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hugsandchaos · 1 day

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Where Do Stars Come From?

Summary: While getting to know their new member better, Wind decides to ask Danny what he thinks stars are. To his surprise, Danny’s surprisingly prepared. (Fair warning, a good portion of it is dialogue. Then again, this is a chapter where they start talking and getting to know the newest member a little.)

Word Count: 3,493

“Alright, everyone take a break.” Time said. At those words, everyone, including the speaker, sat down around the camp they’d just set up. They’d spent the whole day walking with much fewer breaks than usual, but it was for good reason. Well, reasons. They’d been looking for the portal first, which itself had two reasons. First was to find the black lizalfos, or whatever monster it had taken the form of this time.

The other reason was in hopes that it would leads straight to Danny’s world and he’d finally be back after three days, but it turned out to be Wild’s world. Not the best outcome, but at least they didn’t appear in the middle of a monster camp. Then, since it was already getting close to dusk, they had to look for an ideal camping site with enough time to actually set it up. It was a bit of a rush, but they managed. No one wanted to admit it, especially Sky, but they all sat down a bit more tired than the night before.

On that note, Twilight was a little surprised that Danny had seemed alright walking that much. He and Hyrule let him know that he can speak up if he needed a break, but throughout the day, he just remained pretty quiet and enjoyed the scenery or stared blankly as if so deep in thought that he wasn’t even there anymore. The second one was more worrying, but expected. The ranch hand was also surprised that Danny had seemed a little disappointed at the thought that “Wolfie” wouldn’t come with them before they went through the portal.

The rest of the group had taken a while to trust his wolf form, but Danny was comfortable enough to come close to putting his hand in his mouth! He did it almost subconsciously, focused on getting the piece of metal that had been bothering him since a bokoblin encounter when he went for the arm, but accidentally bit the blade in its hand instead. It bent and squeaked in his jaws, but by some miracle, he hadn’t cut his mouth.

It was honestly a relief when Danny pulled it out.

That didn’t make standing with his mouth open like that any less awkward, though. He could hear Four making fun of him already.

Still, it was odd, worrying, and a bit of a good thing all at once that if anything, Danny seemed a bit more comfortable with him when he’s a wolf rather than a hylian. Maybe a part of the in the back of his mind still only recognized him as a husky, or maybe he was just more okay with animals than people for whatever reason. Tonight, Twilight was going to test that theory. Or at least try.

At dusk, right after he’d eaten, he went off to check out the sunset and came back a while later as Wolfie. Most of the members were now in their bedrolls, and Danny was laying a bit outside the edge of the imaginary circle they all agreed on before he came along. An act of hesitation. On the bright side, he was closer than when he first made his spot. Not to mention that they all did it at first. Calling it out would be hypocritical.

He was talking with Hyrule and Wind, albeit with some distance between them, but it was probably because Hyrule was already comfortable in their bedrolls. Danny didn’t seem uncomfortable and was smiling, which was a good sign in Twilight’s eyes.

He noticed Twilight coming closer and gave him a small wave as he stopped next to Wind.“Hey, Wolfie.” Danny greeted. He brightened up a little when he saw him and extended a hand towards him. Twilight paused for a brief moment, surprised by that unfamiliar energy again, then came closer to sniff his hand.

Every time he got close to the kid in wolf form, he got an… odd feeling. It reminded a small part of him of poes. That unnatural lingering energy, spreading a dreadful gut feeling of something horrific nearby, something that doesn’t obey the laws that were rooted in life itself. And it was out to get him. He didn’t know what would happen if they ever did, and the awful gut feeling told him that he never wanted to know.

At the same time, it was the opposite. Instead of whatever dark, dreadful energy that either followed the ghostly enemies everywhere or was part of it, Danny felt… safe. That was the best word for it. No dreading what would happen if the human got his hands on him, but rather an inviting warmth that put his mind at ease. Urging him closer into some protecting embrace. Twilight didn’t like to think of his wolf form being a separate being, but if he did, he’d say that “the wolf” trusted Danny with every part of its being.

He had no idea why. It didn’t feel like divine magic. He knew what that was like, being around Hyrule and the light spirits in his world. It wasn’t dark magic, either. He knew that well, too. So what was it?

Danny moved his hand to pet his neck, running his hand up and down through his fur.”Did you have a good day?” He asked, speaking as if he was a person. Twilight moved his head up and down in a nod. So far, so good.”Good to hear.” Danny said. He gave him a few friendly pats on the head and turned back to Hyrule and Wind.

Hyrule had his arms crossed and with one of his hands pointing at Danny, a small smile plastered across his face.”Hey, Wolfie. We were just talking about stuff. Wanna join?” Wind asked.

“He thinks that peanut butter and strawberry cream doesn’t sound delicious.” Hyrule interrupted.

“I don’t.” Danny said. Twilight glanced between them, then moved to stand facing Hyrule and nodded to show his stance on the matter.”I guess he agrees with me.” Danny said.

Hyrule squinted at Twilight.”Traitor.” He said. Twilight huffed and walked to be at equal distance between them, then laid down. There’s been a change of plans.”So if you don’t like that, what kind of sandwiches do you like?” Hyrule asked.

Danny shrugged and leaned against a nearby tree.”I like mayo, chicken, and lettuce. That’s a nice combination.” He said.

“Mayo? I’ve never heard of that.” Hyrule said.

“Me neither.” Wind added.”Oh, do you like spicy food? A lot of the spicy foods Wild gives us is pretty good, but the rest of these guys can’t handle it.” He asked.

Hyrule looked at him both offended and a little horrified.”That food was like eating fire!” He said. Wind laughed at him, and Danny almost did too. Almost.

He seemed to think about it for a moment.”Well, I guess on a scale of one to ten, the best I’ve been able to tolerate is… I’d say maybe a seven or a six. Anywhere between one and five is good with me, though.” He replied. Twilight heard a few sounds from the sheika slate. Wild was taking notes, no doubt.

It seemed like a habit of his to make notes of their preferences. Not that he was complaining, though, he thought it was a good thing. It was nice of Wild to be considerate of their different tastes.

“I’d say my highest spice tolerance level is an eight.” Wind said.

“Definitely a two.” Hyrule admitted.

Twilight gave them a shake of his head when their eyes fell on him. He didn’t like spice at all. He opened his mouth and let out a yawn, then looked up at the sky. The stars were shining. People would start getting sleepy soon, if they already weren’t.

“Alright, who’s taking the first shift?” Time asked. A moment of silence followed.

“I’ll do it.” Wild said.

“I’ll take the second.” Four offered.

“I guess I get third, then.” Legend added.

With that decision made, Danny glanced between the three of them.”Shift?” He questioned.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. We need to keep watch for monsters, so one person stays awake. We take turns throughout the night.” Wind explained. For some reason, that made Danny perk up a bit.

“Oh, I can help if you guys want.” He offered. Twilight couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice seeing people offering their help, no matter how normal it was for him growing up in Ordon Village.

“Maybe once you learn to use a sword. The point is to let others rest, and if you can’t protect yourself or us, you’ll have to wake one of us up.” Warriors spoke up from across the camp. Wind, Hyrule, and Twilight all briefly turned to look at him getting under his blanket, then back at Danny.

“We appreciate the offer, though.” Hyrule added.

Danny looked a little disappointed hearing that.”Still doesn’t seem fair to me that you guys are taking shifts and not me.” He said.

Wind shrugged and got underneath his blanket as well.“All the more reason for you to rest and let yourself heal so we can hopefully start your training tomorrow.” He said.”It might be fun being the one teaching.” He added.

Danny suddenly sat up straight.”Oh, thanks for reminding me. I should probably go in a few minutes to check on it. Doesn’t hurt so much now.” He said.

Twilight noticed something change in Hyrule’s expression when Wind brought up Danny’s injury. It was there one second, then gone the next. Everyone in the group, except maybe their newest member, knew that Hyrule cared deeply about the well-being of the group, just like anyone, and he’s overworked himself a few times to help someone’s injuries heal faster. Especially in dire circumstances. Like that incident a while back. At least he didn’t pass out.

Knowing he couldn’t do much to help their human member probably hurt. Especially when they first met, when Danny pulled away from the healer’s hand and said he’d do it himself. He didn’t trust them at the time, but he was coming around now.

Suddenly, Hyrule perked up a little. It wasn’t exactly a happy perk, but he still raised his head up right after setting it down on his pillow.”Oh, I almost forgot! Where’s your blanket?” He asked. That was actually a good question. The last two nights, he hadn’t seen Danny sleep with a blanket. Only the jacket. He remembered offering his to Danny the first and second night, but he’d refused saying that the weather was pretty warm so he didn’t need or wasn’t one. Maybe it was in his bag?

“Oh, I don’t have one on me.” Danny replied, still smiling for some reason. Twilight didn’t see how someone would smile about that. He could hear Sky making another small wood carving nearby suddenly stop.”Honestly, though, I don’t think that’s much of a bad thing. It’s pretty warm here.” He said.

Twilight felt like an idiot for not noticing sooner. Then again, Danny was almost a little protective of his bag and didn’t want people touching it, so he couldn’t have looked inside.

“…You don’t have one in your bag?” Four asked.

Danny looked around as if just now noticing them. His face shifted in discomfort and his shoulders tensed up a little.”Um, no? Why are you guys looking at me like that?” He asked, clearly unhappy with being the center of attention.

Twilight looked towards the purple bag next to Danny. It had looked big enough to fit one, so what was inside it? It couldn’t all be that second red bag and books, right? As the ranch hand stared at it for a moment, he found himself asking the same question, but for a different reason. Something was in the bag. Something else. Whatever was said next, it was forgotten before it was even processed as he slowly stood up, eyes fixated on the purple bag.

It was faint, but it felt similar to sending some unnatural presence, but this time, it was worried. Worried about something. Worried about what, though?

“Alright, that’s a no.”

Twilight hadn’t realized he’d come closer to the bag until he felt a hand grab his scruff. He shot his head up as he was lightly pulled back. He gave no resistance from the sheer surprise that someone had just grabbed his scruff. He turned to see who it was, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to see it was Danny.“Sorry, but I have some stuff in there I really don’t want you getting into. I mean, a wolf drinking one of my energy drinks? Imagine the chaos. If it wouldn’t make you sick, that is.” He said.

He let go of Twilight and looked towards the others.”Anyways, is this conversation really necessary right now? It’s warmer than the last few nights, I don’t think I’ll even need the jacket.” He said. Twilight turned to see what had happened while he suddenly started getting suspicious of the bag. Maybe it was nothing. Still…

“It may be warm tonight, but tomorrow we might be freezing. Wild, see if we can stop by a market tomorrow.” Time said. He was using that tone when he was done talking, and Danny stopped and closed his mouth defeated. Defeated, and unhappy.

Silence stretched on for a moment before Wind decided to speak up again and change the subject.”So, Danny, I’ve got a question for you before we all go to bed. The night before you arrived, we were talking about what stars could actually be. What do you think they are?” He asked.

“It might sound funny, but my world doesn’t actually know too much about them because of resources. Maybe they’re giant fireflies.” Sky added from where he was.

“A star is a massive, self-luminous celestial body that shines by radiation diverged from its internal source.” Danny said, a smile quickly growing on his face again. He said it in a manner that gave the impression that he’d repeated that same phrase several times before.”Giant fireflies don’t seem that likely to me from a logical perspective, anyways.” He added.

Twilight was now curious. Was this a fact? How did the kid know for sure? Did he learn it in school? Twilight knew that school taught things like magic, history, and such to those who went, like Sky and Shad. He tilted his head at Danny in hopes that he’d understand the curious gesture.“You sound pretty confident. If you have any cool cosmic knowledge to back it up, please, do tell.” Legend said from somewhere behind Twilight, half encouragingly and half sarcastic. Twilight was just excited for them all to go to sleep already.

All of a sudden, Danny paused. He glanced over where Twilighg assumed Legend was and looked at him strangely. Did his comment rub him the wrong way?

No, it didn’t. He was making sure of what he heard. Twilight was sure because that smile quickly returned and Twilight swore his eyes briefly twinkled like the stars themselves in sheer excitement. A reflection of the embers floating from the fire? Anyways, Twilight had seen this look before. That was the look of “You just asked me about my favorite thing and now I’m really happy to talk about it”.

Twilight shifted to make himself more comfortable and lean in closer to show that he wanted to listen, too.“Well, I’m not an expert or anything, but it’s a bit of an explanation.” Danny started.“It all starts with a nebula, which is a sort of cloud full of gases, dust, and debris from other cosmic events, namely the aftermath of another star’s death. They typically swirl around undisturbed for a long time.”

“In the beginning stages of a star’s formation, many occurrences in space can cause a nebula to warp and change its structure. As a result, it will collapse on its own gravity, shrink, and spin faster until it leaves a hot and bright core called a protostar. After the young star is formed, it cannot be seen immediately due to debris surrounding it. Thousands of years later, the star will be able to gather enough heat to engulf anything around it.”

“Finally, when temperatures reach about 27 million degrees, the atoms at the core stick together to emit huge amounts of energy and we have ourselves a proper star!” Danny finished. He reached for his backpack and grabbed one of the straps to pick it up. He stood and lifted the bag off the ground.“I’ll be right back, going to see if I should take the stitches out. Oh! Also, shooting stars are actually just pieces of rock and dust that are moving at such a high speed that they heat up to the point where they start glowing like that. They’re not actual stars.” He said.

He was already turning around and walking off into the dark when Warriors spoke.”By yourself in the dark?” He asked. He sounded almost a little condescending when he questioned Danny’s actions, but he was just worried about it like the rest of them. Danny really shouldn’t do that, especially without a weapon. Danny kept walking. Twilight stood up, but resisted chasing after him.

“Stay close to the camp.” Time said. Both Twilight and Warriors turned to look at him. He was already in his bedroll, probably hoping it all to be quiet soon. They both heard Danny stop and make a small noise of frustration, but he set his bag down somewhere nearby. Twilight knew better than to look back. If the kid wanted privacy, he could’ve just asked, but no complaining about it now. Twilight decided now would be a good time to go shift back.

He stood up and began walking away, in the opposite direction of where Danny went. Thirty minutes later, he made his return, yawning and almost walking into a tree.

Danny was now back by the boulder, using his bag as a pillow again. He wasn’t wearing his jacket this time, probably meant it when he said that it was warm. He was stargazing again, so he hadn’t noticed the hero yet. Twilight looked around the camp. Everyone was finally ready for sleep, except Wild. He quietly went over to where his bedroll was and made himself comfortable. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed and he was out like a light.

~~~~~(Time Skip)~~~~~

Twilight was woken up by Wild shaking him. It wasn’t a frantic shaking, luckily. At first, the ranch hand groaned in irritation, then mentally took a deep breath and forced his eyes open to look up. The cook looked disturbed. That worried him.

“What’s going on, cub? What time is it?” Twilight asked as he sat up. A few bones popped in his back. He wasn’t getting old, was he?

“It’s morning. Legend just laid down for a quick nap.” Wild replied.

Twilight smiled a little hearing that.“Oh, are we making breakfast then?” He asked tiredly. His cub’s woken him up to try to see if he wanted to help him make breakfast before. If this was the case, then everything was alright. But why did he look upset about something?

Wild nodded.“Yeah, but before that, I want to show you something.” He said. He reached into the satchel in which he carried the sheika slate and pulled it out. The light illuminated his face as he turned it on.”I got a picture of everyone while Danny was talking about the stars, but…” Wild seemed to struggle to find the words. He rubbed his thumb against his other fingers, something he often did when he searched mentally for the right phrase, but quickly stopped.”Just--just look.” He said.

Twilight did as he was asked and moved next to his cub to look at the picture. It was… weird. The image was distorted and messed up in a way Twilight had never seen before, and judging by how he’d acted, Wild hadn’t either. It was like there were thousands — no, millions — of little colorful dots. They were all over the place, and yet at the same time, they were confined in two rows on the screen. One at the top and one at the bottom. They also covered part of one of the members in the picture.

Two eyes, one glowing green and the other a familiar blue, looked right at the camera. It looked as if they were looking through it and at the two heroes. A few streaks of bright glowing white stood out in the otherwise black hair. It was unmistakable, yet so unfamiliar compared to the boy they’d been with for almost the past three days. Wild and Twilight glanced at each other, then at the sleeping figure now wearing his jacket.

For a moment, he wasn’t moving. Then he was, his body expanding and deflating a little as he breathed in and out. Then he wasn’t.

(I hope the wait isn’t too bad for y’all, because I got back to this after doing all the human things and remembered I have two oneshots to write after this chapter, and my brain just froze for a second. Fair warning; I’m going to focus on those oneshots (and probably a reopened hyperfixtation) before the next chapter, so it might be a bit more of a wait. Also, writing the bonding part is actually tougher than I thought. That might sound weird, but it is what it is. I hope it doesn’t look rushed or all over the place because of it. I’m posting it here first before Ao3, so please tell me what you think because if it’s bad, I’d like to know so I can fix it. Alright, time to fall face first onto the floor.)

#danny phantom #danny fenton #linked universe #linked universe time #linked universe legend #linked universe twilight #linked universe warriors #linked universe wild #linked universe wind #linked universe hyrule #linked universe sky #linked universe four #linked universe x Danny phantom #Danny phantom x linked universe

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lilacxquartz · 3 days

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Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 7

Satoru Gojo × Fem! Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark/yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

About:

You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

Chapter Summary:

Satoru teaches you to tolerate a place you dislike.

Trigger Warning:

Unaware reader while Satoru does something he really shouldn’t.

Previous Chapter.

7. Starry Skies

There was just a little extra something humiliating about being back in your old bedroom at your old house again; these four walls that were once both your comfort but also your prison had been left perfectly untouched with the help of your mother preserving it just as you had left it—a space locked in time, a haunting reminder of who you once were.

You grew uncomfortable at such a prospect as it was likely going to continue down that road for many more years to come, with or without your friends to help you through each and every single visit.

This room in particular once housed the person you didn’t want to be, after all, providing you a temporary shell for you to hermit inside of whenever you made your bed in it; you weren’t her anymore, but also you were her at some point.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried succumbing to sleep to quickly pass this whole thing by, but you were used to much later bedtimes by now and we’re left staring off into the dark as slumber failed to take you under. The clock barely hit 9 in the night and you were left lying wide awake feeling restless and frustrated.

It was then that you reached for your phone, knowing that pretty much everyone else would be up at least. The texts did take their sweet time to deliver though; the spotty reception driving you just a little over the edge, making you more irritable than you had to be.

It was something about this place, that was the reason why, you were sure of it.

Shoko was the first priority in your texting queue, updating her with just about everything that had happened so far as she continued to approve of how Satoru was behaving, assuring you that he knows his stuff when it comes to unfair parents and that you have nothing to worry about.

It was a lighthearted moment of checking in, her texts half mocking you ‘goodnight’ as she had to continue to study while reminding you of the plum wine.

Suguru was next in queue, just to see if he was still going through whatever it was that made him feel so distant but he never replied. He always had his phone on him so you felt a little more hurt than usual knowing that he likely read your message but never bothered to reply.

Satoru was the next in line either way as you were a little concerned as to how he was holding up in the guest house but just as you typed something out to him, he got to you first.

“Your parents turned their lights off, let’s sneak out~?”

You stared at the screen as you laughed quietly at the idea, quickly feeling your worries evaporate—he was fine, of course he was fine. Staring at the text a little more, you also considered the idea. Your parents usually fell asleep quickly and you weren’t tired at all, so it would be nice to get away from this place for a while.

“Is it really sneaking out if it’s my own home and If I’m an adult?” You asked, sending a text back. You were twenty-two now, bordering twenty-three; a young adult at this point, but one either way.

“It is if it gets you into trouble.” He replied.

You gently scoffed as you realised the depressing reality of how it actually was. You likely would get into trouble because you still had to walk on eggshells around your own family even now, which made it all seem even bleaker.

Wanting to go against the system, you accepted his offer, wanting for things to go down a different route for a change if you could help it and as such, you told him that you’d be down in five and to meet you at the front of the house.

You then quietly left through the front door and met with Satoru in the driveway who quietly greeted you with a smile, suppressing his voice for now so as to not get you in trouble, a notion that he personally thought was a little amusing.

Together, the two of you walked side by side as your shoulders unintentionally slouched, feeling some strange discomfort from existing within town once again.

It was the shell of your former self manifesting who you once were, showing Satoru a side of you that he was aware of but one that you’d rather he didn’t know.

A side of you that felt just a little watched, a little judged in everything that you did.

He responded to your sunken body language with a pat on your back with some slight force in his hand, hoping to both straighten your posture as well as to snap you out of whatever it was you were going through.

“You know, I miss that girl that I got to know in the city,” he said as he looked up into the night sky, his eyes taking in the many stars blanketing over town, “you’re not really yourself out here, are you?”

You gulped as you listened to him talk, finding that his words were oddly profound for who he was and couldn’t form a proper response, at least not right away. Other parts of the question felt a little like a pick up line but you did your best to not overthink it, knowing that his personality was flirty by default and that it wasn’t personal even if he did mean it that way.

The walk led you to a nearby park where the lights were still shining bright under the lampposts scattered throughout, the two of you settling on a bench near the entrance. Some low grade cursed spirits loitered in the shadows further into the park, but neither of you cared enough to exorcise those.

The night sky was exceptionally beautiful tonight, completely devoid of clouds as a crescent moon smiled over the world; clusters of stars freckling around the dark canvas.

“I miss views like this back in the city. Even further out where it’s quiet, it’s never really exactly like this.” Satoru said after a while.

“Yeah, it’s the only thing I ended up really missing when I moved to Tokyo.” You replied in agreement.

Something about this whole thing felt strangely intimate, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It wasn’t generating as much tension as it had done so when you were alone with Suguru, but something was brewing that you couldn’t quite understand.

Regardless, you didn’t want it to go another wrong direction though so you kept your hands and body language to yourself.

Keeping your friends as friends was more important, you thought.

“So, there’s really nothing else out here?” Satoru asked.

“Well, that depends on how you look at it,” you considered, trying your best to not be completely negative, “there’s the night views, the nature and the clean air which is good for some people.”

“But not for you.” He speculated.

“I guess not.”

“There’s no shame in this place just being somewhere you had to live in, you know. You shouldn’t let it define you.” He said after a while, trying to help you feel better about being here while also trying to ease you into becoming more vulnerable so he could potentially chance a move on you.

“I mean… it’s easier said than done,” you replied as you let his words fester in your mind, talking a touch more spontaneously as your emotions stirred, “maybe you don’t get it because you were told that you were special your entire life-“

Wait. Oops.

You froze as you realised exactly what you had just said and just how terribly it was worded.

Satoru noticed this and didn’t even flinch nor did his demeanour change a single bit. He didn’t mind such sudden bluntness from you, in fact, he found it refreshing that you were capable of speaking your mind under the right conditions.

“It’s alright—you’re alright,” he laughed a little as he found himself momentarily stunned, “you’re right about that much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that.” You continued to blabber despite his attempts to talk you down from your spiraling unease.

“I just wanted to say that you’re not that ordinary either, even if you were told it,” he continued to explain without dwelling on what you hit him with, “you have something that a lot of people can’t even comprehend having.”

Sighing, you finally forced yourself to face the conversation.

“I know, but, I just feel like if I didn’t have anything going on then maybe I would actually have a chance to be normal.”

“But where’s the fun in that, [name]?” Satoru replied, scoffing just a little as though jokingly offended. “You could have had a boring normal life in a small town, yeah, but that’s all you would have done in your life.”

“And is that so bad…?”

“When you’re comparing it to what you have, I’d say so?” He asked as countered your question with one of his own, he didn’t show it but he was a little frustrated at how little credit you gave yourself, “your past here was a blip at best and all I’m getting at here is that you shouldn’t let it define you.”

“It’s just easier said than done.” You sighed, although you did agree with him. This topic was difficult to discuss, but it felt freeing to face a troubling truth.

Silence followed beyond that point, leaving you wondering if there was something wrong with you that drained the life from those around you given just how quiet people were.

In reality, or at least for Satoru’s case, it was that he felt comfortable enough to finally continue making a move on you despite the fact that he was starting to slowly become conflicted with doing so.

You were vulnerable as you had finally opened up to him in a way he was certain that you hadn’t to others before, but it didn’t feel right to do so completely.

Still, he chose to lean in for a kiss that managed to catch you so off guard that you immediately pulled away, wondering why this was happening a second time—hoping that you actually weren’t doing anything to lead anyone on without realising it.

Satoru pulled back too as he maintained his unserious expression, choosing to not present himself as offended even if the rejection did throw him off, even just a little. He quickly laughed it off either way, having a new idea in mind to ease you into giving in.

“My mistake, [name],” he smiled as he continued to stare into yours, “I thought we were supposed to be selling a lie up here.”

“I-I guess so but it feels too real-“

“—Just this once?” Satoru asked as he cut you off, not giving you room to think. “Maybe with some luck someone will see.”

That was exactly what worried you, that someone from town would see you kissing him despite it already being so late into night—at least for this place. You knew that just from looking at Satoru that this was his attempt at something, but you didn’t want it to go down that road at all.

“Just think of it this way, if we have to sell it around your parents later, it’ll be easier to do.” He said as he continued to warm you up to the idea.

Your own bruised persona that existed within this town tried to justify it for you internally, telling you that this would be your chance at appearing normal for a change as your body slowly ended up leaning into the kiss, after all.

It wasn’t so bad as your lips finally connected, but you didn’t really feel anything at all as it all unfolded.

Maybe he was actually just playing you to see how easily you played into his cards, but you couldn’t deny that you were curious—at least a little, just to see what it was like to lock lips with someone else.

Satoru then pulled back after a moment had passed too, sensing your discomfort, not wanting to push you over your limit, at least not yet.

He could tell that it was your first kiss, but that just helped him savour it all the better.

***

It was a quiet walk back to the house and just as you were about to re-enter the front door, Satoru pulled you off into the garden along with him as an attempt to convince you that you would probably feel less bad if you spent the night with him than entirely alone.

“Please?” He playfully begged you. “Don’t make me spend the night in there all alone.”

“It’s just for two nights though-“

“—Unless you want me to sneak up to your room~?”

Such an idea even if he was joking left you feeling a little mortified as the colour drained from your face. There was absolutely zero chance that he was going to see that side of you, so you reluctantly gave into the offer of a sleepover instead.

Even if he did steal a kiss from you, there was something about his entire being that made him seem somehow more trustworthy than Suguru to you.

Maybe it was the fact that he was open about it?

“Trust me, [name],” he continued to say as he tugged your wrist off to the guest house, “if we’re supposed to be together anyway, it wouldn’t even be that weird to be seen with me in the morning.”

“But my parents-“

“—They were young too at some point, trust me, they’ll get it.”

You understood that part fully well but you still felt a bit off about the whole thing. Sneaking out was one thing, being seen leaving the guest house with him was another due to the implications alone. You wanted to sell the lie too, but it was starting to feel all too real again and you didn’t want for him to get the wrong idea about just how much you were allowing him to get away with.

“Just to sleep, nothing more-“

“—Just to keep up appearances,” he assured you while smiling, “it smells in here, don’t make me suffer through that alone.”

You stared at him for a little longer, sighing as you continued to give into the idea; his smile growing wider as he watched you accept such a proposal.

“I won’t do anything,” he added along, “we’ll just sleep, yeah?”

You nodded as your mind quietly crumbled internally at the prospect of sharing a bed with a guy, so when you both got into bed together you made a conscious effort to stay at the edge of the bed while he read into your body language, backing himself up against the wall.

The bed was surely small though and such crowdedness radiated a heat between the two of you despite not touching each other at all.

The summer heat continued to fester and as a result, he slowly dressed down albeit to a respectable degree and you soon gave into surrendering your top for the camisole beneath, still keeping your bottoms on, just to make sleep even a little bearable.

Falling asleep within his shadow felt strange initially but the exhaustion quickly swept over you. He wasn’t being weird to you as you had initially feared and as such, you were successfully lulled into a false sense of security around him.

So by the time you were fast asleep, you didn’t even notice as he slowly crept ever so slightly closer to you, intending to brush it off as nighttime habits if you were to wake up from his advancement.

…But you never did.

He then attempted to close the distance between you even more as he pressed himself up ever so slightly against your back, feeling himself grow excited as he did so—a consequence of his own selfish thoughts.

Although, you did pull away subconsciously as the heat became overwhelming which prompted him to stop for a moment, thinking about how exactly to go through this, or if he should even do so at all.

The conflicting feeling came back again and he was beginning to feel strange in how he was treating you but at least for now, the arousal clouded his thoughts on the matter as he continued onwards.

Continuing, he pulled down his shorts even further while backing off a little. His semi-hard cock pitched slightly against his boxers as he did his best to keep it subtle enough, shuffling closer against your back without waking you up or bothering you.

Just to feel how you felt against himself, he wouldn’t go beyond that point.

You couldn’t feel him at all in your deep sleep regardless, your mind not even registering the fact that his tip pressed ever so slightly against the small of your back. He wanted to keep you close which is why he didn’t go further, making sure to act at least somewhat rationally so that he wouldn’t do anything he’d regret.

It surely did take him a good while until he broke away from you though, settling flat against his back instead as frustration enveloped him. He took care of himself at his own hand instead, the bed slightly shaking as he did so but never once breaking you away from slumber, finishing off into his shorts that he then threw off to the side.

Satoru sighed deep as he forced himself to behave around you, convincing himself that you’d ease into it another day—just not today, but maybe at another time.

It was because he liked you that he kept a boundary to begin with.

It was because he liked you that he didn’t want to hurt you.

(Unless you gave him a reason to.)

He surely wouldn’t.

…Would he?

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artingstarvist · 2 months

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Welp.

#this coffin rescue fic is up to 50k words it was not supposed to get this long lmao #and it's still got at least three chapters to go #who wants to spot me i may need a beta reader lol #at least for the first couple chapters maybe?#text

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pttucker · 7 months

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After Kim Dokja disappeared, Han Sooyoung was busy appeasing the party members. "Shit, am I some type of babysitter?" Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung were sitting blankly in their seats while Lee Hyunsung's huge body was crouched down in the middle of the children as he muttered something. Han Sooyoung sighed and pressed the party members "Hey! Everyone, wake up. This time, he went with Yoo Joonghyuk. Of course, it didn't work. "Dokja hyung… Dokja hyung again…" "I should've locked him up at that time…" Lee Jihye and Lee Seolhwa tried to soothe the children while Han Sooyoung was thinking about the problems she faced now. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk were taken away so she had to take care of the preparations for the rest of the week. "Now is the real Han Sooyoung's Corporation…"

Dokja, your party is literally going to put one of those weird little toddler backpack leashes on you so you can't just dart off to who knows where. And then they're gonna give the other end to a pissed off Joonghyuk.

Or worse...

Heewon

YOU ARE LUCKY SHE'S STILL WITH URIEL RIGHT NOW BUT YOU ARE GONNA HEAR ABOUT IT WHEN SHE GETS BACK!

Look at poor Lee Hyunsung! Look at the children! You are giving them PTSD with all of your disappearing off to your potential doom!

Poor Han Sooyoung. She doesn't get paid enough for this.

Forget the stuff in his pockets, I vote that next time Dokja pulls a Dokja, Sooyoung gets to keep his coat.

#technically her coat anyway #maaaan and here I thought that Dokja had MAYBE learned his lesson just MAYBE #Dokja please at the very least tell SOMEONE what you're going to do #you literally just got back from THREE YEARS AWAY and some of your party is STILL angry with you and they're all SCARED #and you're doing the exact same thing!!!#lmfao though at hsy just ranting at the unidentified wall #and is eventually 'kim dokja is back but now he's gone again' 😂#orv novel chapter 321 #orv #orv spoilers #orv liveblog #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kdj #hsy #kdj crew

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oh-meow-swirls · 19 days

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how does the raft not capsize.

#puppy rambles #yo-kai watch #yw3 #i mean komasan's not there in canon 3 so it's slightly better but not by a lot #i feel like someone should at least be falling off how is the raft also big enough to hold them all-#whisper floats so he doesn't add weight or any space really but like #it still needs to both hold the weight of three teenagers and two yo-kai #AND have the room for them all to fit #the rafting challenge in bada-bing tower is probably worse cuz it has to fit two additional yo-kai #i think komasan not being that important in the mainline games is very lame. he's pretty important in the anime so it's kinda weird #he is at least somewhat important in 3 since he's there for the yopple tour and everything in bada-bing tower #whereas in 1 he has the auto-befriend yo-kai curse (only being important in their debut chapter)#and in 2 he literally only shows up during the jibakoma quest in psychic specters #(excluding being an npc during the beginning of the jibanyan's secret quest alongside a bunch of other yo-kai)#idk what's weirder the fact they made him so important in the anime despite that or the fact they never made him important in the games #i personally go with the nyanderful days continuity that he also moves in with katie cuz that makes sense to me #i've literally never written anything where nate's the one who gets the watch in 1 so idk what i'd do there-#(funny how i've never written anything that's in the same timeline as canon-)#i want to at least write something at somepoint where nate and katie both get watches cuz i like that idea #i mean i have a dumb au idea where nate and katie independently get watches at the start of 1 at around the same time #and take an extended period of time to realize #mostly just haven't actualized that cuz 1) i already have the rewrite and 2) i don't have enough ideas #basically just have the basic concept-#these tags got derailed quick. and also make me really wanna work on the rewrite more-#i have so many ideas but i'm just not motivated to write any of them #and also most of them are for 3 and i haven't finished rewriting 2 yet 😔#‚‚‚ anyways-

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sableeira · 1 year

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catching covid after my 3 year no-covid streak feels kinda bad ngl

#I thought it was some type of flu for the past few days but nope #tbf I’ve been sick three other times these past three years and one time was sus as hell but I’ll never know what that was all about…#yeah not catching covid felt like a Highscore streak. yeah I do think about everything in my life in terms of gamification u_u #when the new chapter released I was like: oh there is so much going on maybe I’ll manage to be more active again and then I was just out #it’s a bit better now at least but I’m also finally catching on that it has the worst timing #my family was meant to visit me next week but I’ll still be contagious so don’t think that’s gonna happen #also in 5 1/2 weeks I’ll need to finish a substantial part of my bachelor project…#things are happening but I had a horrible creative slump right before falling sick so that kinda sucks #at least my vis dev part of the project is mostly over now so maybe I’ll get back to some casual fanart again soon… I miss it :(#when I was younger everytime I got sick I just started grinding out fanart. dunno where that energy went because now I can’t even move #my pinky when I’m sick #sina’s rambling

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asummersday · 1 year

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blorbo from my shows who is allergic to following my fic outline

#i dont have anything else to add they just keep going off script #i got chapter 1 down but bc i have ✨anxiety✨i want to get through at least part of chapter 2 before editing and posting #also i still havent finished writing the outline so i need to wrap that up too #i havent written anything other than oneshots and two/three shots ashfkdfkd #im absolutely overstressing but listen #im staring at my plot and daring it to overcomplicate itself #try me bitch 🔪#summer post #original

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ohproserpine · 3 months

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v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape.

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver.

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating.

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

#next chapter will explain all of their background :DD #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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a-b-riddle · 14 days

Text

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #angst #angst with a happy ending #john soap mactavish

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joelsgreys · 1 month

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fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter One - I Hate You

Is me starting another series before my dissertation a really bad idea? Yes, yes it is (but i had the idea and I need to get it written down asap)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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"Get out of my apartment!"

In the doorway of a little two bedroom apartment in Woking was Y/N L/N. She had a bad on her back and at least three suitcases behind her. And in front of her was Lando Norris, her teammate, biggest rival and mortal enemy.

Lando stared at her, dumbfounded. "Your apartment?" He repeated, expression still shocked. "No, Zac said this one is for me."

"Then why did he give me a key for apartment 241?"

They held up the exact same set of keys on the exact same keyring. Lando let out a sigh through his nose as he pocketed his version of the key. "Somebody clearly has royally fucked up," he said and sat on the couch.

"I'm gonna call him," said Y/N as she put the key back into her pocket. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialled the number of her boss.

Zac Brown had been hers and Lando's boss for the last year and few months. He'd been dealing with hers and Lando's shit from day one, ever sine they revealing the McLaren car for that year. They'd almost gotten onto a fight on the stage in front of everybody.

Zac picked up the phone in just a few rings. "How're you liking the new place?" He asked in way of hello.

"It's great, Zac. Except it comes with an annoying little prick," Y/N spat.

There was a second where Zac didn't say anything. He saw this coming, had tried to mitigate it as best he could by telling Lando he'd be getting a roommate. Of course, he didn't say who that roommate would be: that would have just been asking for trouble.

But, then again, all of this was asking for trouble. Zac had been waiting for a call from at least one of them since he got into the office (he'd hoped it would have been Lando; over the past year he'd proven himself to be easier to deal with than Y/N, who didn't back down. No matter what).

"Get yourself unpacked, I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zac put the phone down. He didn't say goodbye to his drivers, unless it was on race days. With nowhere left to go, Y/N dragged her things into the apartment. "Where's the second bedroom?" She grumbled as she looked down at Lando.

Without looking away from the television, Lando pointed behind him. But that wasn't helpful, since there was the kitchen just behind them and then two doors. "Furthest one," he said and Y/N dragged her bags through the rest of the apartment, heading to the furthest away bedroom.

The bedroom was sizeable, with a double bed and wardrobe already inside. But, other than that, there wasn't a lot. Y/N unpacked nothing but bedding and clothes for the next day. There was no way she was staying here, not living with Lando Norris.

***

Carpooling made so much sense when going to the same place as somebody, unless you hated that person. Zac watched from his office as two cars pulled up outside of the McLaren Technology centre.

The drivers got out of the car almost in sync. They both wore sunglasses as they strode towards the doors, Y/N's glare not visible behind her sunglasses as she followed Lando inside.

Things were clearly tense between them as they walked through the office. The drivers said nothing to each other, but their expressions said enough.

Where Lando took an elevator up to Zac's office, Y/N took the stairs. She ran up them, the two of them arriving at the same time (one of them out of breath and the other smirking at her).

She took the lead as they strode into the office. "Zac," Y/N began, but the CEO held his hand.

He wasn't like other bosses, he was a cool boss. But he was still there boss and, when he held up his hand, the two knew to shut up. "Sit down," he said, leaning back in his own chair.

Y/N and Lando sat in the seats on the other side of the desk. Her leg bounced as she waited for Zac to speak and Lando had his hands shoved into his pockets. Neither of them could ever agree on anything, except the fact that they're not leaving the room until they're not living together.

Zac laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You're both brilliant drivers," he began, "but you're both liabilities. You've both cost us millions because you keep trying to kill each other on the track. And your behaviour towards each other off track is bringing bad press to all of us at McLaren," he finished.

"We don't want to lose either of you as drivers, so we've come up with the brilliant plan to force you to get along."

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at her boss. "And if we refuse?" She asked him, placing one leg on top of the other.

"Then, we'll have to let one of both of you go. But the choice is yours."

But the choice wasn't really theirs. No matter what, they couldn't lose their seats, so they were just going to have to stick it out, suffer through it. Fuck.

The tension between the two wasn't just random. It had been brewing since their karting days. Even then they ran each other off the tracks and fought between races. Of course, back then it wasn't as big a deal.

There were way too many videos of when they were kids and they'd pushed each other off the track, gotten out of their karts and gotten into a physical fight. If they weren't so clearly talented, it would have affected their careers.

For the first few months of their Formula One careers in McLaren, the team thought they had made a mistake. If they weren't consistently in the points, Zac would have gotten rid of the both of them. But, truth be told, they were too good to let go.

So, he dangled this threat in front of them. Learn to get along or one of you is sacked. He'd thought about this hard, realised that this was the perfect threat. Y/N and Lando were so competitive that the thought of one of them losing their seat while the other thrived would have torn them apart.

"Fine," said Y/N. She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sat on, fell backwards. She quickly picked it up and rushed out of the office.

Lando said a goodbye to Zac and walked out of the office, rushing after her. He ran into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and stood beside her. They didn't look at each other, stared straight at the doors as the elevator took them down. "Sup, new roommate," he said with a smirk.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open. "I hate you," Y/N said and walked out of the McLaren technology centre.

She drove her way back to the apartment in Woking in complete silence. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight that it left imprints on her skin, on her palms and her finger tip.

How she didn't get pulled over for speeding, she'd never know. But the speed limit was the least of her concern as she made her way back to what was her new home.

But it would never be her home, not while Lando was living there.

***

Reluctantly, she unpacked her things. Hung her clothes up in her wardrobe and placed her underwear in the drawers. Y/N placed pictures of her family, pictures of her old F2 car, of her pets, of her car from the previous year up around her room. She pulled her lamp from her back and placed it on the bedside table, along with her phone, its charger, and her toiletries.

Lando had arrived home just minutes after her, but she'd already locked herself in her room. The only way they'd be able to get through this was by avoiding each other.

When her things were unpacked, Y/N sat on the bed and grabbed a book. A biography, all about the life of Enzo Ferrari. The one thing her room was missing was her sim racing rig, something her father was meant to bring up that day, but Y/N had told him to wait until she had somewhere new to live (which, we all know didn't happen. She was stuck in this apartment with Lando, whether she liked it or not).

Pressing her ear to the door, Y/N listened as Lando walked around. She waited until he walked past her room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Only then did she walk out of her room to get herself something to eat and drink.

She could do this. All she had to do was avoid him.

Easy.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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lovifie · 1 month

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Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

Chapter Before - Chapter 2 - Next Chapter

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), alcohol, tipsy while having sex, mentions of cheating but it just three idiots not knowing what poly is ❤️

You didn't notice Ghost entering the room, Johnny keeping your face buried on the mattress.

Simon wanted to laugh at the scotsman, so stubborn that not even amnesia could make him forget his competitive tendencies.

“They are doing fine by themselves.” Was all the explanation he gave the two men still drinking tea in the kitchen when he came back.

By the time the two of you got back to the kitchen, Johnny had a stupid smug smile on his face. Looking at Ghost that was sitting down beside Gaz, and winking at him.

Cheeky fucker.

It made Ghost want to laugh, limiting himself to a silent chuckle. The man didn't even remember who he was, but was at the ready to jump at his neck for even thinking of getting in his way towards you.

You walked in behind Johnny, cheeks blushed and eyelids slightly dropped with exhaustion. And oh, how bad he wanted you to fall asleep on his arms like a baby.

It clicked on his head then, that he could now that you were back from the dead. He looked at you, smiling when you smiled at him sleepy; and pat his lap opening his arms to you.

Soap sits at the last available seat, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees you walk past him and sit down on Ghost's lap; who looks at him with a shit-eating grin. Not that he can see his mouth now that he put the mask back, but with the shine of his eyes is enough to know.

Simon looks down at you, just to see you curl over yourself; resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes with a sigh. He rests his hands on your lower back, interlocking his finger to keep you from slipping from his lap.

“Are you ready to go back home?” Simon asks, making you open your eyes to look at him.

Your slow blinking makes him remember the random fact that cats do it to express love and trust for their owner. Even if you are not a cat, nor is he your owner. Yet at least. But the feeling is there.

“Very.” You mumble, your arms moving to hug Ghost's torso.

You rest your head on his chest, your neck in an awkward position but you don't seem to mind, so neither does Ghost. You eventually close your eyes, breathing slowly steadying; sleep beating you to it.

Simon can feel Soap's eyes on him, making sure that he doesn't forget how much he hates him.

But Soap is just protecting himself. Because hating the man holding you is easier than admitting that he is having doubts about who is better. But how is he supposed to know who is better when he doesn't know the other man?

Except you do know the other man. And you know him well enough to fall asleep in his arms, hugging the soldier as if he was a teddy bear.

It's not fair.

Waking up from the grave, coming in and out of conscience and only seeing the angel looking down at him.

So precious, the most precious thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He somehow remembers the tunnel, remembers you. Covered in dust and blood, pulling him out of the rubble.

So strong, strong enough to pull his dead body. He could hear you grunt, call his name, telling him to stay awake, to talk to you.

And he wanted to do so, he wanted to wake up, jump on his feet, pick you up and take you out of the tunnel bridal style. But he tried to move his arm, and instantly passed out.

The next thing he remembers, is laying on the bed, head throbbing with the biggest headache he has ever felt. And his sweet angel leaning over him, smiling at him as she took a look at the wound. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Before passing out again.

He would wake up, see you, smile at you, and pass out.

Every time he woke up you would have fewer bruises and every time he woke up you would look more tired.

He could hear you cry down the hall, frustrated that you couldn't send an SOS.

He could feel it when you would curl your body next to his on the bed, wanting human contact even if it was from the living corpse on the bedroom.

Oh, how he wished he could comfort you. Hug you back, warm your body when the temperature dropped at night, dry your tears when you cried yourself to sleep and kiss your lips when you talked about how afraid you were.

There was a window in time when the only thing Johnny knew was you, and he was perfectly satisfied with never knowing anything else.

He slowly remembered everything else, slowly, year by year, up until a little after he joined the military. But not enough to remember when he originally met you.

He wondered how it could have been, you told him you were a medic. Did you meet him because he got hurt? Did you meet because you were dragged along with him on a mission? Did you always smile as warmly as you smile at him now or was there a time when you didn't trust him to do so?

He can't imagine you emitting something other than warmth.

Even when you were distressed, tired, in pain and scared, you were still able to build the wall to keep it to yourself; away from him.

How did he want to jump that wall, let you feel the feelings you were prohibiting yourself.

He sees the way you sleep on Simon's arms, looking perfectly comfortable, relaxed and safe.

He doesn't like the man holding you, but seeing you like him so much… only makes him hate him more.

Johnny knows that you must be exhausted, spending the last 4 months taking care of him 24 hours a day. Johnny had barely started to walk on his own a couple of weeks ago, and before that he needed your help to stand, walk, eat, everything pretty much.

Still, he wishes you would have fallen asleep in his arms instead.

It is already nighttime by the time Price tells them that the pilot has arrived. You have been awake for a couple of hours by now, all the things you need on your bag already.

You stayed away from Soap and Ghost since you woke up. Not intentionally or at least not with maliciousness but rather being pulled away by the other two men that had been mourning you for months.

The latest round of gossip filled in the gaps of your absence by the both of them as you made your way to the rendezvous point. But that only pushed Ghost and Soap against each other in the back.

And without the peace offering of your presence between them, a cold war was starting to boil; both of them expecting the other to attack.

It wouldn't be clever to do so, and even though it hurts his pride because of the strange squabble they had going on, Simon chose to be the bigger person.

“Johnny.” He called the other, who simply hummed back, not bothering to look at him. “It's nice that you are back.”

Simon's attempt was futile, and Johnny expressed his feelings really clearly when he slightly increased his walking speed, letting Simon know that just because you were walking in front of them it didn't mean that they were walking together.

That was everything that was said between them on the traject of getting back to base; which made the 8 hours long flight quite awkward for them.

Once the flight landed, a horde of the medical team surrounded you. The word that you were alive clearly travelled to base faster than the plane.

Price slightly pushed you towards the medics, who were screaming about celebrating that you were back. And even though you sent them a look that was a clear cry for help, they waved you goodbye with a smile on their faces.

Price decides to call it a day for everyone, not wanting to push the mess of a day into developing into something worse somehow. Still, he takes Johnny to show him his old room wanting to help him set in.

Gaz goes with the two of them, and Ghost goes to his office. Not wanting yet to go to his room for the day, and rather choosing to hide behind doors and inside the last book he has been reading.

He doesn't know what time it is when a knock on the door pulls him out of said book. “C'mon in.” Who he doesn't expect to peek their head in is you, smiling widely at him. “Hi, Si.”

“Hi, love.” He answers, bending the corner of the page to mark it before closing it. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you hide me?” You ask, your body still behind the door. “They think I went to the bathroom.”

Ghost chuckles nodding. “Come in, love.” He says with a smile as you enter the room. It's obvious you have showered, clothes changed into a short white summer dress with tiny green flowers. You walk into the room, locking the door and walking to him. “I think they want to kill me again with that much alcohol.”

“They managed to get you drunk?” He asks, patting his lap for you to sit in it. You walk around the desk, finally sitting over his legs.

“Not really.” You say, resting your arms on your shoulder. “They did get me tipsy though.”

“Why didn't you want to get drunk? You should celebrate.” He says, gloveless hand rubbing your thigh.

“Because there are things I need to do.” You say, voice slightly quieter.

“Can I be one of those things?”

There is a certain leak of shameless desperation in his voice, a need no kind of mask would be able to bury now. Still, it goes right over your head; or at least Simon hopes it's your own naivety and not your way of softly letting him down so as not to hurt his feelings.

“You want me to sign your forehead like a piece of paper?” You joke, obviously missing his point; but god would he like to wear your name like his most proudest medal.

“I wouldn't mind.” His hand twitches on your thigh, the possessive thought of wearing a mark of your ownership pushing his mind running.

“Well, of course, no one would see it with the mask.” You chuckle, cocking your head with a smile on your face.

“I would take it off.”

“Can I take it off?”

“Of course you can.”

It's natural for him. Wanting to be in whatever shape and form you want him to be. It also helps that it's not the first time you have seen his face, nor is it the hundredth. As the unit medic, only Price could be an actual opponent as who has seen him the most without the mask.

Your fingertips find the mask's hem, softly pulling it away from his skin before pulling up. He moves his head, closing his eyes to prevent a possible stab on the eye; and looks at you, barefaced.

He doesn't have the chance to say anything before you leap forward, his breath hiking up when he thinks you are about to kiss him. Only for you to move up, lips grazing his cheekbone as you sniff his face.

“I expected the black paint to smell worse.” You say nonchalantly, as if you didn't just send every sense on his body into overdrive.

Simon would be angry with himself if he wasn't so endeared with you. He is a grown man, stuttering because your face got close to his. It was always easier with Johnny, he could hide behind the Lieutenant rank and admire from a distance.

But you are a medic, he is not your lieutenant. You are above the law to him, and there is no hiding from your inquisitive eyes and gentle touches. Still, Simon promised himself back at the house that he would take the second chance life has given him, taking both of you back to life, and he was not about to waste the chance.

“Did you just sniff me?” He asks, more confusion than offence in his tone. He sees your eyes crease with a mischievous smile, as if you just did a naughty thing; but his eyes drop to your exposed neck.

He leans in. “I wanna smell you too.” His lips touch your skin, cutting your laugh short in a breath intake. Simon closes his eyes, taking your smell in. The body wash, the perfume, the slight alcohol smell pouring out of your lips.

It makes his mouth water and before he can process it, he drags his tongue, flat against the skin of your neck, up to your ear; biting your lobule softly. A stuttering moan slips through your soft kiss, your finger digging slightly into the muscles on his shoulder, and he repeats his motions needing to hear it again.

He hears it, a whiny moan around his name that has his hips buckling with his lack of self-control. Your hand slips lower, resting on his chest and using it to pull yourself back. His own hand flies from your back to cover your hand, the one resting on your thigh grabbing it to prevent you from slipping away.

He panics, heart sinking into his stomach, when you pull back and avoid his gaze. Your hand that is still under his curls, the fabric of his t-shirt still between your fingers.

He realises then and there, that only he is aware of his master plan of the menage a troi that he so badly wants. And that your mind and heart are not his yet, and no matter how bad you want him; Johnny is still the one in your eyes.

But he needs to make himself fit between the two of you, reel you to his side. His desperate mind tells him to ask you why is a problem with him when you bend over for Johnny so easily; but it would be the worst option possible, even his blurry brain knows.

So he picks your hand from his chest, kissing the knuckles as you grab his thumb. He moves, sitting with his back straight and you on his lap still; he looks down at you, caressing your exposed thigh. He looks at your face, moving to your eyes to your lips, he reads the hunger resting within your features.

He leans forward, slowly, really slowly, inch by inch; but still letting you walk the last step. He gets so close to your lips, that when you try to lick them before kissing him, the tip of your tongue licks his lower bit. And your first kiss is cut short with a victorious smile on Simon's face, the second one being longer.

His hand cups the back of your head, keeping you from pulling back as his lips find yours again. The thin layer of your saliva makes them move easily against each other, as if it was a trained routine. It is you again the one that licks his lips, asking him to part them; and getting your tongue inside once he obliges.

Your tongue tastes sweet, of the sugary cocktails that you liked to drink and that he used to make fun of you for drinking, talking about how you couldn't handle alcohol. And one night you convinced him to drink the same as you and he ended up so drunk he couldn't see the screen of his phone to call Price to pick him up even though the both of you were barely 10 minutes away from base.

But coming from your mouth it almost makes him forget the hangover he had the day later.

There is also a coldness to your mouth, the remains as well of the drinks you must have been having right before entering his office; still lingering around your mouth letting him feel how it slowly melts against the warmth of his desire.

“Ghost” You break the kiss, pulling slightly back and moving uncomfortably on his lap.

“Hm?” He simply answers, brows furrowed mimicking yours.

“What do you have in your pocket? Is poking me.” You ask, causing blood to rush to Simon's face. It slowly clicks into your mind, making you look into his eyes with a mischievous smile. “Are you-”

“I'm sorry, I promise I usually have better control of it.” He cuts you off, chuckling to himself. The shame from getting his crotch bulging with a boner after a mere kiss is too embarrassing to try and play it off as something else.

“That’s okay… do you… do you need help?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes; sending a shiver up his column and causing him to exhale a difficult sigh as he nods.

“Yes, yes I do.” He pathetically admits.

You stand up from him, smiling when you feel his hands linger on your body for as long as he can. You grab the hem of the dress, pulling it over your head and standing between Simon's legs in just your panties.

It shouldn't affect him as much as it just did the fact that you weren't wearing a bra under the dress. Simon might not have spent his life jumping from bed to bed, but he has seen his fair share of naked bodies; enough to weird him out his own body reaction at seeing yours.

Simon Riley who prides himself so much on his control of emotions, being turned into putty from your body and attention. The man stares at your body, almost unblinkingly as the mounts of your chest rise as you breathe.

You look at him, cocking your head as you step forward; knees pressed against his chair as you stand between his thighs. “Have I turned you silly, Simon?”

“A little bit, yeah.” He says, finally moving forward and resting his hands behind your knees forcing you to kneel on the chair in the tiny space right in front of his crotch. It also makes you need to rest your hands on the backrest of the chair in order not to fall forwards, and it leaves Simon trapped between your arms, the backrest and your body.

His new favourite prison.

He kisses your sternum, right between your boobs; an almost innocent kiss if it wasn't for the moan he lets escape at the feel of your skin on his lips. Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, pulling his hair forcing him to look up; he grunts softly at the stinging sensation.

No complaints leave his mouth as you move his head to make him suck your nipple into his mouth. You moan, closing your eyes as you let your head fall back. The stinging dissipates as strength leaves your body because of the warm mouth on your skin; making every other inch of your body feel cold in comparison.

His calloused hands rub your ribs, moving from the front slowly to the back, fingertips grazing on the back when he pushes you forward towards him. He leans back, pulling you with him and he sighs through his nose, completely content with the taste of your skin in his mouth.

Every inch of your skin still unkissed is like an offence to him, making it his own goal to cover your chest with open mouth kisses. Whenever a moan falls from your lips, his hips react to the sound, slightly thrusting the air, shaking the chair.

The skin of your chest is glistening with his spit when you finally push yourself back, a discomfort grunt emanating from Simon's throat at the sudden distance. You reposition your legs, leaving one on each side of Simon's thighs.

His belt is the next thing you grab, undoing it and taking it out of the loops; throwing it on the floor. The buttons come off next, and the zipper goes down just as fast. Simon's eyes are glued on your hands and the way you so easily pull him out of the confines of his boxers.

Something twisted inside of him gets elated when he sees how big his shaft looks between your hands, playing in his mind already the pained expression that will get painted on your face when you finally take him in.

He sees and feels the glob of saliva fall on his tip, looking at your face to see the thin string of spit still connected to your lips before you lick them. You wrap your hand around the head of his shaft, softly squeezing it before sliding your hand to the base.

Simon groans, closing his eyes as his hands grab your hips; finger slightly burying into the soft meat of your body. Such a delicate touch in comparison to the assaults his dick is used to from him, that leaves him mumbling and having to close his eyes so you don't see them roll back.

He can see how you use every bead of sticky seed that spills from his tip to add to the mess currently forming on his length. Thin strings of saliva and precum mixing together and keeping your hand connected to him, the same sparkle on both your hand and his shaft.

You pull your hand back, his shaft falling against his abdomen dirtying his t-shirt when the support of your hands disappears. You lock your feet under the armrest of the chair, and support yourself on the back on the table with a hand; you use the other to pull your panties to the side inviting him in.

He quickly moves his hand, grabbing his shaft by the base and slapping it against your glistering folds making your legs buckle. You let your panties move back, over him; keeping his length flush against your warm cunt. Simon furrows his eyebrow for a second, but he quickly understands your intentions when you start to move your hips up and down.

The juices spilling from you coating his dick, warm and sticky making him moan softly as he stares completely hypnotised as your panties bulge whenever your hips move down and his dick pushes against the fabric. Each thrust covering it more and more with his seed as it spills from his tips, the fabric clinging to him adding to the friction.

He knows he is not going to last, not with the way your thighs flex every time his tip catches on your clit, not with the pretty noises falling from your lips and definitely not with the way he can feel you clench right against his length, cunt angry at the lack of intrusion.

“Let me get inside, love.” He whines. “Let me fill your pretty cunt, please. Let me make you feel good, love.”

He should be embarrassed by the desperation on his voice, the whines, the begging, all of it. But with the way you look down at him, eyes dark with lust and hunger in them, he is too busy with not combusting to care about his pride.

You lean forward, grabbing the backrest of the chair again with a hand as you pull your underwear with the other. You are crouching down, glistering folds hovering over his twitching length. Your hand holds his shaft, simply keeping it close to avoid it from slipping out as you easily sink yourself on him.

Like a mirror, the two of you let go of a moan, head falling back as you go down. The stretch and the tight squeeze of your cunt makes the two of you turn into a babbling mess for a second, every nerve ending electrifying what it touches, feeling filled with his thick shaft, tip grazing the entry of your womb when you finally sit down completely, your ass resting on his hips.

Simon's mind betrays him, a note of disappointment when he sees you take him so easily; and it's his mind that makes the connection. He has seen Johnny naked multiple times, and he is aware of the man charms.

So his mind travels, to when he saw the two of you back at the house, to how Johnny must have stretched your lovely cunt uncountable times by now, to how he must have spend so much time prepping you for him, to how you must have mewl his name as he bend you over.

“What are you thinking about, Simon?” Your angelic voice pulls him back, looking up to see you. Looking down at him, the fluorescent lights of his office surrounding you like an halo, an angel blessing his unworthy person of your attention.

“Nothing.” He answers, breathing still difficulted by your grip on him even though you stopped moving.

“You seem distracted…” You reply, obviously having catched him with the empty look of his eyes; his mind clearly somewhere else.

“I'm sorry I called you into the tunnel.” Simon suddenly says, making you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him with a confused expression.

“Are you really thinking of that right now, Simon Riley?” You ask, the slightest tone of annoyance that you try to hide under a chuckle enough to force him to pull his shit together.

All his life Simon has mourned for the past, for the people he lost, for the people he didn't see to grow old, to the things he didn't get to live. But now life has given him a second opportunity to live those things, to love those people and to grow old with them. This is not the time to fuck things up.

“Why don't you focus on the present, hm? Stop thinking so much of the past…” You tell him, as if reading his mind. “Focus, Simon. Or I'll think you want me to leave.”

He nods, a short blunt nod, and that's all the signals you get from him before he hoist you up, standing from the chair. He sits you on the edge of the table, moving your legs so they rest around his waist and before you can say anything he starts to trust. The moans that fall from your lips sliding right into his hungry mouth as he kisses you.

Simon hides his face on your neck, drooling on it, as he mumbles about how you are never going to leave again, about how he needs you close by, about how he'll spend his life repaying you for reliving Johnny and yourself. The love confessions mixed with the abuse of your weeping cunt have your mind spinning, there is a constant drip of guilt in the well of your conscience that reminds you of Johnny.

You try to convince yourself you are not cheating on him, but you are perfectly aware that you are using the loophole that Johnny and you aren't technically dating. The fact that the only reason there was never a conversation about exclusivity was because for Johnny there was nobody else apart from you that existed. You had the upper hand and you were conscious of it, perfectly aware of the weight of your decisions.

But you have always felt the attraction towards the man currently between your legs and balls deep into you. You may regret it tomorrow, when you look into Johnny's blue innocent eyes, unaware of your betrayal.

It felt natural with Johnny, the line medic-patient was almost never there. Before the accident Johnny and you were already close friends, but the lines between friendship and something else were never crossed. So when Johnny woke up, and you become his everything it was difficult to avoid being his filtring target.

Not that you mind it, the cheesy pickup lines, badly done winks and warm hugs soon turned into little promises and soft kisses. There were no promises that you would make it back home, the threat of the enemy finding the two of you was high and even though you were a trained soldier you were aware you couldn't save the two of you alone.

So you found refuge on Johnny, on his embrace, his kisses and his warmth. You could die at any given moment, but Johnny made you forget about the constant threat.

But right now, you feel how Simon moves your legs up, resting your calves on his shoulder as he pulls you back; laying you down on the table, and he continues the unforgiving rhyming of his hips against yours.

The new angle has you mewling under him, brain so mushy you are sure whether you are moaning his or Johnny's name at this point, but it's not like it bothers Simon.

Your nails sink into his shoulders, back arching off the surface of the table as you fall over the edge, creaming his shaft as you clench down on it. Simon leans back, standing straight and groaning at the sight of the white ring on the base of his dick.

He grabs both of your wrists, using them as leverage to keep plunging into you; your boobs pressed together with the new position. Your climax gets prolonged with the unstopping thrusting inside of you, clamping down on him like a vice.

He moans your name when he finally comes, doing it inside on the warmth of your still convulsing cunt and pulling out to let the last beads of cum drip onto your chest, marking the territory like a badly trained dog. He looks down at you, arms spread once he lets go of them; looking up at him with a tiny smile on your face.

“Did I focus nicely?” Simon asks, chuckling to himself.

You give him a thumbs up, smug expression on your face making him laugh. He leans down, forearms resting on each side of your head as you pull your arms around his shoulders, pushing yourself up to softly kiss him on the lips. “I'm really glad you made it out of the tunnel, love… and that you saved Johnny…” Simon mumbles between kisses.

“Imagine how happy I am.” You whisper, yawning right after and making Simon chuckle. He helps you stand up, putting your messed-up panties back on his place and picking the dress off the floor to pull it back on you as you look at him with a sleepy smile on his face.

He knows it is nasty, his cum still drying up under the clothes, but his possessiveness takes over his senses and he simply puts his also wet dick back into his pants.

He walks you back to your room, with you hugging his arm as you walk back. Once you reach the door and open it, Simon leans down kissing you good night pulling back with a lovestruck smile on. You finally close the door and Simon turns around, and he sees him.

Johnny staring from the door of his room, perfectly aware of what just must have happened between Simon and you. Simon knows he must be hurt, betrayed even, that this could be a good opportunity to set some bases.

Instead, he looks at Soap still smiling and raises his middle finger up at him. Just like he did back at the house, instead Simon mouths at him:

“You're next, Johnny”

Hallooo 💗💗💗

I hope that you like the next chapter, I went from wanting to write an innocent little one-shot to writing a whole series! I'm posting the masterlist in a bit as well 💗

Thank you for the patience as well, I have been a bit MIA the past couple of days, so I hope I made it up with this hehehe 💗💗💗

As always, let me know in the comments or the reblogs if you like it and thank you so much for reading ❤️

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unsolvedjarin · 7 months

Text

COMPLICATED — prologue

pairing: (fernando alonso x driver!reader) (grid x platonic!reader) — mostly older!grid

summary: you and fernando were known to be the biggest rivals on and off track back in 2012. that rivalry even crossed the line to pure hatred many years ago. but how did that hatred turn you two into the loving iconic couple of f1 you are today?

note: i’ve been dying to write this for AGES. it’s the fic that’s the reason i made this blog. keep in mind however this is just the prologue, so i’m simply setting up the story for where i want it to go. after this mostly social media chapter it gets plot heavy. anyways i hope you enjoy this!!!

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tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, sebastianvettel, lewishamilton

yourusername beach day with my boys! had so much fun pretending to know what i’m doing while surfing (do NOT trust mark when he says he’ll teach you how to surf. he’s horrible.)

view comments

aussiegrit you falling off the board 272872 times was of your own accord, don’t blame the teacher!

jensonbutton mate you fell off your OWN board 272872 times, i think when it gets to that it’s the teacher’s fault

yourusername get his ass again for me jense

fernandoalo_oficial looking great amor! 🥰

yourusername thanks to my amazing photographer 🫶

jensonbutton what about the pictures i took?

yourusername they were definitely pictures!

fernandoalo_oficial posted a new story

—2012

This was not Fernando Alonso’s year. Losing the World Championship by 3 points was not good on his ego nor on his morale, yet here he was.

Everyone was celebrating Sebastian now for having won his 3rd World Championship– but Fernando was angry. Not at Sebastian, but at you.

You who had gotten first place.

You who was third in the Drivers Championship and had no chance to pass Fernando on the standings, yet still overtook him during the last two laps. You couldn’t even let him win.

“Good race Nando,” he heard a voice in front of him say. He paid no attention to it.

Getting no reply from him, you scoff and put down your water bottle. “I know you’re mad at me for getting first, but at least have some sportsmanship.”

That gets him to look up and take a proper look at you, post race sweat and your race suit dangling at your hips. He thinks you glow look terrible in this light. Because he was sat on some stairs, you were standing over him, hands on hips with a slightly smug look on your face.

“Don’t be a sore loser. It’s unbecoming.”

“I could have won the championship. I was three points away— three, and you could not even let me have that?” He gestures wildly. “I know you dislike me, but stealing my championship is far and beyond, L/N.”

He stands up, purposely hitting your shoulder as he walks past you.

Oh the bastard. He wanted to throw out accusations? Fine.

“Oh don’t be such a hypocrite. I stole your championship? What good would that even do me? I’m third in the standings, there was no way I was going to catch up to you,” you retort. Fernando was still facing away from you, but frozen on the spot. You knew he was listening. “I went faster because my contract with Mercedes expires this year. I’m losing my fucking seat, I need to prove to other teams I’m worth it. It’s bad enough you’re constantly fucking badmouthing my character to the press, and now you question my integrity as a driver? Honestly, Alonso, grow the fuck up. Not everything is about you.”

A silence befalls the room. Fernando doesn’t speak or do anything, and the seconds waiting for a response feels like minutes. He’s facing you at this point, speechless in his Ferrari race suit that looks fucking great on him. Too bad he’s a shitty person.

You sigh, exhausted. “Nothing?”

He shakes his head and looks down. Of course. He’s got nothing to say. Resigning, this time you’re the one to walk past him and towards the door behind him. He tries to look at everything else in the room that wasn’t you, the walls, the stairs, the tables, but that wasn’t enough to avoid your exasperated look that he could see through his peripheral vision.

He should’ve done something, anything. Stop you from walking away, tell you he’s sorry, just something. But he didn’t do anything. That was his first mistake.

One of many.

—PRESENT

MAHK WEBBAH

once again asking if we can change the group name

JENSE

it’s correct though? But while we’re on the topic of the groupchat can we change the photo

YOURNAME

its beautiful whats wrong with you

JENSE

okay then we’re not changing the group name

MAHK WEBBAH has left world champs + mark

YOURNAME

give him a few minutes he’s having a temper tantrum because skysports labelled his name as “Sebastian Vettel’s former teammate”

SEBBY

IJBOL

NANDO

??????

JENSE

??????????

YOURNAME

where the fuck did you learn that

AUTHORS NOTE: i know some of these are ooc but i had too much fun making the fake tweets 😵‍💫 this is quite a plot heavy fic from here on out, so put on your reading glasses!

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

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punkshort · 2 months

Text

somewhere to run | epilogue

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A glimpse into your life one year after the trial.

Chapter Warnings: fluff, language, alcohol use, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink 👀, dry humping

WC: 5.8K

A/N: thank you to all of you who came back week after week to feed into my delusions. I'm so glad there was an audience for this story because it kept me motivated to finish it and stay on track, so to everyone who commented, reblogged or liked... thank you!! ❤️

Series Masterlist

One Year Later

"Sarah!" you yelled up the stairs, craning your neck so you could hear.

"Almost ready!" she yelled back down. You hurried back into the kitchen right when the toaster popped up. Pinching the toast between your fingers with a hiss, you dropped both slices onto a waiting plate and sucked on the pad of your thumb as you turned around to grab the butter from the fridge. You heard her feet thundering down the stairs just as you were finishing up her breakfast. Turning around, you held out the plate to her right as she entered the room.

"Sorry! I overslept," she said, shooting you a grateful smile when she took the plate from your hands.

"No problem, you'll still make it to school on time," you replied, glancing at the clock before pointing to the stove. "Eggs," you told her, and she swiveled around to scoop some onto her plate before sitting down.

"Thank you," she said around a mouthful of food. You took a quick gulp from your coffee before it got too cold, then began pouring the rest of the pot into a thermos. Right on cue, Joel's heavy footsteps were the next to descend the stairs.

"Mornin', girls," he mumbled, fumbling with his tie as he walked. His hair looked disheveled and his eyes looked tired but you still grinned when you handed him the thermos. Giving up on the tie, he sighed with relief before taking a sip and winking at you over the cup.

"Here, let me," you offered, undoing the knotted mess and flattening the fabric back out so you could properly tie it for him.

He turned his head to the side so he could keep drinking his coffee without being in your way and eyed Sarah from across the room.

"Overslept?" he asked her, and she nodded tiredly.

"All set," you told him, flipping his collar back down and smoothing his dress shirt over his broad shoulders.

"Thank you, baby," he said softly before giving you a quick kiss.

"Eggs?" you asked him, turning around to fill your own plate with food. He took another sip of coffee as he flicked his arm out, his sleeve pulling back so he could check his watch.

"No time."

"At least take a granola bar with you," you said, opening a cupboard and handing him a little foil packet. He slid it into his pocket with the promise to eat it when he got to work, then looked over at Sarah again.

"Almost ready?" he asked, and she shoveled the last of her food into her mouth before nodding and standing up. You took the plate from her and rinsed it in the sink while she stuffed a binder into her backpack and zipped it shut.

"You can still drop me off at Jess's house tonight, right, Dad?" she asked, slinging her backpack over her shoulders. He froze as his brain tried to process what she said, working hard to remember if she had mentioned this before.

"What time?"

"Four. Right after school."

"Four..." he muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame it. "Shit, babygirl, I don't think I can make it all the way on the other side of town by four, I got somethin' to take care of after work-"

"But Dad! We have a science project due Friday, and tomorrow I have practice-"

"I can do it," you offered from your spot against the counter, still holding your plate of half eaten eggs.

"You sure?" Joel asked, but you could already see the relief in his eyes.

"Yeah, of course. I'm working til three, then my night class starts at five. I can go in between, no problem."

"You got class tonight?" he asked. You and Sarah exchanged bewildered glances before you looked back at him.

"Yeah, Joel, it's Wednesday. I have classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Are you feeling okay?" you asked, growing a little worried. Now that you were thinking about it, he seemed more frazzled than usual that morning, and even though your lives were busy, he never forgot your schedules.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind, is all," he said, shaking his head and turning back towards Sarah. "Alright, let's get a move on. Don't wanna be late."

"I'll see you after school!" you called to Sarah as she walked towards the front door and shoved on her shoes.

"Thank you!" she called back before swinging the door open and disappearing outside.

"Thank you so much, baby," he said, cupping your face with both hands for another kiss, this time slowing down and savoring it.

"You're welcome," you said, pulling back with a grin. "Now, go."

He smiled and backed out of the room. "Love you."

"Love you, too," you said, turning around to survey the damage from breakfast. When you first moved in, you were concerned you would get in Joel and Sarah's way, that the little routine they had for so long would be disrupted by your presence, but it was becoming clear to you that wasn't the case at all. Sarah was very mature and independent, which was a huge help to Joel because for years, she would do a lot of the cooking and cleaning to help out, but when you moved in you began to take on some of those chores, allowing Sarah the time to enjoy just being a teenager. And to be perfectly honest, you didn't mind. You enjoyed being part of a loving family who welcomed you into their lives without hesitation. It was something you yearned for your whole life, and now you finally had it.

Tommy and Maria were extremely supportive of your new schedule. You had been taking night classes for the past six months at the local community college, looking to get your associate's degree and maybe see what kind of job that could get you because even though you loved working at the diner, it was back breaking work and you really didn't think you had it in you to be a lifer. Besides, the odd hours were less than ideal. You wanted to have a work schedule that matched Joel's so you could be home with him at the same time.

One huge thing you would miss about the diner was seeing Joel almost every day for lunch. It was bittersweet to think about one day quitting the job that brought you together, but you knew it would ultimately be worth it. Better hours, better pay, and no nights and weekends were the goal.

Right on schedule, you heard the front door open and Joel's deep drawl greet Maria behind the hostess stand before you saw him out of the corner of your eye make his way up to the counter. When you looked up, you were surprised to see he wasn't alone.

"Tyler!" you said with a grin, and the younger man nodded in greeting to you. About four months ago you were excited to find out Tyler Bates actually did end up calling Joel for a job, and of course Joel kept his word. Apparently, the Philadelphia police force was not a good fit for him.

You couldn't ever imagine why.

Texas was treating him well. Gone was the clean shaven, crew cut man you once met. Now that the south wrapped its arms around him, his skin was sunkissed, his hair a little wavy, and he even had a bit of stubble across his jaw.

"What's the occasion?" you asked as they took their seats.

Joel clapped Tyler on the back before looking up at you. "One of my guy's retirin' soon so I offered this one a promotion," Joel replied.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations!" you gushed, and you thought you saw his cheeks turn a little pink.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I told you, you don't have to call me that," you scolded playfully. "Especially during our double date this Saturday. You're still coming, right?"

"As long as this Hailey still wants to meet me," he replied, sounding a little nervous.

"Oh, she definitely still wants to meet you," you teased, and Joel chuckled next to him.

"She's been textin' her every night askin' what she should wear and-"

"Joel!" you snapped, cutting him off with a warning look, but he just grinned.

"What? It's true!" he laughed.

"You're gonna embarrass her!" you exclaimed, then turned to Tyler. "Ignore everything he just said in the past thirty seconds."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a little smile, then dropped his focus to the menu.

You shook your head at Joel, trying to come off as mad, but you knew you were failing by the look in his eye and the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"You're in trouble," you muttered lowly, and a look of excitement flashed across his face.

"Mm, I hope so."

Your eyes widened with embarrassment but fortunately, Tyler was a gentleman and pretended not to hear. You made an aggravated face at him before turning your head and quickly changing your tune.

"What can I get for you, Tyler?" you asked sweetly.

Hailey and Tyler hit it off instantly. You never set anyone up before, but they were both so sweet, you had a feeling they would make a good match. Hailey was the only girl in town who seemed to be on your side. Although most people moved on to the next exciting piece of gossip, your drama long forgotten by now, you didn't forget how she never treated you any differently, even though you were sure it would have been easy for her to do. She even left book club after she and the rest of the town learned the gritty details of your case. You assured her that Nikki never could have known the real reason behind your divorce, that you hid those details well for most of your life, but Hailey still wanted nothing to do with her or the group of women who ostracized you. It didn't end up mattering much in the end. A few short months after your trial, right around the time you moved in with Joel, Nikki found a job out of state and moved.

Instead of book club, the two of you started your own monthly club. Sometimes that consisted of a book you both wanted to read, other times it was going to dinner and the movies. It was nice to have a standing date with her and catch up. And when she mentioned last month how lonely she had been and how envious she was of your and Joel's relationship, you immediately thought of Tyler.

Tyler: the man who, aside from Joel, changed everything for you. Who stood up for what was right, even at great personal risk, and traveled all the way to Texas to apologize to you in person for not doing more. He was a good man, and he deserved to have someone, too.

"We're gonna go play darts, you guys want in?" Hailey asked, her eyes shiny and her cheeks slightly pink from the alcohol. You had picked Hank's instead of a nice restaurant, figuring it would help loosen both of them up, and you were right.

"You go ahead, we'll join you in a bit," you said, shooting her a discreet wink when Tyler wasn't looking.

"I don't think they'd even notice if we left," Joel murmured before taking a sip of his beer.

"No, probably not," you said, watching them from across the room. Tyler was standing behind Hailey, trying to show her how to properly take aim at the target.

Joel's phone buzzed in his pocket and he slid it out, subtly angling the screen away from you.

"Is it Sarah?" you asked when you noticed the look on his face. Michelle had done what she said she would and reached back out to Sarah, and while both of their schedules were busy, they occasionally found the time to meet up. This weekend was the first time Sarah stayed overnight in Austin with her mom, and even though Joel didn't say anything, you could tell he was worried.

"No, it's just Tommy," he said, putting his phone face down on table and looking back at you.

"Everything okay?" you asked slowly, picking up on some kind of nervous energy from him.

"Yeah, everythin's great," he replied with a grin, then leaned in to quickly try to change the subject. "You really think they won't notice if we leave? Can't remember the last time we had the house to ourselves."

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw his gaze darken. "I think it might be a little rude if we don't say something-"

Joel stood up immediately and held out his hand to you. "Then let's say somethin'."

You stared at his hand before looking back up at him. "Are you serious?" you said with a little laugh, but he just kept looking at you expectantly. "Alright, fine," you relented, taking his hand and allowing him to help you stand. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you through the bar, nodding briefly at Hank before reaching the dart board.

"You guys good if we head out?" Joel asked, barely pulling their attention away from each other. Tyler looked at Hailey, giving her the opportunity to respond just in case she was uncomfortable, but she shook her head.

"Go! We've got a competition heating up here, and I'm determined to win," she said, smirking up at Tyler.

"Alright, have fun," you said over the music playing from the jukebox. Hailey caught your eye and gave you a look, and when Tyler went up to the board to retrieve the darts, you held up your thumb and pinky to the side of your head and mouthed call me before Joel turned you away.

"What's with the rush?" you asked when you stepped outside and the fresh air hit your lungs.

"No rush. Just wanna be alone with my girl, is that a crime?"

"I don't know, you tell me, sheriff," you teased, and he chuckled under his breath before opening his truck door for you. And even though he claimed there was no rush, he sure did seem to hurry around the front of his truck.

You studied the side of his face as he drove, your brows furrowed a bit at the way his eyes shifted nervously from the road to the time on the dash. His fingers anxiously tapped on the steering wheel at every red light and you tried to ignore it, but after the third red light and hearing him mutter curses under his breath, you couldn't take it any more.

"What's gotten into you? You're acting weird," you said.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are! You've been weird all week, actually. Is it because of Sarah? Don't be worried, I'm sure she's fine. It's good for her to spend some time with Michelle."

"I'm not worried 'bout Sarah," he said, and you pursed your lips but let it go.

When you pulled into the driveway, you caught the way Joel looked at the time and the front door before quickly turning the engine off and hopping out of the truck. He rounded the car and opened the door for you, but when you began to walk towards the mailbox, he stopped you.

"Where you goin'?"

"I'm getting the mail. I'm expecting some stuff from school-"

"We can get it tomorrow, let's go inside," he said, wrapping his fingers around your shoulders and you frowned.

"Why can't I -" you paused when a truck lumbered past the house, and even in the dark, you recognized it. "Is that Tommy?" you asked, but before you could get a good look, Joel forcibly turned you towards the house.

"No, I don't think so."

"What-"

"Baby, c'mon, please let's go inside," he begged, and by now you knew he was definitely up to something. You sighed and let him lead you up the porch steps, deciding not to make it any more difficult on him.

When he opened the front door you finally saw why he was so anxious to get inside. You were greeted with the soft glow of candlelight, and as you stepped inside, utterly confused, you noticed the red rose petals scattered over the floor. You racked your brain, trying to remember if you forgot a special occasion, but you were coming up empty.

"W-what is all this?" you finally managed to ask softly as you slowly entered the living room, noticing for the first time the bottle of champagne and two glasses placed on the coffee table next to a beautiful bouquet of roses already in a vase. Joel was suspiciously silent behind you as you continued to take in the scene. Was he really that excited to have the house to yourselves?

You turned around to ask him but the words got stuck in your throat when you saw him kneeling behind you, holding out a ring with trembling fingers.

Your hands flew up to your mouth with a gasp and your heart began to pound wildly in your chest, completely taken aback. Oh my god, this is it.

Joel took a deep breath. "Since the moment we met-"

"Yes!" you nearly shouted through your hands, making the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile.

"I got a whole speech planned," he said with a nervous laugh, but you shook your head and dropped to your knees with him.

"I don't care," you breathed, pulling his face against yours for a searing kiss.

He managed to break away for a moment, his fingers still pinching the ring. "Didn't wanna ask in front of people, I know what you said 'bout-"

You cut him off with another kiss, not wanting to think about your previous marriage in that moment.

"You could ask me in the middle of the grocery store with a twist tie and I would say yes," you told him, pushing your forehead against his. He gripped the side of your head, the ring getting tangled in your hair as he pressed his lips feverishly against yours again.

"I love you so much," he mumbled in between kisses.

Tears were beginning to form now that the shock was wearing off, but you tried to hold them back. "I love you, too," you whispered, then gripped his collar to pull him down. His hand cradled the back of your head as you eased yourself onto the floor, your lips refusing to leave his. Your fingers hurriedly went to the buttons of his shirt when he remembered the ring.

"Wait," he said, pulling back a bit, panting for air. He held it up and you eagerly held out your hand, both of you shaking a little as he slid the ring around your finger.

"Oh, I love it," you gasped, admiring the unique pattern of little diamonds surrounding a larger one in the center of a gold band.

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile, his eyes going soft. "Couldn't make up my mind. Finally had it custom made, took forever but it came in the other day-"

"You had it custom made?" you repeated in disbelief, and he nodded.

"Couldn't wait to ask you. It's why I've been so distracted all week."

"I love you," you said again, pulling on his shirt to close the gap between you. "God, I love you so much," you mumbled as your fingers resumed their work on his buttons while your lips drifted down his jaw, his stubble burning your sensitive skin in the best way.

"Love you too," he murmured, his mouth finding a home against your neck as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it over his shoulders and down his arms. "I've loved you for so fuckin' long. Just wanna make you happy, give you the life you deserve," he continued, his teeth grazing against your earlobe.

"You do make me happy," you moaned as you struggled to pull off your jeans.

"Let's go upstairs," he said, pushing himself up to hover above you, his chest heaving.

You shook your head and lifted your hips, bumping clumsily against him as you shimmied your pants down. "Here," you told him, watching his eyes travel down your now half naked body.

"On the floor?" he questioned, but sat back on his heels to work on his belt. You nodded, your eyes dark with lust as you stared at his bare chest, only looking away to yank your shirt over your head. He chuckled as he kicked his pants off and you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist and tugged him back down to you. "Okay, baby. Whatever you want," he said in your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Just want you," you whined, and your fingers came up to get tangled in his curls. He slipped his hand between your bodies and notched himself at your center.

"You got me, baby," he whispered, nibbling at your chin as he pressed forward, slowly stretching you open and making your jaw drop. "Got me forever. Always did," he added, his eyebrows pinching together the further he buried himself inside you.

"Oh fuck, Joel," you gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottomed out.

"Yeah? That feel good? Needed me so bad you had to have me right here, huh?" he growled in your ear. Your thighs tensed around his waist as you adjusted around him.

"Yes," you replied softly, gasping a little when you felt him pulse inside. "Want you everywhere. Can't get enough - god, you feel so good. Always feel so good," you rambled, knowing how much he loved it when you talked to him during sex. At first, you were embarrassed. You overthought what you should say, what sounded sexy, but you quickly realized it didn't matter. He loved it all.

He dragged his hips slowly, deliberately, building you up just so he could tear you apart. Savoring the sweet little moans that slipped past your lips as your walls squeezed around his cock and he was certain he would never tire of this.

"You're so beautiful," he said before crashing his mouth against yours messily. "Can't believe I get to spend my life with you," he added, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you against him, matching his thrusts.

You dropped your hands from his hair and pressed them against his chest, giving him a gentle shove. "Roll us over," you commanded, and he smirked.

"Yes, ma'am."

In the blink of an eye he ducked and rolled, pulling your hips with him and making you giggle when you found yourself straddling him.

"This is gonna fuck up my back," he warned you, shifting his shoulders as he tried to get comfortable on the floor.

"I'll give you a massage if it does," you promised, and his eyes lit up. He was about to say something smart when you began to roll your hips and suddenly, the words escaped him.

"Oh fuck, baby, that's it," he groaned, his hands lightly guiding you, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass. "Yeah, just like that, yeah... now bounce a little for me."

You did as he asked, your hands pressed flat against his chest as you bounced up and down, his eyes transfixed on the way your body glowed in the candlelight.

"So deep," you moaned, your head tipping back as your eyes closed, lost in the moment. "So good. You're so good to me, Joel. Ah!" you cried out as he began lifting his hips, thrusting up into you. He could feel the cool metal from your ring pressing into his chest and it only made him fuck up into you harder.

He quickly sat up, his arms circling around your waist and holding you tightly in his lap as he snapped his hips, little grunts and growls getting lost in each other's mouths, your tongues dancing together, desperately trying to get as close as possible.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered once you broke away, gasping for air. "Look at you. Gettin' all worked up. Couldn't even make it to bed, hm? Needed me to fuck you that bad, ain't that right?"

"Uh huh," you whined, your head falling forward, resting on his shoulder as you focused on his voice.

"That's alright, I'll give you anythin' you want. I'll take good care of you, baby. I'll give this perfect pussy anythin' she wants, too."

"Joel, I'm close," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your teeth pinching your bottom lip. Your eyes flew open when he hit that perfect spot and you gasped. "Right there! Please... please don't stop, don't stop," you gasped as you felt your cheeks begin to flush with heat.

"There? Yeah?" he panted, somehow managing to pound up into you with incredible force while sitting on his lap. You tried to respond but you couldn't. Your vision was going spotty and the heat pooling at the bottom of your belly was beginning to ignite. He seemed to understand because he kept up the pace, hitting that spot over and over while alternating between muttering filth and praise in your ear.

Takin' it so good. Such a good girl. Feel how hard you make me? I love you so much.

And maybe he got a little carried away, lost in chasing his own pleasure, not really thinking about what he was saying until...

"Can't wait to put a baby in you."

Your teeth clamped down on his neck, desperately trying to ground yourself as your orgasm hit you, forcing all the air from your lungs, his name barely a whisper on your lips.

He didn't even realize he said it out loud. He was too far gone, too close to his own release to think about anything else.

"I'm gonna come, baby, I'm g-gonna- fuck!" he groaned loudly, his stomach tensing and relaxing with each surge of his spend coating your walls until his body went lax, his shoulders drooping a bit and his arms loosening their grip around you.

"That was worth the backache," he finally mumbled, and you giggled from your place on his neck.

You kept expecting him to say something about what he said, but by the time you had untangled yourselves - you, gathering all your clothes and him, blowing out the candles - it didn't seem like he was going to mention it, so you let it go. And by the time you got upstairs, letting him wrap you up in his arms with your left hand splayed out across his bare chest, you had nearly forgotten all about it.

It must have been later than you usually slept. The sun was brighter than usual, streaming in through the windows and bathing you both in its glow. You were laying on your stomach, one leg hitched up towards your chest. At some point, Joel must have sought you out because his body was pressed flat against your back, his arm even resting on top of yours, fingertips grazing your ring as he slept.

Your ring.

Your eyes fluttered open so you could see it. Not wanting to disturb him, you tried to twitch your finger a bit so the stones would reflect in the light.

His nose nudged your shoulder blade, his face buried in your upper back, and you smiled. He was so close and so warm it made you never want to get up.

Then you felt his cock twitch against your leg and you bit your lip. It sounded like he was still asleep, his breathing hadn't changed, but his body was still reacting to you anyway, and the thought made you desperate for him again.

You tipped your hips back ever so slightly, just to see how deep of a sleep he was in. When he didn't respond, you wiggled your body a little more, flexing and stretching your limbs underneath him. His breath fanned over your shoulder, your hair fluttering a bit with each exhale. The ache between your legs was growing, so you ground your ass against him a little harder and you finally sensed a change in his breathing: he was waking up.

His fingers laced together with yours, your ring pressing into the palm of his hand and making him smile against your skin.

"Mornin', fiancée," he murmured sleepily. You hummed in response as you continued to lightly grind up against him, feeling him harden against the curve of your ass. "What're you doin', baby?" he whispered, his fingers tightening around yours.

"Nothing," you replied innocently, still rolling your hips against him.

"Don't feel like nothin'," he grunted against the back of your neck.

"What does it feel like?"

"Feels like you need me to take care of you again," he said, his voice still gravelly with sleep as he began to roll his hips in rhythm with yours. A soft moan slipped past your lips, the throbbing between your legs intensifying at the thought of waking up like this every day for the rest of your lives.

Joel's hand slid between your legs, his fingers brushing against your folds. He inhaled sharply and buried his face further into your back as he gently pet at your soaking heat, purposely taking his time and driving you wild. "Yeah, she needs me again, huh?" he said, his voice muffled. "Needs me to stretch her open 'n fill her up, ain't that right?"

"Yes," you whimpered, pushing your hips back into him, begging for it. And when you felt him press against your opening, his words from last night drifted back into your brain: Can't wait to put a baby in you.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes squeezed shut as he began to slowly push inside and you wondered how you went so long without him. How many years you wasted without knowing his touch. He was so perfect and sweet and kind and loving and now, he was all yours. Forever.

"Did you mean it?" you found yourself asking after he began to rock his hips into you from behind, slowly, making sure you felt every inch of him.

"Mean what?" he mumbled, his voice sounding strained as you stretched and clutched around him.

"Did you really want to put a baby in me?" you clarified, suddenly feeling nervous. His hips stalled and his eyes shot open and the pause he took before replying made your heart flutter anxiously in your chest.

"Do you want that?" he asked, his hand holding your hip in place, effectively stopping you from grinding against him.

"Maybe?" you replied, your voice higher than usual and you were relieved you couldn't see his face because you weren't sure your nerves could take it.

He nibbled lovingly at your ear, his teeth dragging down your throat as he slowly began to move again.

"Then maybe I did mean it."

You breathed a small sigh of relief and you pushed your ass against him, matching his pace. "Yeah?" you said, wanting to hear more. Needing to hear more.

"Mhm," he mumbled, his lips gliding over your shoulder. "You'd make a great mom. And fuck, you'd be so pretty with my baby in you."

"Mm," your cheeks flared with heat at the fantasy, and the way his thrusts were coming a little faster made you think it turned him on, too. "Imagine the looks I'd get," you whispered, your fingers clutching around the sheets as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His hand wrapped around your knee and pulled your leg up higher. "Walking around - ahh - walking around town, growing your baby in my belly. Letting everyone see how good you take care of me."

He groaned, his hips snapping faster against your ass, unable to hold back.

"You like that? You want everyone to see how good I fuck you? If you weren't on the pill, I'd do it right fuckin' now," he growled in your ear, and you gasped.

"Oh fuck, Joel, I'm close," you whimpered, your hands desperately reaching out for any part of him to hold. He noticed and he removed his hand from your knee so he could lace your fingers together again. He was fucking everywhere. Your whole body was covered by his, pinning you into the bed. His breath was warming your neck, his cock filling you up, reaching the furthest depths of you and you never felt more alive than when your orgasm finally took hold.

"Yeah, that's it," he cooed as you spasmed and whimpered beneath him. "Good girl. Fuck, yes, that's right," he panted, chasing his own high as you struggled to remain present. "So pretty when you come, s-so pretty, my pretty girl, love you so fuckin' much," he groaned, then his body stilled as he pumped you full once again, whispering your name weakly as he finished.

"Fuck me, baby," he moaned after he caught his breath. He lifted himself off you, your skin sticking together briefly before he slid out with a hiss. He collapsed on his back next to you, pulling on your shoulder so you flipped over and tucked you into his side. He tilted your chin up so he could slot his lips against yours, massaging them tenderly, lovingly, with a deep, contented sigh.

"You make me so happy," you told him, his fingers still pinching your chin. He grinned and kissed you again.

"I'm gonna spend my life givin' you whatever you want," he whispered against your lips.

Your hand drifted up to the back of his neck, your fingers tugging gently at the ends of his thick curls. His tongue slipped past your lips, slowly swirling around yours with a moan.

Just as you were starting to think you wouldn't leave the bed for the entire day, you heard two car doors slamming shut in the driveway and you both opened your eyes.

"Sarah's home," he said, pecking one more kiss against your lips before pushing himself up with a groan.

"Oh my god, does she know?" you asked, feeling bad you hadn't asked yet. He pulled on a pair of boxers and his discarded jeans as he looked at you admiring your ring.

"'Course she knows, talked to her 'bout it weeks ago. She's so happy, could hardly stop pesterin' me 'bout it," he said with a chuckle, then pulled a T-shirt over his head just as you heard the front door open. He tossed you your jeans as he headed for the door. "Better hurry up or else she's gonna come bargin' in here," he warned, then disappeared down the stairs.

You flung the covers off and quickly dressed, checking your hair in the mirror and glancing down at your ring once more before following Joel downstairs, excited to start the next chapter of your life with your new family.

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