim with dirty scenarios you had thought of before, Johnny cumming inside and making you feel full. You knew the sex would be good either way, but damn it, your imagination had won today.

“I’m on the pill. You can go bareback, if you want,” you murmured, in your attempt to appear as though you hadn’t daydreamed about him fucking you raw.

And of course, he saw right through you. But he only grinned smugly and replied, “Say less. Get on your hands and knees.”

As expected, you took no time to comply. You crawled into position as soon as you heard the command, resting on your palms and knees with your back in an arch. Johnny grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath you, ensuring your comfort first. “You good, baby?”

You nodded. “All good.”

Johnny hummed. He positioned himself behind you not much longer, one hand clutching your waist and the other holding his dick as he then slid inside you. The two of you sighed out immediately in relief - you could feel his grip on you tighten the moment he entered you, and he heard the moan you chirped. There was no doubt that the little waiting game only made this moment better for the both of you, wanting each other in a way that was incomparable to any other feeling you’d ever experienced.

“Fuck, so b-big,” you stammered. You were as aroused as you could have possibly been, but Johnny still had a size you knew would leave you breathless once you saw it through more the print against his pants.

Easing in and out of you, Johnny cooed, “Dick too big for you, baby?” He wouldn’t pick up his pace until he was sure that you were entirely comfortable, and would give you the time to adjust if you needed it. He wanted you to enjoy this as much as he would.

You shook your head. “N-no, I can take it.”

Johnny sported a grin, proud. He whispered, “Good girl.”

He had dreamed of moments like this. Moments where it was just you and him, shutting the world out as you felt each other as closely as you possibly could. Moments where he was pressed deeply inside you, making you moan from every thrust. Moments where he would finally taste a slice of the heaven he had wanted for much longer than he could identify. Johnny had known you wanted him since before a couple of weeks ago. Before that evening in the kitchen, before he confronted you in the hallway, and way before your pool shenanigans. You had always been anything but subtle, and even if you weren’t particularly as bold as you were now, there was always a subconscious ache for him in you that he couldn’t help but sense. You didn’t know it, but you just couldn’t hide your lust.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well, just like you said you would, princess,” he whispered. That was all it took to make you weak. You were too dazed to tell for sure, but you knew you had probably moaned a little at his praise.

You pushed any other thought back into the spider-y corner in the deep shadows at the back of your brain. Thinking about anything other than Johnny and how he felt between your legs was nearly impossible, and you were relaxed in a way that you hadn’t been in a while. He was just so easy to melt into, someone that made you forget about every other minor and major problem and consequence you’d eventfully have to face.

While he was pounding you from behind, Johnny brought his hand right back underneath your skirt and to your clit. You weren’t surprised that he hadn’t taken it off since he was always unsubtle about his favoritism towards it, and he thought you looked lovely like this.

You whimpered needily, “Johnny.” His fingers were fast at work on you, and in the most positive way possible, you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“You feel so good, baby girl,” Johnny growled. If anything that only made you want it more, although you already him and he had you.

Sex with Johnny was already better than either of you had ever imagined. There had always been this picture in his head, but now that he could feel you taking every inch of him, he wanted to heighten the feeling and surpass the limits. It was the same for you — your fingers and vibrator could never compare to the feeling of having him inside your walls. He was driving you crazy and you were driving him even crazier.

Even if once was already know risky enough, you were already fantasizing about the next time. You were determined that you could do this “under wraps” thing with him if it meant that you could recreate this feeling again. It was too good to pass up, too good to only have once. There was something so intoxicating about how Johnny felt in you, and how he made you feel generally. Being underneath him alone was somehow one of the most pleasurable things you’d ever felt.

Keeping things under wraps, however, was going to be easier said than done. Not only did it mean keeping this a secret from your best friend, you couldn’t afford to have anyone else find out. But with how the bed creaked, and you were moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to know what was happening in his bedroom, you were going to need more than a good excuse. You could only hope the walls were thick enough to subdue most of your sounds. The only sounds audible in the room were skin-slapping, moans and grunts, heavy breathing and you swore that you could hear your heartbeat in your brain. You wondered if Johnny could hear it too, or if the banging in your chest was something that only you would be able to pick up on.

The force of Johnny’s thrusts knocked your body forward, enough to cause your face to crash into a pillow. He went at a tolerable pace - not too slow, yet not too fast - and yet, your heartbeat was racing. Maybe it was all the action unfolding around you, or maybe it was simply the exhilaration making your blood feel as though it was zipping throughout your veins. Whatever it was, you knew that you liked it.

There was nothing to not like — Johnny fucked you too good for that. It hadn’t surprised you not even a bit, but Johnny was better than anyone who had ever been between your thighs. He was relentless. The pressure your body felt right then was enough to make you implode.

That was when you could feel it approaching again. It was louder, even more prominent, and you were desperate for Johnny to make you cum. Now that you had finally proved to him that you deserved it, you would snap if he edged you even once more. You were tired of being denied pleasure, and you knew Johnny was tired of denying himself the sweet victory.

“C-cumming, Johnny please,” you begged, plea half-muffled into the pillow. You weren’t above it, not when your orgasm was in arms reach. Johnny had tamed you, and whatever shame or face you had to save was discarded ages ago.

“Fuck, yeah? Hold on,” he muttered.

Johnny changed your positions, moving from behind you to above you, and you underneath him. You glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what prompted the change.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Wanna see your face when you cum, baby girl.”

That made your heart flutter.

It was always painfully obviously when you were far from it. As long as whoever was fucking you was doing a good job, there was never a need to question it, and Johnny was doing a phenomenal one. Never had anyone had you as weak as he did and it was dangerous. You were addicted; and now that you were hooked, it was possible for you to take more of him than was safe.

Yet you couldn’t be bothered. Not now, not when you were so, so close to having it all. You didn’t care what was too much, because it didn’t seem like there was even a such thing as enough. You were on the brink of an orgasm, thighs trembling yet again and your face twisting with pleasure. Johnny hissed at how you were clenching around him, tightening his hold on your hips. He wasn’t at all very much far behind you.

“Johnny,” you cried out.

He leaned low, peppering kisses to your neck. “I got you, baby. Cum for me,” he crooned, almost as breathless as you were.

Moans tumbled from your mouth as you did exactly that, wounding your nails in the bare flesh of his back. Johnny was set off only moments after that, either by your expressions or how you were relentlessly clenching around him, painting your walls with his cum as he groaned sexily into your ear. You couldn’t move, barely even breathe as you rested against your sheets. Your chest rose and fell quickly, but Johnny kissing your skin soothed you; it made everything feel okay.

“How do you feel, princess?” He cooed beside your ear.

You answered through a shallow breath, sporting a grin as you replied, “Full.”

Johnny murmured, satisfied, “Good.” He was showing the utmost appreciation to your body and skin, kissing you and holding you and treating you so gently. It was like being beside him alone made the whole world disappear. He was still inside you, softened up, but he wanted to wallow in this feeling a little longer.

“We’ll do this again, right?” You asked. Maybe it was a little desperate, but you needed to know.

“Of course, baby girl. You thought we did all that waiting just to go one time?”

No, you wanted to say. It wasn’t that you had, but Johnny was unpredictable whenever he wanted to be. You needed a little confirmation, just to be safe.

Instead, you opted for shaking your head. “Will you make me wait again?”

“No,” Johnny shook his head back, “not unless you decide to be a brat again and need to be punished. Think you can be a good girl for me, babe?”

You smiled softly, bobbing your head. The last thing you wanted was to be put through that torture ever again, and if all it took to never experience it again was submitting to Johnny, then it was say less.

You had that out of the way. Johnny was accessible to you, and you to him. There was one small conflict now, you remembered as his phone began to ring, with the caller ID being daughter.

There was still another game that you both had to play; hide and seek.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny x reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny suh smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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pupyuj · 1 year

Text

→ “magic words.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— what was supposed to be a simple tutoring session turns into something more when the most popular student in the campus, jang wonyoung, opts to teach you a completely different lesson...

word count: 4.7k.

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!virgin!reader.

content warnings: smut, praise kink, mommy kink, overstimulation, semi-exhibitionism, fingering, begging.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: this one has some sort of a plot so it takes a while to get to the smut part,, hope this one was okay! (jang wonyoung pls marry me.)

next: your colorful secrets.

jang wonyoung was late.

you didn’t know why you were even disappointed. what did you expect from someone with her social status? rich, popular, and a bit of a snob… which was why it was a surprise when you managed to convince her to help you study for an english project. you really didn’t know how you did it. when your professor had told you that being aided by someone who was near fluent in the language could help, the only person that came to mind was wonyoung. she studied abroad once, has the top grades in class, and still looked somewhat more approachable than aeri uchinaga (the other student that could’ve helped you).

or maybe it was just your big dumb crush on the campus princess that willed you to talk to her on that miraculous day, but that’s completely unrelated to your current dilemma.

after five more minutes of waiting, you started feel disheartened. what if she was just playing a joke on you? it’s not like wonyoung was an angel; you’ve heard horror stories about some of the fucked up shit she has done in her time in the campus and even before that. so there was definitely a possibility that she tricked you into believing that she was truly into the idea of spending time with who was essentially a nobody, like you.

ten minutes passed, now you were just really, really sad. but your pride was too big, you didn’t want to walk out of that room looking heartbroken. what if wonyoung and her douchebag friends were waiting on the other side to laugh at you? you shuddered at the idea. you already face so much humiliation and scrutiny from being different than everyone else in this school when really they should be all like you: hardworking, passionate, and actually try to give a fuck about their studies instead of just partying every weekend.

twenty minutes later, well — you were nearly passed out. you rested your head on your arms, blinking sleepily at the lights that you dimmed slightly earlier. you decided that you were going to take a short nap, and then you’ll get to work on your own. screw wonyoung and her joke promises. you were hoping that the rumors weren’t true, that people just made them up because they were jealous of her and her money, her brains, and that pretty little face and those beauty marks and those unnecessarily attractive slender fingers. but she really is just like everyone else.

needless to say, you fell asleep. and you don’t exactly know for how long, because when you were shaken awake by someone, your head was seemingly in another dimension. you lifted your head from your arms and yawned softly, earning a laugh from whoever it was that woke you up. you rubbed your eyes, blinked, and tried to identify the person standing by the side of your desk and— oh, shit.

“w-wonyoung?” you asked with your eyes wide, staring at the tall, gorgeous girl clad in expensive attire that smiled down at you. were you dreaming about her again?

“the one and only,” jang wonyoung takes off her jacket and folds it neatly, putting it on one of the unoccupied seats across the table. “i know i’m super late. i had to find a real reason to come here other than, you know, just for shits and giggles. you should thank gaeul-sunbae for talking some sense into me.” oh. she couldn’t have said that in a nicer way?

“okay…” you murmured, nervously picking on the lint on your clothes for no reason.

wonyoung settles herself beside you, sipping on a cup of iced coffee. she slides a full cup to your side of the table, “that should wake you up.”

“you didn’t have to get me one…” you replied timidly but accepting the cup nonetheless.

“oh, i didn’t. gaeul-sunbae got that for you and told me to give it to you because apparently, it was the least i could do for making you wait for over an hour. huh,” wonyoung puts down her cup, leaned back on her chair, and looked at you, smirking. you tried your hardest not to blush at the way her eyes completely raked over your figure. you shifted uncomfortably on your seat, suddenly finding your skirt too short or your uniform too tight. “maybe she has a crush on you. ha! well, that’s quite a jump. from that hot soccer captain in that other university, ahn yujin-ssi, to you.” wonyoung giggles.

god, really? you held back the urge to groan, or roll your eyes, and just smiled awkwardly at her. you were seriously regretting having that dumb crush on her. she was pretty, but her mouth and the things that come out of it made it hard to truly like her.

“i doubt that…” you said, picking up your pen and opening up a novel. the very same novel you had a hard time understanding, and the very same novel that you hoped wonyoung would help you understand but that didn’t seem likely now. seeing that all she wants to do is insult you.

wonyoung doesn’t say anything else, merely fishing out her phone from her bag and silently scrolling up, completely forgetting the reason she was here in the first place. you sighed, tired eyes skimming through the words in your novel. every single word you read just went over your head, and you really hoped wonyoung would notice how helpless you looked but she was… well, she was taking photos of herself. you took your eyes off your novel to do nothing but stare at her. truthfully, you would also drop everything to take photos of yourself if you were wonyoung because she did look particularly good in this day.

“why do you even need me? you’re supposed to be super smart. aren’t you on scholarship at this school?” wonyoung suddenly asked while still posing. you flinched, immediately turning back on your novel in hopes that wonyoung wouldn’t know that you have been staring this entire time.

(she did. but whatever. everybody stares at her.)

“t-that’s exactly why i need you, though,” you said. wonyoung chuckles. you blushed at what your words may have implied. “i want to keep that scholarship, but i-i’m not that very good at english and you’re… you’re great so i thought you could help…”

wonyoung closes her phone and puts it down, “well, aren’t you adorable. i kinda get why gaeul-sunbae is obsessed with you. don’t tell her i said that.” were you some kind of inside joke between her and gaeul or something? you doubted that the popular senior actually gave a damn about you, so maybe wonyoung was just pulling words out of her perfectly fine ass.

you really needed to stop talking like that.

“don’t start crying now. i’ll help.” wonyoung brings her chair closer to yours. maybe a bit too close for your liking, but her perfume calmed your senses so you appreciated the lack of respectable distance nonetheless. she takes your novel from your hands and without a word, she examines it. the front cover, the back, the first few pages, and the chapter you were reading. you watched intently as she did her work, and you couldn’t hold back squirming in your seat because of course jang wonyoung looks fucking hot when she starts taking things seriously.

her eyes flicker back onto yours and she catches you staring. you didn’t even make an effort to look away. it was too late anyway. wonyoung wordlessly stared back at you, eyes completely devoid of emotion so you couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed of you for staring or not.

“this isn’t what we’re studying in class.” wonyoung said.

“n-no. i’m reading it for myself. i want to write a thesis on it.”

“a what? so, you’re saying you’re doing this for fun? you have that much time?” wonyoung looks at you in disbelief. she puts down your book, almost offended at this reveal.

“that’s how i study. if i can’t prove to myself that i understand whatever i’m doing then i pretty much failed at that subject.” you confessed.

wonyoung groans, throwing her head back. you stared shamelessly at the curve of her neck, and had this sudden urge to kiss her. what the fuck. “i thought you were going to write a dissertation with how you made this whole thing sound so urgent yesterday. turns out it’s just a cute little project, and for yourself! you’re wasting my time, you know.” the tall girl said.

again, you felt sad. you grabbed the book from her side of the table and pouted as you looked at the cover, “w-well, you’re free to leave if that’s what you think…”

“you won’t cry?” wonyoung asked. you took note of the teasing evident in her voice and rolled your eyes.

“why would i—”

you looked at her and found your words getting stuck to your throat. it was weird, because wonyoung was literally just sitting there and yet she looked so… there's really no other way to put it in your lovesick little head. wonyoung looked regal. arms crossed, sly smile, eyes shining with mischief, and one long leg crossed over the other, hiking up her skirt just a little. you immediately looked away, but you were too late. wonyoung knew exactly where you were looking at.

“oh, i see,” wonyoung giggles and leaned forward, propping her arm up on the table and putting her chin on her palm. you avoided her stare, but you couldn't hide your red ears. “gaeul-sunbae’s gonna be really disappointed to hear about this.”

“please, stop with that. gaeul-sunbaenim is not interested in me.” you say in an attempt to divert her attention.

well, much to your dismay, wonyoung wouldn’t let up just like that. she completely disregards what you were saying. “i guess you’re kinda cute. in an almost pitiful way.” she says, eyes examining your features way too intently. “intelligent, decent, and you don’t dress that bad…” the tall girl continues on, taking note of the accessories you have on your wrists, neck, and hair.

you really didn’t know if she expected you to thank her.

“i’d say innocent too, but that's not all true, is it?” wonyoung moves closer, her perfume once again wafting into your nose and nearly intoxicating you. she places a pretty hand on your thigh, smirking at the way you flinched and hid behind your book. “since i’ve lost interest in whatever you actually want to do, how about we do something that’s actually worth my time?” she says, prying your book off of your hands and putting it on the table.

“i-i can’t skip classes. i was serious when i told you that i want to keep my scholarship—”

“don’t worry. you won’t be stepping a foot outside of your beloved school for this activity.”

see, there were a lot of things that you didn’t believe were true in the world. one of them being your brother allegedly not being free earlier this morning to give you a ride to school because he had something important to do, when you knew he just wanted to play video games until he had to leave for his classes. and now, you have something you can add on the list: jang wonyoung kissing you.

you were waiting to be woken up again, convinced that this was all just a very detailed and prolonged dream. but wonyoung bites your lower lip and nothing happens. other than you moaning softly, obviously.

“i knew you’d like this.” wonyoung mutters before grabbing you by your necktie and pulling you closer. her tongue tasted like coffee, mint, and peaches, and her lips were so, so soft. you were on cloud nine; how many people can say their totally unattainable crush kissed them first?

still, despite liking wonyoung’s lips and the warm feeling on your chest, you couldn’t help but gasp and move away once her hand squeezed your breast.

“what?” wonyoung asked, a bit annoyed.

“w-what are you doing?” you asked back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“...trying to fuck you? i don’t understand what was so misleading about my intent there.” wonyoung says, looking at you like you were the crazy one.

“how is sex so casual to you and your friends…?” you mumbled. you said all that but the thought of wonyoung touching you like that made you feel certain things in your lower region that you really did not want to know about. or maybe you did, but you were just terrified.

wonyoung, utterly confused, quirked up an eyebrow. “why wouldn’t it be to you? wait,” the tall girl takes another second to look at your bright red cheeks, and the way you squeezed your thighs together presumably to calm that feeling in your core. and then she laughs. “of fucking course, you’re a virgin.”

having your crush find out that you haven’t been touched all your life and laugh at your face about it was not in your bingo card.

“that’s putting it lightly… you’re even my first kiss.” you admitted. you absentmindedly touched your lips with your fingers, smiling as you remembered the way wonyoung’s felt when she had been kissing you.

the tall girl stares at you, there was a softer look in her eyes that made you melt. “ugh, you really are fucking cute. you’re making me feel really bad about poking fun at you earlier.” (and that was definitely new. jang wonyoung never feels bad.)

you shrugged, simply accepting that that was her personality, as brutally honest as she was. you started packing up your things half-heartedly after minutes of silence. a part of you was mad at yourself for cutting off that kiss earlier. maybe you would still be kissing wonyoung right now if you hadn’t stopped her, or maybe you’d be doing something more.

“where are you going?” wonyoung asked, looking up at you since you were now standing.

you pulled at your uniform, “y-you said this was a waste of your time so… i think i’ll just study on my own. t-thank you, though. for the coffee and… that other thing.”

just as you made a step towards the door, wonyoung stands up and catches your wrist in a tight grip. “you’re killing me, (y/n).” wonyoung muttered. she pulls you close, which causes you to drop your bag to the ground and nearly crash into her.

“because you’ve somehow managed to make me feel soft inside, you’re getting laid.”

“i’m getting what—”

“i’m gonna fuck you, (y/n). seriously, what era are you from?”

and with that, wonyoung kisses you again. she wasn’t as gentle as before. her hands were on your hair, tugging and pulling. you didn’t know where to put your hands exactly, but wonyoung noticed this somehow took one of your hands with her own and placed it on her hip. you tried to keep up with her as much as you could, not at all aware of how messy you really were with the way you kissed.

unsurprisingly, wonyoung was annoyed at this and pulled away, “this isn’t a slobbering competition. can you calm down?” she says.

“i can’t. i really like you—”

“fuck. you’re pathetic.” she kisses you again, and you really didn’t know if you should have felt insulted or flattered. a part of you wanted to see how far you could go, this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing after all, so this time around you actually tried kissing her better. wonyoung moves, she’s got your lower back pressed against the desk and her hands on either side of you while you hold her face. she lets you control the kiss, smiling slightly since she found you so, so endearing.

wonyoung sneaks a leg in between your thighs and presses her knee against your buzzing core, making you moan into her mouth. she takes off your school-issued blazer and throws it mindlessly in some unknown corner, then she takes your necktie and slowly tugs you towards the small couch in the room, all while keeping her lips on yours. she unfortunately breaks the kiss and sat down on the soft cushion, leaving you standing in front of her, confused and out of breath.

wonyoung leans back on the couch, smirking, “come on, baby. give me a show.”

you didn’t know what she meant, and you were too afraid of turning her off by asking. but by the way she licked her lips as her eyes scanned you up and down, you just did the next best thing you could’ve thought of doing. you pulled off your necktie and you must’ve done something right because wonyoung’s smirk only widened, urging you to continue on undressing yourself. next, you started unbuttoning your white shirt, revealing your silky cream-colored bra. and finally, you pulled off your panties, just so you wouldn’t have a hard time doing it later.

wonyoung was more of an open book than you expected because it was quite easy to tell that she really like what she was seeing.

patting her lap, wonyoung beckons you over, “sit.” she said. you let your shirt fall to the floor and did as you were told, settling yourself on the taller girl’s lap. you shuddered at the feeling of her thigh against your bare cunt, and fought the urge to ride her.

“it’s always the quiet and nerdy girls like you, hm? hiding all of this behind a book and some straight A’s…” wonyoung’s pretty hands explore your body; from your back, your chest, your stomach, and to your thighs. she enjoyed the way you shivered and slightly moved yourself, desperate for some friction in that area. she plants a small kiss on your collarbone before smiling up at you and attacking your neck. she sneaks a hand underneath your skirt and palms your dripping pussy, her long fingers parting your folds and her thumb just barely brushing your clit.

your soft moans filled the air as wonyoung marks you up. she favored your chest, leaving hickies all over it. she leans back, staring at her work proudly. you took her face in your hands, tilting her head up slightly and then putting your lips on hers. you could feel her smiling as she kissed you back. she found your enthusiasm entertaining, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to do all the work. you boldly pushed your tongue past her parted lips, bravely exploring her mouth. your heart starts beating erratically upon hearing wonyoung’s muffled moans. her voice was so pretty.

suddenly, wonyoung inserts a finger knuckle deep inside you, making you gasp into her mouth and pull away from her lips. the tall girl laughed, “that caught you off guard?” as if she wasn’t looking directly at your widened eyes and gaping mouth. wonyoung pulls her single finger out slowly and pushes it back in, watching as your face contorted from the tiniest bit of pain you were feeling.

“one more?” she asks, but she doesn’t give you a chance to reply and goes ahead and inserts a second finger, making you whine and hug her. wonyoung giggles against your chest as she quickens her pace, relishing in the feeling of her fingers smoothly going in and out of you. the pain was quick to go away, and soon enough you only felt pleasure.

“you’re so tight, baby,” wonyoung wraps her free arm around your waist to keep you steady. she curls her fingers inside you and you moan loudly in her ear. “i’m glad i got to you first. i guarantee you nobody else can fuck a pretty little thing like you as good as i can.”

wonyoung looks up, staring at your features while you try to keep yourself as quiet as you can. the walls weren’t soundproof after all, and the librarian could very well just open the door and invite herself in to check on the students occupying the room. upon realizing this, you threw a quick glance at the door, worried out of your mind. wonyoung notices and gives you a kiss on the cheek to grab your attention, and she was successful.

“nobody will care. plus, you’re with me. you’ll be fine,” she said. she holds onto your waist tighter as she moves her fingers even faster. you clutched onto her shirt, biting your lip but unsuccessfully holding your moans back. “be as loud as you want, baby. let this whole school know who’s fucking you.”

wonyoung couldn’t even begin to tell you how turned on she was right now. you were falling apart before her eyes, the prim and proper (y/n) (l/n) being reduced to this… and knowing that it was all for her… wonyoung doesn’t know if she could hold herself back from completely ruining you on the spot.

“mmhn… ahh— mommy..! mommyy…”

well, shit.

wonyoung was pleasantly surprised. she chuckles, “what? say that again, love.”

you shook your head, embarrassed. “it… it just—fuck—it just slipped out.. i’m sorry…”

wonyoung presses her thumb on your clit and rubs it roughly, “say it.” you whined loudly. that felt too good.

blinded by pleasure, you fulfill wonyoung’s wish. “m-mommy… mommy, ruin me, please…!” you started moving your hips, meeting wonyoung’s thrusts and somehow it made everything feel better by about a hundred percent.

wonyoung was considerably happy. “good girl. can you take one more?” again, she asks but she doesn’t wait for you to answer. now three of her long fingers were inside you, just completely pounding into you mercilessly. the tall girl watched as you basically fucked yourself into her hand. shit, she could cum by the sight of you alone. you were even more beautiful when you were a mess… wonyoung has to fuck you more after this.

“this is a better look for you… none of that honor student bullshit. don’t you like being fucked stupid like this?” wonyoung says, once again curling her fingers and smirking as you throw your head back in pleasure.

you managed to choke out an answer. “yes, mommy… i do, i do…”

never in your life did you ever expect to be calling your crush, the untouchable jang wonyoung no less, such a nickname and even more so, getting fucked by her in a semi-public setting! you were sure to get weird looks from people who might be outside, and the news will spread like wildfire of course but you didn’t care for any of that. not right now, at least. because why else would you think of anything but the girl who was taking you to the stars?

“feels good, yeah? want more, baby?” wonyoung was saying. she herself was getting her panties soaked the faster you were riding her fingers, but she was going to have to take care of her own problem later. she couldn’t take her eyes off of you, after all.

“mmhn.. more…”

wonyoung clicks her tongue, “magic words.” she brings her hand down to your ass, making you whine.

you immediately comply — you were chasing after something that was unknown to you, but you desperately wanted it. and you knew only wonyoung can help you get there. “p-please, mommy… i want more…” you said, looking directly into wonyoung’s eyes and watching as her pink and plump pillowy-soft lips spread into a satisfied smile.

“mhm. you learn quickly, don’t you? what a good girl.”

fucking hell. did everything that came out of her mouth have to sound so hot?

as promised, wonyoung gives you ‘more’. she shifts herself slightly up on her seat, holds your waist in a death grip and whispers, “put your arms around me.” then, she pulls her long fingers out almost all the way before plunging their full length back inside you, deeper than it has ever gone. the sound that left your mouth loud, dirty, and wonyoung could hear the pain beneath all pleasure.

she repeats her action, and you finally understood why she told you to hold onto her because holy fuck you were going to fall off her lap. you wrapped your arms around wonyoung’s neck and held her close, screaming into her ear every time she brushes past your sweet spot.

“w-wony.. wonyoung— mommy..! i feel weird… i feel weird, i feel weird…!!”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. it’s supposed to feel like that,” wonyoung starts kissing up your neck again, stopping directly under your jawline and leaving another hickey there. “you’re doing so good, baby. we’re almost done. just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?” she pats your ass, gently rubbing on it to ease the sting that her slap left earlier.

you shook your head, “i c-can’t… stop, stop… please..!” you were feeling too many things at once. you wanted whatever this was all leading up to but it was overwhelming. you wanted it to be over but you wanted to prove something to wonyoung, as if ‘holding on’ for longer like she asked would get you a medal from her or something.

“okay, okay… let go, then. it’s okay…”

wonyoung hits a spot and unexpectedly, the pressure in your stomach tightens and breaks in a second. your entire body stiffened as you came undone on wonyoung’s hand with a long, loud moan mixed with a sob. wonyoung shushes you gently, using her free hand to caress your back. she pulls out her other hand from your cunt, it was completely drenched with your juices.

you leaned back after getting a hold of yourself, albeit only a little, and watched as wonyoung licked her fingers. fuck. what you would give to engrave that moment in your mind.

“feeling alright?” wonyoung asked, brushing your damp hair away from your face with her dry hand. you looked exhausted and fucked out. it was hot. wonyoung’s core was throbbing like crazy. she wanted to get off to you so bad. you nodded weakly at her question, even though you didn’t look and feel ‘okay’. you were feeling a lot of fucking things, that’s what.

“t-thank you…” you said suddenly.

wonyoung tilts her head to the side, “for what?” seriously, you were so cute. with your flushed cheeks, eyes glistening with tears, and hair a big mess.

“...you know what for.” you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. wonyoung laughs—music to your ears—and pulls you close by your waist, hugging you and kissing your bare shoulder.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying anything for god knows how long. you would ocassionally lift your head and wonyoung would kiss you, then softly asking if you were okay, or if you needed anything. sometimes, she just looked at you, tugging at your heartstrings and making you wonder just what she was thinking. (‘how come i have never seen you before?’)

eventually, however, it was time for both of you to leave as you had some actual studying to do and wonyoung, well, she has a party to attend. typical.

“hey, i’m giving you my number.” wonyoung says when you finally managed to make yourself look tidy and somewhat presentable. you knew that hickies were all over your neck, but you were too tired to lose your head over them.

“uh, why?” you asked, reluctantly pulling out your phone but not handing it over just yet.

“oh, no reason. i give my number away for free. it’s a thing i do.” wonyoung replies in an exaggerated tone. she snatches your phone from your hands, rolling her eyes at your apparently ridiculous question. her actions reminded you that yes, wonyoung will always be a snob through and through. even after giving you the best fuck of your life.

“ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically. you barely caught your phone when wonyoung mindlessly dropped it on your hands in retaliation. you weren’t going to lie though, having your crush put her number on your phone was a dream come true. you looked at your screen, ready to send wonyoung a quick message so she can save your number when you noticed the name she gave herself.

mommy💘

before you could say anything, wonyoung puts a single finger on your lips and winks, “call me when you need ‘help’ again, baby.”

#ive smut #ive x reader #ive imagines #ive x fem reader #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #girl group smut #girl group x reader #girl group imagines

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Text

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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illyrianbitch · 2 months

Text

One Summer— Part Three

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: alcohol use, mention of drugs, mentions of scars (azs hands), slight Tamlin slander (lighthearted tbh), reader being observant, az being… well az :)

Word Count: 4.7k

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✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Introduction to Philosophy was taught by professor Jeff Davids.

It was one of the smaller classes you’d taken in freshman year. Though many people took it to fulfill a General Education requirement, it was more significant for you. It marked the beginning of your Philosophy major and a longstanding obsession with the ideas of ancient thinkers.

It was the same for Morrigan and Feyre, both of whom you met in Professor Davids’ class. Like you, they were Pre-Law students. And while you’d sat with Feyre on the first day out of pure chance, you were sure that it was fate that pulled you both into an assigned group with Mor— and Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. The three boys had chosen Intro to Philosophy because it had enough seats for all of them.

There were many things you remembered about your Intro to Philosophy class. Professor Davids was a rockclimber, the Allegory of the Cave was one of the most well-known philosophical concepts, Cassian always came ten minutes late, and Mor’s first major presentation was an in depth and perfectly executed criticism of Plato’s The Republic. You remembered it clearly. She argued against the idea of Plato being classified as the ‘first feminist’. Even if you hadn’t already shared Mor’s belief that Plato fell short of feminist ideals, her presentation would have won you over. Just two months into your friendship, Mor had already made a lasting impression. You remembered her eloquence, the way she commanded the room—a woman of honor and dignity.

It was strange, in an endlessly entertaining way, to see the same woman before you now down on one knee, chugging the last of her drink in the Summit Pulse parking lot.

She let out a belch as she stood and Cassian responded with an approving whistle, giving her a sloppy high five. “Fuck,” she said, gingerly dabbing at her smeared lipstick. “Can someone pass me my bag?”

Summit Pulse had officially begun twenty-five minutes ago, at 11:30 AM. You’d arrived at 11, found two open parking spots, and began your small, almost humble, tailgate— consisting of various seltzers, shooters, and beers for the boys.

You’d driven in two cars: Feyre and Rhys in one, and Az, you, Mor, and Cassian in the other. It was more economical to get two parking passes for the three days, so the boys had devised a plan. The idea was simple: whoever wasn’t driving in the morning would get heavily intoxicated right from the start, making full use of the tailgating privileges. Since the sets ended around 10 PM, by the end of the night one of them would be sober enough to drive. For today, Az was the designated driver, while Cassian would take over for the ride home.

Rhysand’s plan was far simpler. He would only drink modestly throughout the day— but no matter what, he was driving home. This was for two reasons. First, no one but him was allowed to drive his car anyway, and second, he didn’t want Feyre to be worried about her ride home.

When you’d asked the boys why they hadn’t included you, Feyre, or Mor into the shifts, they had shrugged and adamantly opposed. According to them, it was their job to take care of you, to let you have fun at a festival knowing you’d have three eyes watching over you. Not to mention that they knew their alcohol tolerances better than you three.

Rhys, with a sly smile, had also pointed out that your edibles made predicting sobriety a bit unreliable.

He was right, of course, so you didn’t argue— even if you hadn’t brought them today.

You handed Mor her bag. Her nimble, ring-clad fingers dug through it as you grabbed your phone, offering the camera screen to her as a makeshift mirror. She sung out a small thank you in response.

It was already hot out, a fact you’d prepared for but nonetheless hated, and the seltzers in your stomach gurgled in the heat. It suddenly crossed your mind that you should’ve had a heavier breakfast. But the morning had been chaotic, so you were now forced to rely on the festival food— food that was bound to cost three times as much as it would outside of festival grounds.

Two voices joined the sounds behind you and you cranked your head in time to watch Feyre bound over, a bounce in her step. She wore simple shorts and a flowy, linen tank that swayed with her movements. The look of it seemed to perfectly pair with the outfit Rhysand wore— white linen shorts and a short-sleeved button up, a few more buttons undone than necessary, of course. An image flashed into your mind of a very probable future: Feyre and Rhys married in this very city, white linens and salt-air breezes at their reception.

Cassian and Azriel would fight for best man, of course, and when they were both asked, they’d fight about which was number one and which was number two. Feyre’s maid of honor would be a much more nuanced choice, balanced between her two sisters and you and Mor.

At least, if you and Feyre were still friends by then.

You pushed the thought away— a silly, irrational, and anxious thought. They appeared a lot, especially when you weren’t as busy as you’d conditioned yourself to be these past few semesters. It was strange how those thoughts manifested when you were at your happiest. But there was no room for those this summer. You’d told yourself this over and over. One summer to just live, you repeated in your mind, one summer to exist.

Feyre wrapped her arms around your shoulder, tight enough to give you a welcome squeeze but tender and careful so as to not disrupt your mirror duties.

“You smell good,” you told her as the sweet smell of pear reached your nostrils. She met your eyes from the side as you grinned. “Look even better too.”

A small blush painted her cheeks and Feyre smiled. “You think?”

You nodded and Mor ran a gentle nail around her lips, picking up the excess red gloss with her nails. You watched as she struck a pose.

“And how do I look?”

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that seemed to intensify by the second. Her excitement grew as the drink she chugged began making its way through her system.

“Good enough to get free drinks.”

You felt Feyre nod in agreement against your shoulder.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Summit Pulse had been going strong for hours and you were riding the high of it all. The sun was still glazing in the sky, your ears were still ringing, and the crowd's anticipation for the next set was almost tangible despite it not starting for another hour.

You guys had staked out a great spot near the front, close enough to give you a full view of the stage. Sadly, you hadn’t come early enough to get barricade, but you were more than content with the place you held in the growing crowd. Az and Cass had ventured off some time ago to grab more drinks and a small, worrying voice in the back of your mind began to worry that the two boys would struggle to rejoin the group.

You tried to pay it no mind, focusing on the game of Heads Up you were playing with Feyre and Mor. Feyre held her phone to her forehead and prompted the next word to come.

SPRING.

You and Mor exchanged a conspiratorial glance, gently pushing one another to create a space between your two bodies. A mirrored grin grew on your faces— ones with such childish glee and mischief that Feyre immediately picked up on the shared thought.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. She dropped her hands to her side. "No," she whined, "Please don't."

You frowned in feign confusion, bringing a hand to cup your ear. "What?" you exclaimed, "I can't hear you." You looked back at Mor, watching as the face she formed mimicked yours. "Do you hear anything?"

Rhys fought to suppress a grin, wrapping his arms tighter around Feyre as she let out another helpless groan. He gave her a kiss to the temple as he leaned in further, eyes bouncing between you and Morrigan.

"I-" Mor stopped, bringing a hand to her chest as she exaggeratedly examined her surroundings. "I think it sounds like….like…"

Rhysand leaned into Feyre's ear. "Like Spring?"

"Oh god," Feyre whined. The sound fell on deaf ears. "Kill me."

Tamlin Spring was Feyre's boyfriend in freshman year, a first love so smitten with her that it bordered on slightly creepy— teetering across that fine line of obsession and adoration. You found Tamlin tolerable in small portions, but the others hated him with a passion. In truth, they hated a lot of people, your ex boyfriend included, and you just chalked that up to the reality of growing up in the same small city with the same people. You thanked eighteen-year old you everyday for choosing to attend college in a different state.

"Spring, you say?" you chimed in. Mor mimicked the motion of drawing a bow across a fiddle. She gave you a look and without missing a beat, you launched into a memorized dance, feet bouncing in an exaggerated jig while your hands moved as if playing invisible fiddles.

This abomination of a dance was one you and Mor had created one random drunken night—- a way to commemorate the infamous serenade Feyre had received from Tamlin post-breakup. At the beginning of their relationship, Tamlin's musical talent was impressive, even charming. But when he pulled out his fiddle and played what was meant to be a heartfelt apology, it left Feyre cringing and you unable to defend him anymore. Thus, the iconic dance was born.

For what it counted, the tradition to embarrass Feyre with your performance of it lasted longer than their relationship ever did.

Feyre's face was three shades redder by time you found yourselves unable to continue the dance any longer. She leaned her head back against Rhysand's chest as he laughed and hugged her tighter, apologizing for his own musical incapabilities. She tucked her phone tightly away in her pocket, muttering some off handed comment that she was never playing ever again.

You were still giggling and catching your breath as Azriel and Cassian returned, slowly making their way through the crowd— each holding a fresh, cold can of beer. Azriel's face was neutral as always, but a glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes as they met yours. Cassian, on the other hand, wore his usual broad grin. He murmured polite, flirty pleasantries to every pretty woman they brushed past.

"Damn," Cass said, filling in the space Mor had saved for him by proxy of a strange, wide-legged stance. You’d done the same for Az. "Did I miss you hitting the Tamlin?"

You and Mor let out another shared round of giggles and Feyre groaned into the sky once more. Cassian turned to Rhys with a grin.

"Do you two have no shame?" Az said, settling into the space between you and Feyre. He took notice of Mor's lingering gaze on his drink and offered his can to her eager hands.

You shook your head, a grin plastered on your face as Mor brought the drink to her lips. The two of you made eye contact, and maybe it was the buzz of the drinks you’d already had, the tiny high making everything funnier, but you couldn’t hold back a laugh. Mor followed suit, the sound coming out of her in a wet snort as Azriel's drink sprayed everywhere.

Once you both finally calmed down, Mor pushed Azriel's drink back to him with an extended hand, batting her eyelashes as she met his gaze. "Thanks, Az. I needed that."

"I'm good. That's all yours now." Azriel pushed the can back to Mor with a single finger, a look of playful disdain on his face. His eyes, however, shone with amusement—enough to show that he wasn't really angry, not even disgusted, despite his expression. "I'll get a new one later. Preferably with less spit."

Mor offered him a sheepish smile. "My bad."

She offered the can to you next. You narrowed your eyes at it for a moment, then shrugged with a resigned smile and raised it to your lips. You felt Azriel's gaze on you, noticing the amused, skeptical eyebrow he raised. You waited for him to say something, to speak in that low tone he often preferred in public, but he only shook his head, chuckling softly.

His eyes lit up a few seconds later.

"Wait a second,” he said.

Azriel's gaze flicked to Cassian, and without a word, he started patting him down. Cassian angled his head to the side, brows furrowed as Az’s hands wandered around his form. “Dude,” he said, “What's with the hands?”

Azriel didn’t respond, continuing his search with focused intent. He wrapped a palm around Cassian’s exposed biceps to face him further, finally reaching the fanny pack strapped to his broad chest.

“Got it,” Az declared. When he pulled away, you caught sight of the device in his hand. Cassian paused for a moment, and you could see an out-of-pocket response on the tip of his tongue, but he simply shrugged and rejoined the conversation he had left with Feyre and Rhys.

His camera was held securely in his hands as Azriel turned back to you and Mor. Your eyes drifted down to the way his palm held it. It looked so natural there, a perfect fit, and the glow of inspiration in his eyes sent a flutter through your body. You hadn’t realized that he had brought it— hadn’t seen when Cassian went through security with his bag.

Az lifted the camera in a silent invitation and Mor let out an excited squeal, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in close. You smiled and your focus fell on Azriel. He held his camera with a careful, precise grip, ensuring you were perfectly in frame. With every movement he made, either a height adjustment or a turn of the camera, he sent a quick glance to his surroundings, quietly making sure that he refrained from accidentally bumping the people around him.

It was sweet how he managed to remain respectful in such a large crowd, how he cared enough to be aware of such things. The thought burrowed itself deeper into the area of your mind that had gained a heavy label this past week: Longings for Azriel, as you called it. An embarrassingly fitting title.

He took the picture with a satisfied smile and lowered his camera, the sunlight casting a warm, almost golden glow over his features. For a moment, your mouth felt dry at the sight of him. The harsh sun you’d been cursing for hours now seemed to soften, bathing his eyes in a molten blend of brown, gold, and green. Azriel had been in his element all of today. You saw it clearly— the ease in which he spoke with all of you, the way his eyes gleamed and the smile on his lips persisted. Every set you’d watched had been enjoyed through two ways: dancing with Mor, Feyre and Cassian, or admiring Az as he listened. Your grip tightened around the can you still held.

Mor leaned in to view the image on the camera’s screen and your surroundings poured into your consciousness once more, the loud sound of the crowd rising in level. You closed the gap Az had created when he stepped back and, in a moment of self-indulgence, brushed lightly against him to view the picture.

“This is so cute. I love it,” Mor fawned. She placed a hand on Az’s forearm and gave him a sweet smile. “This is such a great photo, Az.”

Azriel angled the screen towards you. You didn’t doubt her words, but Mor was indeed right. It was a great photo. You could see it all perfectly: the bustling crowd, the stage, the speakers in the background, and you and Mor glowing with happiness. It stirred something emotional within you, a perfect memory you could imagine showing future children to prove that their parent was once cool.

You looked up at him. “This is perfect.”

He smiled, almost timidly. “Yeah?”

“I guess you're back on track?”

Recognition sparked in his eyes. “I think I just found my mu—”

Just then, the crowd moved like a restless sea and a body pushed into you. You stumbled slightly and Azriel's hand instinctively reached out to steady you, his touch warm and firm against the exposed skin between your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through you at the contact.

You turned to look at the person. He looked to be around your age, if not a few years older, with green eyes and a strange mullet that almost gave him bangs. Mor glared at him, but it was Azriel who spoke.

“Watch it,” he growled.

“My bad man,” Mullet slurred, eyes shifting between you and Azriel. “Didn’t see you.”

Azriel’s glare followed him until his figure melted back into the crowd, muttering under his breath, “Cut that mop you call hair and maybe you’d see better.”

You suppress a laugh at Azriel’s irritation, a huge amused grin spreading across your face. You’d forgotten how protective Az could be, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary. His readiness to jump to the defense of those he cared about was endearing at its core, so you swallowed the small urge to make fun of his response.

Instead, it was Mor who broke the tension, her voice laced with mockery. “Damn, Az.” She raised an eyebrow and a small smirk grew on her lips. “If looks could kill, you’d be a serial killer.”

Az rolled his eyes but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his true amusement despite his feigned annoyance.

You handed Mor the canned drink back and clapped your hands together. “Alright. I need my own drink, so I’ll be back.”

Az handed Cassian the camera and turned to you. “I’ll go with you.”

You shook your head. “No, its okay. You just got back.”

Az gestured to the drink Mor had swiped. “I could use another, too.” He looked around. “And I think you might need some help getting back.”

You scanned the crowd, noting how it thickened with every passing second. Having Azriel to help navigate through would be a relief. And the prospect of some alone time with him was just as appealing.

“Okay,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The line for drinks was manageable, with only about seven people ahead of you. The festival buzzed around you, the air thick with the scent of food and the distant hum of music from other stages.

Azriel stood next to you, head slowly scanning his surroundings, silver dagger earring glistening in the sun. Your eyes lingered on the slight curve of his lips, at the way a sense of ease hung from his resting features.

“You know, I knew you’d enjoy this,” you found yourself saying, voice carrying over the ambient noise. “The live music and all. But part of me is surprised.”

He looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “Why’s that?”

”I thought you weren’t a large gathering type of person.”

You held many memories of Azriel from over the years. The memories from the past two years were few and far between, but the ones from freshman year—- those you held in abundance. Azriel’s quietness was something you noticed before you knew him. He was content to watch, content to observe. It was why photography seemed so fitting for him, a hobby for someone who liked to collect moments, to enjoy them from a watcher's vantage point rather than that of a main actor.

Azriel chuckled softly. Despite the festival’s noise, you heard it in perfect clarity.

“I’m not. But that’s for gatherings where I’m expected to constantly engage. This is different. Everyone here is doing their own thing, no one is paying attention to me. I can just disappear into the crowd.”

You let the words settle and studied him more intently. It occurred to you how unrealistic his words felt to you, how silly it was to think that people’s eyes didn’t naturally gravitate towards him. And you thought that it was a bit silly too, then, that your eyes did.

You and Azriel were friends, maybe even in the lightest of terms. Friends that could’ve been more, could’ve had a deeper connection, platonically, had it not been for choices you made. And yet, your eyes always found him. All of this morning, all of this past week. Your gaze found him time and time again, like a magnet calling to you.

You shook your head and a small laugh left your lips. An amused, timid sound. Azriel nudged your shoulder.

”What? He asked, but you only shook your head again, letting the smile linger on your lips. “What is it?” Azriel asked again.

You met his gaze then, that surveying, intense gaze, and shrugged. “It’s just, you could never disappear into a crowd, Az.”

His brows furrowed and you held his gaze, watching as a flicker of confusion crossed his face—- or perhaps it was curiosity, instead. You felt a flutter of something deep and tender inside of you. You swallowed.

“At least not for me.”

The line moved forward and you sent a silent thank you to the sky, stepping ahead. Azriel lingered behind for a moment, eyes still trained on you. His brows were still slightly furrowed, but a smile tugged at his lips—-something tender, like your words touched him in a way he hadn’t expected.

You ordered your drink, offering a grateful smile to the girl behind the table, and stood to the side as Azriel stepped up to order. The girl’s demeanor changed almost immediately—- cheeks flushed slightly, a new timid smile playing on her lips as she drank in the sight of him. You resisted the urge to laugh at it, a desire born out of total understanding rather than mockery.

Azriel was a stunning kind of attractive, a cold type of handsome that made you shiver if you stared too long. And the girl, she was pretty too, you thought, in an angelic sort of way. Blonde hair like Mor, blue eyes like Feyre. It dawned on you that you might look at Azriel the same way, with the same childish awe and longing admiration. The thought made you blush in embarrassment and you took a sip of your drink.

Azriel seemed oblivious to the effect he was having, focused solely on the screen before him and paying for his drink. She turned around to face him, drink in hand, and leaned forward to offer it.

And then her eyes fell to his hands. She let out a small breath, a sound that seemed to surprise even her, and her eyes widened in response. Az’s drink was placed on the counter much harsher than she likely intended.

As strange as it sounded, sometimes you forgot about Azriel's hands— forgot that they weren't what were considered normal to the causal observer. You didn't know if this was a good thing, if it was something Azriel preferred or had no opinion on.

Like most people, you'd noticed them when you first met him. Azriel was a quiet observer, a motionless one at times. But in class, when you caught yourself staring at him more often than you'd ever admit, you'd catch sight of the way he'd anxiously crack his fingers with the pad of his thumb. It would bring your attention right back to his hands, to the ridges on his skin.

The scars that marred his hands were extreme, yes, and a certain sadness flowed through you when you looked at them long enough— when you thought about what pain he must've endured— but they were also beautiful. Something so entirely unique; unique enough to where you knew it was him whenever he touched you.

But as hauntingly beautiful as his hands were, eventually they simply became a part of him, something as mundane and expected as his right earlobe or the freckle on his cheek— the one that disappeared into his dimple when he smiled hard enough.

The girl tried her best to catch herself, quickly pushing forward Azriel's canned drink on the surface and giving him a timid, almost apologetic smile. But it was too late. You saw the switch clear as day, watched as something dark ran through Azriel's face— something parallel to childhood fear, to deep-seated embarrassment, to heated resentment, all in one. He pressed a button when prompted for a tip, his gaze steady on his finger as it moved across the screen.

You cleared your throat, leaning forward to grab his drink in your free hand and motioning him away from the growing line. Az seemed to snap out of the daze he'd fallen into, meeting your hurried motions with a furrowed brow. You nodded towards the crowd.

"C'mon," you said, offering the can to him. "We gotta head back."

The whine in your voice did its intended job, concealing your actions as ones driven out of an impatience to return rather than a desire to protect him. It wasn't that you thought it would bother him if he realized what you were trying to do, no, but you didn't want him to read it as something rooted in pity. You didn't want him to fall further back into his head than he already had.

When he didn't reply, you pushed his drink further towards him with an impatient hum. He raised a singular eyebrow for a fleeting second, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he took the cold drink from you, fingers brushing against yours. Nothing flashed in his face at the contact— there was no twitch, no flicker of something darker in his features.

"They're not going on for another forty five minutes," he finally said.

You sighed, a dramatic and weariful sigh, and the curve of his lips blossomed into a smile.

"Az,” you began, “Some of the best moments are going to be found in that crowd while waiting."

For the second time, you beckoned towards the crowd. You ignored the flutter in your chest as you leaned forward to grab his hand, tugging him along behind you— ignored the tightening in your chest as Azriel held onto you tighter.

You made your way back through the dense crowd, struggling to move until you finally reached your friends. Feyre and Rhys were the first to spot you, offering a cheer of greeting as you and Az squeezed into the spaces they’d saved for you. Mor’s eyes traveled to Azriel, scanning his face quickly.

“Whats wro-“

You widened your eyes in warning, giving a small, subtle shake of your head that only she could pick up on. Mor mouthed a clarifying question and in response you brought your hand to the one that wrapped around the cold can of your drink, gently brushing your palm against the knuckles.

Her eyes widened in understanding and a small frown found her lips. She wiped it off within seconds, any trace of it perfectly concealed as she grabbed Azriel's attention with a large smile.

"Aren't you so excited? I'm so excited."

Azriel nodded, but his expression remained a bit guarded. Your stomach twisted and Mor shot you a worried glance. You looked at Az, nudging his arm with your shoulder, and his gaze dropped to you.

”Cheers?” You said, lifting your drink in invitation. “For good luck.”

Azriel’s face softened and the remaining edge washed away. His eyes glimmered as he lifted his drink.

“Cheers,” he replied, clinking his can against yours.

Thirty five minutes later, the crowd came to life as the band walked on stage.

They played for a total of forty-eight minutes.

Your eyes were on Az for around twenty-seven of them.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: they notice each other 🥺🥺 they pay attention to each other 🥹🥹 god this makes me miss having a crush— noticing every small thing, those BUTTERFLIES!!! i love them your honor

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

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@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend

thank you for reading 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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