#but it seems like it's 50/50 tonight on here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chuluoyi · 1 year

Text

fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

general masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.

Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!

9K notes · View notes

luminiamore · 4 months

Text

SOUL, PT.2

basketball player ony x black spiritual reader

first part here.

warnings: bomb dick, vibrating panties (idea came to me last minute)

masterlist

The day finally arrived. The man you had been crushing on for months— the man who sucked the soul out of pussy just two days ago— was taking you out on a date. Your nerves were racking up, your breathing heavy as you stared at yourself in your mirror. The scent of lavender and the burning blunt you just rolled are lingering in your nostrils. It was 5 p.m., 30 minutes before Ony told you he was coming with your outfit.

You were stuck in the mirror, fixing the baby hairs on your ginger wig as you took another hit. Your head was being hit pretty hard by the effects of the marijuana. Your gold and stone bracelets jiggled around with every movement you made. Why were you so nervous? This is the same man that slobbered over your clit on your clit appallingly not too long ago. So, why were you so nervous? You jumped when you heard a ding coming from your phone.

“omw mama.”

Another hit. You read the text without even clicking on the message, and if Ony was the type of nigga to go 50 on a 20 road, you had about 10 minutes before he came knocking on your door. You quickly wrap a pink silk robe from one of your hangers on your body, not putting on panties because you have a gut feeling. You already showered, already lathered your body in your strawberry body milk. Your light makeup sat perfectly against your skin, your lips brown and glossed.

The only thing left for you to do was to spray a bit of your Kayali Sugar Candy perfume, and after the final spritz, you heard a light knocking sound coming from outside your room. Your heart is beating ten times faster— he didn’t even tell you he was outside. Another hit, and you ash it out outside your window.

Your feet could barely be heard on the ground as you rushed to open the door and shit. Seeing Ony outside of his usual attire was doing more to you than you cared to admit. He was in a white dress shirt and black suit pants— all dressed up for the date he was taking you on. His hair was freshly cut, the first two buttons on his shirt were loose, and he had a freshly ripened hibiscus bouquet in his right hand and a medium-sized bag on his left. How did he know those were my favorite flowers?

“Heard you tell that girl you always with that you really liked these.” He smirks a bit when your eyes widen in realization that you said your thoughts out loud. You grab the flowers from his grasp, fingers burning when you accidentally graze his hand, and mutter a small, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in, Ony.”

His aura alone was so potent, so calm and safe, and inside, you knew your spirit guides were probably cheering you on. Your cat’s immediate approach to him, rubbing its head on his legs, was a sign that you made the right choice. Waiting for him to pet her, she plopped down on the floor, and unsurprisingly, Ony crouched down to honor her wishes.

You wanted him to take you now, but you knew Ony was a man of his word. He wouldn’t fuck you until after tonight. You just had to wait until after tonight. You glance up to where a regular clock is hanging above your door.

5:25.

..Waiting until after tonight suddenly seemed like forever.

“Not as beautiful as you. You smoking in here?” The smell of it was immediately detected when you opened the door. He smiled internally because he was waiting outside your apartment in his Hellcat while he texted you and lit his own joint. You really were meant for each other.

Ony thought you looked good enough to eat. Again. Nothing but a thin robe on you, accentuating your curves and showing a slight peak of your voluptuous brown tits. Flashes of you moaning his name and bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue started slipping into his mind— would it really be wrong to taste you again?

Your pretty voice breaks him out his thoughts, “Yea, you want a hit? Or two?” You release a chuckle, the sound making the tall man shiver a bit. He takes a deep breath— patience. He has to have patience. You’ll be moaning his name soon enough.

“Nah, was smoking before I got here. Here, mama.” He hands you the bag he was holding after you got done putting the flowers on your kitchen counter. You were a bit.. skeptical when Ony asked if he could dress you for tonight, worried that he might choose an outfit that you wouldn’t like.

What you didn’t know is that Ony observed you. Studied your peculiarities and the way you dressed when you walked up into Econ, he wouldn’t have asked such a question otherwise. He had precise knowledge of what to give you, and it was evident when you took the bag from him and found an exquisite crochet skirt set.

The skirt ended with shades of light to a deep royal purple, and the top had no straps. Flower patterns were all over it. There was also a pair of shoes, white mini heels with thin straps. And when you reached the bottom of the bag, you saw panties, purple, and flower patterns all over it, too.

“Ony, this is- It’s gorgeous. I-”

He kisses your cheek and gently pushes the items to your chest, “Go put ’em on. Reservation’s at 6:30.”

You giggle and nod, rushing to your room on your tiptoes. In your living room, Ony is waiting for you, lying down on your comfortable couch and petting your cat after she jumps onto his lap. He has reason to believe that you two wouldn’t make it outside if he came inside your room with you.

You take your time, slowly putting each piece on to not stretch the crochet material. Your last step was the panties, and you couldn’t help but feel that they were slightly heavier than any of the panties you owned. You’re about to examine it a little more, but you stop short when you hear Ony’s voice: “You ready, mama?”

Any confusion about the panties was long gone after you put them on, following the heels. After spritzing your perfume one more time, you grab your keys and head out the door, Ony following closely behind you.

It was a peaceful ride to wherever Ony was taking you, with only soft Brent Faiyaz music playing in the background and the light-burning sound of the half-finished joint he offered you. At every red light stop, you would let him take the hit until both of you finished it.

He parked his car in front of a garden-like spot just before you ashed it out, just in time. You are about to reach your hand to open your door but fall short when you hear a click!

“You should know better.” Was all he said before he got out of the driver’s seat and got to your side. As he opens the door for you, he grabs your hand to guide you out and leads you to a person who is ready to seat you both. Hand in yours the entire time. “Reservation for Onyankopon, please.”

The man gives a smile and gestures for you both to follow him. It would be an understatement to describe how beautiful the area was when you surveyed it. It was like a restaurant in a garden of flowers. You are led by the person to a table surrounded by grass and daises, with occasional butterflies flying around you.

“How did you even find this place?” You ask in complete awe. Ony spent a while trying to find a place he knew you would like. You didn’t seem like the type of person to like classy restaurants, and he definitely didn’t want to take you to some low-end place. He wanted to find something that resembled you. A place where you would feel completely comfortable.

And well, when you sat down, and a white butterfly made its way onto your awaiting finger... Ony couldn’t help but think he made the right choice. You look like a goddess. An ethereal being that was all his. “I drove by it one time, and it reminded me of you. You like it?”

He hoped you did. The expression on your face wasn’t telling him enough. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth, or else he would drown in his anxiety. All he wanted to do was please you.

“I love it, Ony.” A bright smile graced your face. You never looked more pretty— aside from when you made those gorgeous faces when he was pleasuring you.

A server came to take your order, Ony ordering for himself before the woman turned to you,

“And for you, miss?”

“Could I please have the-” The sensation of intense pressure vibrating on your clit causes you to stop your sentence with a faint gasp. Both of your hands are gripping the table to provide support.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

“You good, mama?” You look up when Ony questions and catch the faux concern in his eyes, his lips twitching up a bit as he almost fails to contain his smile. This was his doing. You knew those panties were different. And you seriously should’ve questioned why he bought you a pair anyway. Fuck it felt so good.

You steady your voice so you don’t stutter when you speak up, “… I’m okay. Could... I have the-the Shrimp Fried Rice, p-please.”

You curse yourself internally when you stumble upon your words. You observe as she reluctantly nods and accepts your order. You would’ve flushed your head down in embarrassment, but in your defense, you had a vibrator going at full speed on your clit. Fuck whatever she was thinking about you right now.

The minute she walks away from the table, you give Ony the meanest glare you could muster— which, to him, wasn’t doing much. In retaliation, he just turned the vibration up, causing you to yelp silently.

“Ony! W-why?” You whimper out as quietly as you can so as not to raise attention from the people around you. He just shakes his head, amused at how weak he could get you.

“You look so pretty like this, mama. Enjoy yourself, hm? You deserve it.”

He couldn’t get his mind off the events that occurred when you came to his dorm. Could you even blame him? For wanting to see more of those pretty faces you make. For wanting to eat you whole again.

He realized he couldn’t outright finger you in a public setting, not here anyway. He didn’t want to wait to fuck you so he could witness you fall apart like you did last time. He longs for you with a strong desire. Even 72 hours later, the flavor of your juices is still lingering on his tongue. “But-”

“Shh. Just try not to get too loud, yeah? Don’t want anyone else seeing those gorgeous faces you make.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your head falls back against your chair. This goes on for a good while, Ony just staring at you, biting your lips to stop the moans bottling in your throat from getting too loud. He watches as your pretty lashes flutter open and close while your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You rub your lower hips against the chair subtly in quick, fast motions to stave off your impending orgasm. Light gasps released from your throat when you feel a burning sensation in your abdomen. Just when you start feeling like the dam is about to burst and ruin the only thing that holds you up right now, everything comes to an end.

The vibration, your rubbing— nothing but your ears buzzing can be heard until you finally register what just happened. You don’t have time to dwell on it much because your waiter comes back with what you both ordered.

“Would you like some water, miss?” And this time, Ony grants you the mercy of answering for you, ears still buzzing and clit still twitching because of your ruined orgasm.

“She would, please.” When the waiter walks away from your table, Ony almost cracks under the pleading look you give him. He can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out. What if someone got to you before him? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Your soft and crackling voice reaches his ears, “Please, Ony. Let me-”

“Eat your food, mama. I said enjoy yourself, never said you could cum.”

Giving him a pout is all you can do, and his tone indicates that this is not a subject for discussion. The rest of the night went surprisingly well. The conversation was full of rich details about both of you. Only told you many stories about him, how he got to be a basketball player, and how it was a dream of his since he was a toddler. In return, you told him how you even started your spiritual journey, spoke about your childhood even because you were just so comfortable around him.

He didn’t turn back on the vibrator for the remainder of the evening, only listening to the sweet melody of your voice whenever you said something or laughed at something he said. It seemed like you hadn’t been here for that long when the bill came. You were truly in the present moment with Ony, so you lost all sense of time. But you caught a glance at your phone— 9:30.

Damn. It’s already been three hours? Ony takes out his wallet and pulls out some cash. He gently grabs your hand to pull you out of your chair so that you and he can leave together. Before you know it, you both are on your way back to your apartment. What catches you off guard is the intense vibration from the restaurant coming back, causing you to let out a loud moan in his passenger seat. Your passenger seat after tonight, if he was being honest.

Your body thrashes against the seat belt, hips bucking wildly because you are still so horny after being left on the edge like that. “F-Fuck!”

He pretends to be unfazed, his eyes still focused on the road as you release the honey moans contained in his car.

“Can you hold it f’me? You’re almost home, mama. I’ll make you cum as much as you want when we get there.”

He must like torturing you. That’s the only explanation. At his words, you don’t think you ever worked harder to stave off an orgasm in your life. The pressure feels so good, your body bubbling with heat and the pleasure being felt in every corner. You wail when the vibrator hits a particular spot on your clit due to your hips rapidly shaking and moving.

Your breathing starts to become erratic as you release light hiccups. Your efforts to not cum are so intense that tears are falling from your brown eyes. Why was it taking so long to get home?

“I n-need to.. cum. Please!”

How do you do that? Look so divine while your pussy is being overstimulated? He almost wants to let you have cum because you look so pretty while trying to beg for him. But then he thinks about how he doesn’t want you finishing on anything other than the massive tent in his pants, and he figures— you can wait a bit. He’s pulling up in your garage anyway, and he wasn’t going to fuck you in his car for your first time together.

Your heavy breathing and the sudden slam of Ony’s door are all that remains in the car when he puts it in park. He opens your door and swiftly holds you in a bridal style to your apartment number. He presses light kisses to your cheek, his tatted hand rubbing gently on your wide hips.

He doesn’t wait a second to devour your lips once you open your door, your moans being muffled by the sheer force of the kiss. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, fitting perfectly as your lip gloss was smeared onto him. Still in his hold, you weakly point to the direction of your room, which he follows wordlessly. Heels are long gone, and been thrown in the hall amid your make-out session.

He plops you down on your mattress, and you don’t hesitate to yank him down towards you into another brutal make-out session, your smooth legs encircling his waist. You gasp when he firmly squeezes the fat of your tits, allowing him to dip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad. Your skirt rises, and soon, there’s nothing but his pants and your panties separating the two of you. Ony was unusually big.. you knew this when you first saw his print at his dorm. And right now, as he was fumbling to take his belt off, your mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how you were going to fit all of him inside of you.

All thoughts went out the window when he ripped your damp panties off in one go and immediately started playing with the obscene amount of slick that’s been gathering ever since he came to pick you up. Your cute sounds are heaven to him.

His deep voice whispers in your ear, “You’re so wet, baby. Don’t need me to prep you, right?”

His fingers are moving rapidly against your clit, as he is awestruck by how his hands keep slipping off out of rhythm due to your wetness. Or maybe he was already drunk on you, desperate to split your pussy apart on his cock. His pants aren’t even entirely off before he’s fisting his fat cock out of his boxers and slapping his brown tip right on your pussy lips, creating wet squelching sounds.

“Could just slip right in with how you’re leaking all over your sheets. You gonna take it, mama?”

And he was right. Your wetness was creating a dark stain on your bed, likely gonna start seeping into the mattress. You sneak a glance down at Ony’s ministrations, and you immediately try to move your hips away. This man was dead-ass walking around with a third leg. It was so big, it actually scared you. How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside of you? Even your last fling wasn’t this hung.

He immediately pulled your hips back towards him, refusing to let you run away from the deep fucking he’s been craving to give you. “Don’t do that. Take it f’me, baby. Please?”

You whimper, his pleading tone getting you even more wetter. “O-Ony.. you’re too b-big! I can’t- Ooo fuck.”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he sank his length past your tight walls, making you feel every inch of him. Fuck, he was so deep, and he almost wanted to cum right there. He looks down at you and shit.

You never looked more beautiful, as he said. Your mouth is constructed into a lovely “o” shape, and your eyes roll back so deep into your skull he can see your white eye sockets. You were drooling, the feeling of his dick inside of you simply too much for your tiny brain to handle. He wasn’t gonna last long.

Your wet cunt was so stretched out, and Ony didn’t even give you a second to relax before he started feeding you deep, harsh strokes. You could do nothing but let tears fall from your eyes and wail his name so loud you’re sure you’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors.

“Gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my dick like this, you love it baby? Talk to me, mama.” He pleads as his face is buried in the crook of your sweat-filled neck, the feeling of your pussy being better than he ever imagined. Than he ever dreamed of. The sounds you both were making were so lewd, so nasty. But it was bringing you much closer to splashing all over his disheveled dress shirt.

“So-so good, Ony! L-Love it s’much.” Your pretty cries make him groan loudly against you; you can feel it vibrating against your chest. Your mind is blanking, and the fire in your stomach that you felt twice today is coming back, only much stronger. Your already overstimulated clit is causing it to come much faster.

With every thrust he gives you, you give Ony a beautiful yelp. And he could only watch your face contort as you struggle to find something to hold on to, to ground you. You’re a bit dense if you think he would let you do anything other than feel every spec of what he gave you. He grasps both of your hands with only one of his hands and presses them above your head.

“Pussy’s so damn good, shit. M’gonna cum. Where you want it, mama?”

And you respond to him so eagerly, choking on your spit when he presses down on your stomach, his bulge being prominently displayed every time he thrusts in and out of you.

“Ahhh! M-me too! Inside, Ony. P-Please Ony, cum in m-me.”

He can’t say no to you, not when you beg him to fill you up with tears like that. The final straw for you was when he forced his tongue into your panting mouth again, swallowing every gasp and moan that managed to fall past your lips. You make a sudden and unwarranted shriek against his mouth, and your pussy splashes all over him.

He groans as you babble his name repeatedly, allowing salty tears to flow freely down your cheeks. Your body twitches as your pussy creams and squeezes tightly around him, and that’s enough for Ony to shiver as his cum spurts past your womb. He should have slowed down or stopped because now you both feel overstimulated.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thrusting his hips rapidly against you, the feeling of you squirting on his dick quickly becoming something he wanted more of. He needs you to do that again. He needs you to spray your sweet juices so hard it reaches his face. Your chest is heaving as you try to wriggle your hands out of Ony’s grasp to slow him down. Your attempt doesn’t do much but make him tighten his grip on you,

“Give me another one, mama. Come on, just one more, baby.” And by the look on his face, even you can tell it wasn’t just going to be one more. You were in for a long night.

check out my store :D

#onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x you #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #aot smut

2K notes · View notes

bahablastplz · 7 months

Text

Best Friend: Han x Reader

Thinking about how Jisung is always the reader's best friend in fics, which made me think of best friend to lovers Jisung x Reader.... Content: Smut, Fluff, A little Angst Warnings: Oral sex, Unprotected sex, P in V sex, Dirty talk, Use of the word 'slut,' Hair-pulling, Maybe some praise kink if you squint WC: 3400

“Which dress should I wear?” You question. You hold up two dresses in the mirror and place each one in front of your body, eyebrows furrowing as you imagine each one on your figure. You look at your best friend through the mirror, gauging his reaction.

“Black,” says Han, though he doesn’t look up from his phone.

“Jisung!” Your sharp tone makes his eyes shoot open wide, a surprised look on his face that you’ve gotten to know well over the years–the one he makes when he knows he’s gotten himself into trouble. “You didn’t even look at the options!” You scoffed at him incredulously.

“I didn’t have to,” he says snidely. “The red one makes you look sexier, the black one makes you look… I don’t know, sleek?” “Sleek,” you say with a laugh. “Okay, so I should wear the red one!” As you go to hang up the black dress in your closet, your friend appears from behind you.

“On a first date? You’re not trying to seduce him just yet,” he jokes.

“But I wanted to look sexy,” you pout. “Plus, you never know–” Before you can finish your sentence, Han snatches the red dress from your grasp and runs out of the room at full speed. Mouth agape, you run after him giggling. Jisung makes some screeching noises as he runs around and he even hops onto the couch, standing above you. You take a moment to keel over, laughing at him while catching your breath. This is something your friend has always been good at doing; making you laugh. Especially on a night like tonight in which you were more nervous than you cared to admit, Jisung knows exactly how to push your buttons and have tears forming in your eyes from his humor.

“Give me that, please, Sungie. You’re gonna mess it up!” You fake glare at him and cross your arms, watching as he holds the dress up over his head.

“I can’t believe you’re ditching movie night for some guy,” he says. “Movie night, it’s an annual tradition… to just abandon it… It’s heresy! Heresy I say!” You shake your head at the man before sitting next to him on the couch. He sits as well, abandoning his ridiculous stance, and takes a deep breath next to you.

You lean your head against his shoulder before sighing. “It’s not just any guy,” you say softly. “Seungmin seems special. I think he really likes me.” Jisung ignores the panging in his chest. The fact of the matter is, Han Jisung is undeniably, uncontrollably in love with you. And normally, he has absolutely no problem with that fact, especially with hiding it from you. But on this night in particular, there is one issue: You are going on a date.

You’d been on dates before, of course. But not since Jisung has identified his attraction and feelings toward you. And what could he say? That he was jealous, that he wanted you to stay here and get with him instead? Of course not!

“I… I know, jagiya. Um, you’re going to have a good time,” he replies into your hair. “And hopefully get laid. You’ve been so tense lately.” God, why did he say that? He didn’t want to think about that, especially with a guy that wasn’t him!

You laugh and push his shoulder lightly. “God, I hope so. I just need to be fucked like a slut, you know?” You grin at him widely, but he feels like he might get sick at your words. Usually, the two of you have no problem joking with one another, and yes, maybe 50% of the time your jokes are rather explicit, but Jisung can’t help but run a hand through his hair and take a deep breath at your words.

“Don’t say that,” he groans, albeit with a weak smile.

“Ughhh, but Sungie…” you laugh. “You know I’m joking but it’s been so long… I do want to be folded in half like a pancake–”

He lets out a nervous laugh and holds his hand over your mouth.

“Seriously, gross,” he says. You lick his hand. In disgust, he gets up, handing you the red dress in the process.

“Thank you!” you preen at your friend and jump up, running to your room to get ready for your date. He follows to watch and lay on your bed.

You look stunning in the red dress, of course. He knew you would. But coupled with the lipstick, the hair, your perfume… it makes his heart pang and sit heavily in his chest.

You are in a rush. As you say goodbye to your friend and start to lock up, he pulls you into a tight hug,

“Sung… You’re not seriously mad about movie night, right?” You laugh against him but feel yourself growing red at the proximity. You can smell his shampoo from here, and his embrace is so tight, his arms wrapped around you so tight that it makes you gulp. You push him away slightly just so you can look in his eyes.

“No, of course not,” he says, but he’s slightly pouting. You would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying close attention to his face, and if you didn’t know each of his expressions like the back of your hand. “Just… I hope you have a good time tonight. Text me if you need me, kay? And turn your location on… just in case he’s really a serial murderer or something.”

“Alright, you got it. Thanks so much for coming over,” you say as you lock your front door, allowing your friend to leave the house with you.

“You never have to thank me,” he reminds you. ***

The date went alright. Seungmin was a sweet guy, he really was. He took you out to a nice restaurant and he flirted with you, he made you smile, and he was just the epitome of a gentleman. But, you realized there just wasn’t a spark. Something was missing. There were no butterflies, no rush from your heart to let you know he was the one. And you told him as much at the end of the night. There were no hard feelings, really.

So why do you still feel so damn emotional?

As you step into your house, you pull out your phone and you’re texting Jisung before you even realize what you’re doing.

Y/N: Can you come over?

Sungie: Already OMW!

You’re laying on the couch, sulking emotionally. You half debate cracking open a bottle of wine to drink your sorrows away but decide against it.

Instead, you wipe away small tears and hold yourself back from sniffling. Jisung bursts in your front door, looking around frantically. The sight makes you hiccup laugh through your tears and he’s running to you, kneeling in front of you on the couch.

“Fuck, jagiya, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him, I’ll really kill him, I promise… Well, maybe not kill him, but I swear I’ll really hurt him…” He starts rambling and it makes you laugh.

“I’m fine, Ji. He didn’t hurt me… The date actually went really well.”

“Oh,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. He looks into your eyes. “Shit. You scared me. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull shit, or you wouldn’t have called me over,” he says. He puts his hands on your knees and his head on the couch, looking up at you.

“Just… we didn’t click. He was so sweet. He still paid after I told him I didn’t want another date, which was really nice… Is there something wrong with me?” You ask. You look into his eyes and he swears he could split in half, your teary doe eyes making him want to burst into tears himself.

“Of course not, why would there be?” He questions.

“Just… It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, even longer since I’ve dated someone… I finally get to go on a date with a nice, hot guy, and I completely blow it. What if that was my last shot? What if nobody wants me?” You wipe a tear away.

“Don’t say that,” he says sharply. Your eyes widen. In all the time that you’ve known Jisung, his demeanor has always been relaxed, joking, and somewhat aloof. So for him to be so blunt and sharp with you? It makes you tense up. “That isn’t true.”

“How do you even know that?” You cross your arms at him and shoot him what you hope is a nasty glare but you know it probably comes across as much more pathetic.

“Because I love you.”

You scoff at him. “Han Jisung, if this is some sort of sick joke you better count your days, because that’s a really fucking low blow after tonight.”

“Y/N, I would never joke about this. I love you much more than you could ever realize. I have loved you for so long… It hurts. I have wanted to tell you for so long, but I was so scared of messing up our friendship. There’s nothing more in this world that I love more than your smile, more than making you laugh.” He pauses, gauging your reaction. For once, he truly doesn’t know what you’re thinking and it scares him, but he continues anyway. “Just… The thought of you going out on that date tonight, it made me so sick. The thought of you kissing someone that wasn’t me… God, you didn’t kiss him, did you? Argh, that would make me so sad… But I just… I don’t even know the guy and I couldn’t help but think that I would be better for you. That he wouldn’t be able to make you laugh, and he wouldn’t know how absolutely ridiculous you look when you dance while you’re drunk, and he wouldn’t know that Saturday nights are our movie nights, and he wouldn’t know that you say your favorite color is lavender, but it’s actually–”

You cut off the man by lunging forwards onto the floor and pressing your lips into his. The kiss is searing and all-consuming and he pulls you forward until you’re in his lap. As you straddle him he holds your head in his hands, brushing hair behind your ears as he brings you further into him. You’re both emotional and out of breath but so desperate to have things keep moving forward that when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, it’s all tongue and teeth and heavy breathing but holds more feeling behind it than any kiss you’ve ever had.

“Jisung…” you whisper, pulling away. He looks at you with wide eyes, pupils blown out. He’s panting and his hands take place on your arms, holding you in place as he searches deep into your eyes.

He pulls you into a deep embrace reminiscent of the one you shared just this afternoon.

“I feel the same… I think the reason why my date went so poorly is because he wasn’t you.” You hear his breath hitch and he pulls you impossibly closer, looking deep into your eyes before pulling you into another kiss. This one is more gentle and chaste but fills you with desire nonetheless. “I didn’t kiss him, by the way,” you say. Your statement puts Jisung at ease. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, Sung.”

You kiss him again but start to trail down his neck, leaving wet open kisses behind. Jisung is a panting, moaning mess beneath you, and his noises encourage you to go further. You lift his shirt up over his head and press your crotch into his, relishing in the sounds he makes as you kiss his chest, his collarbones, and his abdomen before you feel a hand weave itself into your hair, pulling you harshly.

“Still want to be fucked like a slut?” His words make you gasp.

“Ji, I was joking,” you say, but his hand pulls tighter on your hair, revealing your neck to him; wet open-mouthed kisses and tongue pressing against your neck releases a loud, nasty moan from your lips.

“You can’t lie to me, baby,” he says into your skin. “We’ve joked about it too many times for it to really be a joke. Can you answer me? Do you want to be fucked like a slut? Say the word and we can stop.” He lifts up your dress and throws it off of your head almost comedically, and it would have made you laugh if you weren’t now on complete display for the man.

“Yes… please.” That was all the word Jisung needed to go forth and absolutely ravish you, taking your body as if it were his own. He sucks small marks against your skin, guiding your hips to rock into his own in steady movements. Meanwhile, he unclasps your bra, discarding it to God knows where, paying full attention to your now exposed skin.

“So beautiful… God you’re making me feel so good, grinding against me so good baby… I’ll cum soon, I’ll cum in my pants if we don’t stop,” he rambles. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, paying it full attention while teasing the other with his thumb. Your head falls back from the pleasure, from the enticing man underneath you that you’ve known for so long, for the man who’s cologne has been engraved in your brain for years but only now does it make you feel needier with lust and desire when it floods your senses. Suddenly, he lifts you off of his hips with alarming force, placing you to sit on the couch while he remains underneath you on the floor.

“Please, can I eat you out? Let me make you feel good baby, please,” he begs, rubbing small circles onto your thigh. You nod your head at him, lifting your hips and your underwear is removed in an instant.

He dives forward, wasting no time before connecting his mouth to your glistening core. You moan loudly at the contact and his arms reach forward to pull you closer to his face. His wide eyes meet yours and he grins, absolutely deriving his own pleasure off of yours and the way you squirm beneath him. He eats you out in a way that is similar to his personality; it is messy, it is eager, and it is all-consuming. His tongue flicks desperately against your clit and you buck your hips up into his face but he holds you down easily, forcing you to take what he gives. His tongue switches between teasing your entrance and giving your clit his direct and undivided attention, and the pace makes you feel dizzy.

“Please, please,” you say, and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for. He changes the angle suddenly, pressing your legs up to your head so that you’re completely at his mercy. He spits right onto your aching hole, the act crude but making you moan nonetheless. Immediately he dives back in, holding your legs as he sucks and flicks at your clit until you’re shaking from overstimulation.

You try to warn him but it’s too late, you’re thrown over the edge with a loud sigh. He guides you through it, lapping at you languidly with his tongue as you pulse against him from aftershocks. He releases from you and the lack of contact makes you feel antsy, immediately wanting more, immediately craving that contact again.

“Jisung,” you breathe out. “Again… want to feel you again, please. Need you… touching me, please.” He wastes no time before pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift blow and you moan at the sight of him naked before you. You reach to touch him and stroke his cock but he stops you, guiding you to your feet. Your legs tremble but he holds you steady.

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but he shushes you, grabbing your hips and bending you over the side of the couch. He pushes your back down so that you’re arching for him, ass pressed up in the air.

“M just giving you what I promised,” he says, rubbing your back almost soothingly as he teases your entrance with his cock. Every time he makes contact you hiss and try to press back into him, but to no avail. “You made me wait this long to let me fuck your pretty pussy babe, should I make you wait too?”

His words make you moan out, and you’re babbling before you even realize it. “Jisung, Sungie, no please… Please Ji… I need you so bad… Please let me… Please don’t make me wait… Fuck… Please…”

His laugh is airy, as if you’ve knocked all of the air out of his lungs. You tilt your head back, trying desperately to see his face, and his expression is exactly how you imagined it; desperate, incredulous, lips parted open in a small ‘o’ shape. That’s the last thing you see before he presses his full length into you and your eyes screw shut from pleasure.

He immediately groans out, trying to stay still but desperately rocking his hips into you deeper, right against your g-spot which makes your eyes roll back and tighten around him. In turn, he begins sharply rutting right against your hips, shallow but deep.

“Fuck, fuck, jagiya. You feel… so good. Just like how I imagined,” he starts. “Your pussy… God, it was made for me to fuck… For me to fuck you dumb.” He is stuttering and rambling but you don’t even care, his words, soft moans, and pants making you feel incredibly needier. He reaches forward and pulls you up against him, grabbing your head and meeting your lips into a blinding and messy kiss as he fucks you. It makes your head reel and his hands find your tits and grab them hard for just a second as he finds his pace but the overstimulation makes you go stupid with desire.

Just as fast, he pushes you into the couch again. He grabs both of your wrists from behind and pulls them into his hand, using the momentum as a way to let himself fuck into you harder and deeper. You’re crying now, tears flowing from your face from pleasure and letting out noises that you didn’t know you could make, loud ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ from every thrust of his hips into yours.

“Please tell me you’re close, baby,” he says shakily. “Fuck, I don’t think I can last much longer.” His words make you close your legs together as he fucks you, the friction sending you even closer to the edge.

“So close, Sung, please.” Your words barely escape your mouth but you know he hears you, as his hands take place on your hips now, his death grip searing as he pulls you all the way on and off of his length, slamming into you at full force.

“Cumming,” you say, and you can only warn him the one time before you’re spasming and convulsing all over his cock, his soft and gentle praise guiding you through it in complete contrast to his harsh actions against your body. You’re still pulsing with aftershocks as he groans, pulling out of you and releasing all over your back in hot spurts. As the two of you catch your breath, he immediately pulls you into a kiss again, gentle yet passionate.

“I love you so much,” he says. “Wanted to do that for so long. Wanted you. Wanted you to be mine and wanted you to know how much I love you.” His eyes meet yours, searching, waiting for a response.

“I love you too, Jisung.” He smiles and his eyes close, relishing in the fact that finally, you are now undeniably his.

He cleans you up and guides you into your room, pulling you into his arms. Your head rests on his chest and your limbs are an intertwined mess, unable to differentiate where you start and Jisung ends. That night you watch your movie, the way it was destined to be all along. Jisung’s jokes make you laugh until you cry, and this time he is able to tell you that making you smile is one of the greatest pleasures he has ever been graced with in his life, and he tells you this with a kiss pressed against your mouth. ***

Masterlist Recs

#Han #Han Jisung #Han Jisung x reader #han x reader #skz #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz scenarios #Han jisung x you #jisung smut #Han smut #han jisung smut

1K notes · View notes

ghostbsuter · 1 year

Text

"And? What did you decide on?" Duke asks, fork slipping from his mouth and chewing, focused on Danny.

The boy in question hums. "Oh yeah, I'm totally joining in on the nightlife."

The statement has all of them stopping in their tracks, blatantly staring at the still eating boy.

"This will be my emo arc, daylight vigilante turned dark."

Tim snorts, Jason gives a smirk, nudging the eldest sibling next to him from his frozen state.

"Ooooh," Steph leans forward. "Have you decided? Bat or Bird?"

"New name?" Cass jumps in on the questioning with a small smile, eyes crinkling.

"Will you be joining us tonight then, danyal?" His twin speaks up for the first time during dinner, eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Yes." Is the short reply, with the way damian's lips turn down and displeasure makes itself clear, the intention of giving such a short answer has been met.

"Danny," Bruce gains the attention, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked and brows furrowed with what must be worry.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into this just because everyone else is—"

"I'm more than sure, B!"

The man sighs. "And I won't be able to stop you?"

"Mhm." He gives a nod.

"Okay," his shoulders sag in defeat. "Do you have everything then—?"

"Yep!"

"Even—"

"B, I'm pretty sure I got everything, you can, if in your opinion I am missing something, give it to me later!"

Danny grins, pushing himself up from the table and rounding around towards the door.

"Besides! My whole get up will be a suprise!! So stay awake folks because I'm gonna blow ya all away."

As he leaves, Steph and Duke make sounds of anticipation, curiosity eating at all of them.

(They dont know whats gonna hit 'em.)

"I'm betting 50 bucks that he's gonna be a bat."

Alfred shakes his head at the newfound excitement.

—

What an exciting night.

There is still no sight of their newest, despite oracle's teasing, having apparently already been included in the suprise.

"Well well well," a sly, yet teasing voice makes itself into the open. Catwoman, in all her glory, walks up to the group of bats and birds.

"If it isn't the bat, what's with the gloomy face?"

Batman gives her a nod. "Cat."

Her eyes roam the group and she tilts her head. "Everyone seems to be here tonight." She comments.

"We're waiting," the man shares. "Our newest decided to be more secretive about his debut."

Catwoman gives him a smug smirk. "So I have heard," a chuckle. "I've come here to introduce you to someone, truthfully."

"Oh? Who is it?" Nightwing perks up, having finally decided to join in.

"Me."

Some yelp, whip their head around and away from the lady in black, gasps and cooing (particularly from steph) fill the roof and Danny joins them.

He wears black combat boots, they're heavy just from the look, but make no sound as he jumps around. The front of the boots look like cat paws, they're reaching up to his knees.

Then comes the baggy black pants, knees protected by poleyn and his belt acting as a cats tail. The hoodie he is wearing is also black, with fingerless gloves (only the middle finger is covered) and reaching up to his neck.

Instead of a domino mask, he wears a hood with cat ears and a dark face mask. Cass claps, knowing fully well he took inspiration from her own get up.

The whole outfit is detailed with orange spots, some parts brown and others grayish.

"Meet my new mentee, Calico."

Danny, Calico, waves.

3K notes · View notes

driverlando · 13 days

Text

✧.* AFTER HOURS

synopsis - I'll risk it all for you, I want you next to me

before you continue: I’ve been working on this for the past month, so pls be nice! It’s a 6k-word bad boy/biker Lando x waitress (f!reader) set in the 50s. there’s a mix of romance, tension, and some smut (minors DNI!). excited to hear your thoughts—enjoy! xx

The neon sign above the diner hums softly, its pink and blue lights flickering in the darkened night like a beacon. It’s the only thing that seems alive at this hour, casting a soft glow on the otherwise empty street. You’ve been working at this place for a while now, long enough that the rhythms of the night shift feel second nature. The jukebox in the corner has long since stopped playing, the last notes of Elvis Presley’s latest hit fading into the air. The diner is quiet, save for the occasional clink of dishes in the back or the low murmur of conversation from the last remaining patrons—a couple of old men nursing their black coffees.

You glance at the clock above the door, a wave of relief washing over you as you see it’s nearly the end of your shift. All you want is to get out of this uniform, go home, and maybe catch some sleep before the morning light creeps through your curtains. The night has a chill to it, the kind that seeps into your bones, reminding you that summer is fading fast.

The bell above the door jingles, and despite yourself, your heart skips a beat. You don’t even need to look up to know who it is; you can feel his presence like a shadow that lingers just out of sight. Lando Norris. The town’s resident bad boy, the one all the girls whisper about and the one your mother warned you to stay away from. He’s trouble in every sense of the word, and yet, you find it impossible to ignore the way the air seems to crackle when he’s around.

He’s been coming in every night for the past few weeks, always showing up right before your shift ends. You’ve tried not to pay him any mind, but it’s hard when he looks at you the way he does, with that cocky smirk that makes your stomach twist and your heart race.

Tonight, he’s wearing that same leather jacket, the one that makes him look even more dangerous. His hair is tousled, damp from the cool night air, and there’s a hint of rain on his skin. He strides in like he owns the place, but his eyes are on you the moment he steps through the door.

“Hey, doll,” he greets, his voice smooth, with that hint of something playful and teasing that always makes you bite back a smile.

“Lando,” you acknowledge, keeping your tone even as you wipe down the counter one last time. “You’re here late.”

He shrugs, sliding onto the stool right in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face. “Couldn’t stay away.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way his words make your pulse quicken. “What’ll it be tonight?”

“Just a coffee,” he says, leaning back in his seat, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. “Unless you’ve got something a little more exciting to offer.”

You pour the coffee without responding, sliding the cup across the counter to him. “This is as exciting as it gets.”

He chuckles, taking the cup and lifting it to his lips. “You say that every time, sweetheart, but I know there’s more to you than you’re letting on.”

You ignore his comment, focusing instead on finishing up your closing tasks. But you can feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze almost tangible. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, and it won’t be the last, but tonight it feels different. There’s an electricity in the air, something that makes your skin prickle and your heart beat just a little faster.

“Why do you keep coming here, Lando?” you ask, more to break the silence than anything else.

He sets his cup down, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Why do you think?”

You meet his gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Because you’re bored?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “No, because I like seeing you. I like the way you pretend you’re not interested.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You’ve been doing your best to keep your distance, to keep him at arm’s length, but he has a way of getting under your skin. Still, you can’t let him know that.

“My shift’s over,” you say, avoiding his eyes as you untie your apron and hang it up behind the counter. “You should go home.”

“So should you,” he says, his tone softening. “But not alone.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you grab your coat from the back. “I’m fine on my own, thanks.”

You don’t wait for his response, don’t even look back at him as you head for the door. You’ve made it clear that you’re not interested, even if that’s not entirely true. Lando is trouble, and you’ve worked too hard to stay out of it.

The cool night air hits you as soon as you step outside, the drizzle turning into a light mist that clings to your hair and clothes. The street is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of a car engine and the soft patter of rain on the pavement. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, your footsteps echoing in the stillness as you start walking down the street.

You’re halfway down the block when you hear it—the low, unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle engine. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is, but you do anyway, your heart sinking slightly as you see Lando pulling up beside you on his sleek black motorcycle. His head is tilted slightly, that ever-present smirk still on his lips as he coasts along the sidewalk at your pace.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the engine.

“No,” you reply curtly, picking up your pace. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he calls after you. “It’s a long walk home, and it’s starting to rain.”

You ignore him, determined to keep walking. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, even if he already knows. But Lando isn’t one to give up easily.

You hear the motorcycle rev slightly as he pulls ahead of you, cutting off your path. You stop abruptly, your breath catching in your throat as he swings off the bike with a fluid grace that makes your heart skip a beat. He steps in front of you, blocking your way, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

“Come on, doll,” he says, his voice low and coaxing. “Let me take you home.”

You shake your head, taking a step back, but the look in his eyes holds you in place. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes you want to give in, to let go of all the reasons why this is a bad idea.

“I don’t need your help,” you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist. His touch is warm, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. “I know you don’t need it,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost tender. “But maybe you want it.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. The rain is starting to fall heavier now, droplets clinging to his hair and sliding down his face. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, something raw and unguarded that makes it impossible to look away.

“Why do you care?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist, “you’re not like the others. And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You want to resist, to tell him to leave you alone, but the words get caught in your throat. You can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way he makes you feel alive in a way that nothing else does. And before you can talk yourself out of it, before you can remind yourself of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you say softly.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he steps back, releasing your wrist. He gestures to the bike, and you hesitate for only a second before stepping forward. The rain is coming down in earnest now, the drops heavy and cold against your skin as you approach the motorcycle.

He hands you the spare helmet, and you take it, slipping it over your head. The leather seat is slick with rain as you swing your leg over the bike, your hands instinctively gripping his jacket as you settle behind him. The engine purrs beneath you, the vibrations humming through your body as he revs it slightly.

“You ready?” he asks, turning his head slightly to glance back at you.

You nod, though he can’t see it with the helmet on. “Yeah.”

With that, he kicks the bike into gear, and you’re off, the motorcycle roaring down the empty street, the rain whipping against your face. You cling to him, your fingers digging into the leather of his jacket as the world blurs around you. The cold night air bites at your skin, but there’s a thrill in it, a sense of freedom that you’ve never felt before.

Lando takes the turns with an ease that speaks of years of experience, the bike leaning just enough to make your heart race. The town flashes by in a blur of lights and shadows, and before you know it, you’re out on the open road, the city behind you.

He doesn’t take you home. Instead, he heads out of town, the road stretching out in front of you, the rain-soaked asphalt glistening in the dim light. The fields on either side of you are dark and endless, the occasional hedgerow or tree flashing by as Lando speeds along the wet road. The sound of the engine is a steady roar in your ears, a low thrum that seems to match the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You should be worried—he hasn’t said a word about where he’s taking you, and you’ve barely known him long enough to trust him with something like this. But there’s something exhilarating about the way he handles the bike, the confidence in his every move, that makes you feel strangely safe despite the reckless speed. It’s as if, for the first time in ages, you’re letting yourself go, allowing the night and the rain and the thrill of the ride to sweep you away.

The rain falls harder now, soaking through your coat and plastering your hair to your face beneath the helmet. The chill seeps into your bones, but it’s dulled by the heat radiating from Lando’s back, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold night air. You hold on tighter, pressing yourself closer to him as the bike hurtles down the road.

Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, Lando begins to slow down. The road narrows, the trees growing thicker and closer together as you turn onto a smaller lane. The headlights cut through the darkness, revealing a small, secluded motel nestled at the edge of the woods. The sign above the door is old and faded, the neon flickering weakly, but the place looks clean and well-kept.

Lando pulls the bike into the gravel car park, coming to a stop near the entrance. The engine cuts off, leaving a ringing silence in its wake, broken only by the patter of rain on the pavement and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. He dismounts first, holding the bike steady as you slide off the seat and remove your helmet.

You stand there for a moment, your heart still racing from the ride, the rain dripping off your clothes and pooling around your feet. You look at Lando, trying to gauge his expression, but his face is shadowed, unreadable in the dim light.

“Why here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away, just watches you with those intense eyes of his, like he’s trying to figure you out. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures towards the motel. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”

You hesitate, every logical part of your brain screaming at you to turn around and walk away. This is dangerous—Lando is dangerous, with his easy charm and his reckless ways. You’ve worked hard to keep your life steady, predictable, and bringing him into it is like inviting chaos. But something holds you back, something that refuses to let you walk away.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, with that mix of mischief and something deeper, something almost vulnerable. Or maybe it’s the thrill of doing something you know you shouldn’t, the excitement of stepping outside the lines you’ve drawn for yourself. Whatever it is, it makes you follow him without another word, the two of you walking side by side towards the motel entrance.

The lobby is small and cosy, the kind of place that hasn’t changed much since it was built, probably a couple of decades ago. The man behind the counter barely glances up as Lando approaches, just slides a key across the counter with a bored expression. It’s clear he’s seen this kind of thing before—young couples looking for a place to escape for the night, away from prying eyes and small-town gossip.

You feel a flutter of nerves as Lando takes the key and leads you down a narrow hallway to one of the rooms. The door creaks slightly as he pushes it open, revealing a modest space with a double bed, a small table with a couple of chairs, and a dresser with a mirror above it. It’s not much, but it’s clean and dry, and after the cold rain outside, it feels almost inviting.

Lando steps inside first, holding the door open for you. You hesitate again, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts—about what you’re doing, what this means, what will happen next. But then you meet his eyes, and all those thoughts seem to scatter like leaves in the wind. There’s something in his gaze that’s both tender and intense, a look that makes your heart pound and your resolve crumble.

You step inside, and the door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both inside the small, warm room. The sound is final, like a decision being made, a line being crossed. Lando turns to face you, his expression unreadable as he watches you standing there, rain-soaked and shivering slightly in the dim light.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice low and gentle, a stark contrast to the way he usually speaks.

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s true. Your heart is racing, your mind a whirlwind of emotions—fear, excitement, anticipation—all tangled together in a way that makes it hard to breathe. But you don’t want to back out now, not after everything that’s led you here.

Lando steps closer, his hands coming up to gently brush your wet hair away from your face. His touch is warm and soft, a tenderness you hadn’t expected. His eyes search yours, as if looking for any sign of hesitation, any reason to stop.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “But I want to.”

It’s the truth, or at least part of it. You’re scared, yes, but you’re also drawn to him in a way you can’t explain. There’s something about Lando that calls to the part of you that’s been buried for so long, the part that craves something more than the quiet, predictable life you’ve built for yourself.

He studies you for a moment longer, as if making sure you really mean it, then nods slightly. His hand slips down to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leads you further into the room. There’s a gentleness in his movements, a care that surprises you, considering his usual devil-may-care attitude.

The rain drums steadily against the window, a constant rhythm that fills the silence between you. Lando’s hand leaves yours as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over one of the chairs before turning his attention back to you. You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach as he steps closer, but it’s mingled with anticipation, a thrill that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find your shoulders, sliding your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every touch, the way his fingers brush against your skin as he helps you out of your wet clothes. There’s an intimacy to it, a quiet care that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You stand there in just your undergarments, the cold air of the room making you shiver, but Lando’s eyes are warm as they trail over you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite name. He takes a step back, his hand reaching out to gently take yours again.

“Come here,” he murmurs, leading you towards the bed.

You follow him, your heart pounding in your chest, the reality of the situation hitting you all at once. This is happening. You’re here, with him, in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, about to cross a line you’ve never crossed before. But there’s no fear, only a deep sense of rightness, like this is where you’re meant to be, in this moment, with him.

Lando sits on the edge of the bed, pulling you gently towards him until you’re standing between his knees. His hands slide up your thighs, resting on your hips as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and full of emotion. He’s always been confident, always in control, but now there’s a vulnerability in his gaze, a quiet question he’s asking without words.

You answer by leaning down, your hands cupping his face as you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters. But it quickly deepens, a hunger igniting between you that has been simmering for weeks. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in the heat of the moment. His hands are everywhere, exploring your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished, like you’re something precious. It’s intense and overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

Time seems to lose meaning as you lose yourselves in each other, the night stretching out as if it were infinite. The rain outside creates a soothing, rhythmic backdrop to your passion, a comforting contrast to the fire burning between you.

Lando’s kisses are insistent, devouring, yet he moves with care, as if he’s memorising every inch of you. His touch, though firm, is never rough, always just right, and you melt into him, feeling like you’re discovering parts of yourself you never knew existed. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds himself back slightly, as though he’s afraid of rushing, afraid of breaking whatever fragile connection has formed between you.

Your fingers slide through his damp hair, tugging slightly, and a low groan escapes his lips. It sends a thrill through you, emboldening you to press closer, your body flush against his. He shifts, pulling you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. The sensation of being held by him, feeling his strength beneath your touch, is intoxicating.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts, his chest rising and falling against yours. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but softened by something more—something that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough with restraint, the words a mere whisper in the small space between you.

You nod, not trusting your voice to convey the depth of your certainty. There’s no room for doubt in your mind. Being with him, here, now, feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you’ve been waiting your whole life for this moment. For him.

He studies your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but when he finds none, his expression shifts from questioning to resolute. His hands, which had been resting on your hips, slide up your back, pulling you even closer as he captures your lips again. This kiss is different, filled with the unspoken promise of what’s to come, a promise that you’re both eager to fulfil.

Without breaking the kiss, Lando shifts his weight, turning and laying you gently on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he hovers over you, his gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment of stillness, a shared breath, and then he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming your body with a purpose that makes you shiver in anticipation.

Every touch, every caress, is like a match struck against stone, igniting a flame that consumes you both. He moves with a slow, deliberate pace, savouring each moment, each gasp and sigh that escapes your lips. It’s as if he wants to remember every second, to carve this night into his memory as something sacred.

The room is warm, the heat from your bodies chasing away the chill of the night. Your hands map out the contours of his muscles, the smooth lines of his body, as you pull him closer, wanting more of him, needing to feel him everywhere. He responds in kind, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, as if he’s worshipping every inch of you.

When he finally moves to remove the last barriers between you, there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s a natural progression, a culmination of everything that’s been building between you since the first time he walked into the diner and looked at you with those piercing eyes. There’s a shared understanding, an unspoken agreement that this is where you were always meant to end up—together.

The first moment of true connection is almost overwhelming in its intensity. It’s more than just physical; it’s as if every wall you’ve ever built around yourself crumbles in an instant, leaving you exposed, vulnerable, but not afraid. There’s no fear, only a deep, bone-deep sense of rightness, of finally finding the place where you belong.

Lando moves with a rhythm that’s both tender and powerful, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you that build and build until you think you might shatter from the sheer force of it. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a plea, and he answers with a low, guttural groan that reverberates through your entire being.

The world narrows down to the two of you, the feel of him inside you, the way he whispers your name like it’s the only thing that matters. Time loses all meaning as you’re swept away by the tidal wave of sensation, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, a dance as old as time itself.

When the wave finally crashes over you, it’s with a force that leaves you breathless, clinging to him as the pleasure shudders through you, leaving you trembling in its wake. He follows soon after, his body tensing, his breath hot against your skin as he finds his own release. The feeling of him coming undone with you, because of you, is almost too much to bear.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, your bodies still entwined, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. The only sounds are the rain tapping lightly against the window and the soft, shared breaths filling the space between you. Lando’s weight is comforting, grounding, and you don’t want him to move, don’t want this moment to end.

He lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if he’s looking for reassurance that you’re still here with him, that this wasn’t some fleeting dream. You offer him a small, tired smile, your fingers brushing through his sweat-dampened hair.

“That was…” he starts, but trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

You understand, though. You feel it too—this connection, this sense of something more between you. It’s more than just a one-time thing; it’s like you’ve found something precious, something you weren’t even sure you were looking for.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your voice soft but filled with conviction. “It was.”

He smiles then, a genuine smile that lights up his whole face, making him look almost boyish in his joy. It’s a smile that makes your heart skip a beat, that fills you with warmth and hope.

Lando rolls onto his side, pulling you with him so that you’re curled up against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. You can feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your cheek, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a sense of peace.

For a while, you just lie there, basking in the afterglow, the silence between you comfortable and easy. The storm outside seems to have calmed, the rain now a gentle drizzle, almost soothing as it patters against the window.

But as the euphoria of the moment fades, reality starts to creep back in, bringing with it the questions and doubts that you’d managed to push aside in the heat of the moment. What happens now? What does this mean for you, for him, for the two of you together?

You shift slightly, tilting your head to look up at him. “Lando?”

He hums in response, his eyes closed, his face relaxed in a way you’ve rarely seen.

“What happens now?” you ask, your voice small, almost afraid to break the spell.

He opens his eyes, blinking down at you, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe? But it’s quickly replaced by a look of determination, of resolve.

“Now,” he says, his voice firm but gentle, “we figure it out.”

You nod, wanting to believe him, wanting to hold onto this feeling for as long as you can. But the doubts are still there, lurking at the edges of your mind.

“Are you sure?” you ask, needing to hear him say it, needing to know that this isn’t just a fleeting moment, that it means as much to him as it does to you.

He pulls you closer, his arms tightening around you, his gaze steady and sincere. “I’m sure,” he says, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I don’t know what this is, but I know it’s something real. And I don’t want to lose it.”

The sincerity in his words, in his eyes, soothes the lingering doubts in your mind. You rest your head against his chest again, closing your eyes and letting his steady heartbeat calm you.

“Okay,” you whisper, a sense of peace settling over you.

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment, and you feel his smile against your hair.

You stay like that for a long time, just holding each other, content in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The world outside might be complicated, full of uncertainties and challenges, but in this room, in each other’s arms, there’s only warmth, safety, and the promise of something more.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the night catches up with you, your eyes growing heavy as sleep begins to pull you under. Lando’s presence is a comforting anchor, his arms around you a safe haven that you don’t want to leave. As you drift off, the last thing you’re aware of is the steady rhythm of his breathing, a lullaby that carries you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

When you wake, it’s to the soft light of dawn filtering through the thin curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. For a moment, you’re disoriented, the events of the night before hazy and surreal in your sleep-fogged mind. But then you feel the warmth beside you, the steady rise and fall of Lando’s chest beneath your cheek, and everything comes rushing back.

You lift your head slightly, taking in the sight of him asleep beside you. His face is relaxed, peaceful in a way that makes him seem younger, almost boyish. The morning light softens his features, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his dark lashes fan out against his cheeks. He looks so different from the cocky, self-assured boy who strides into the diner every evening, his swaggering confidence replaced by something gentler, more vulnerable.

For a moment, you just watch him, your heart swelling with an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. It’s strange, how quickly things have changed between you, how one night can alter the course of your life so drastically. But as you lie there, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, you can’t find it in yourself to regret anything that’s happened.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake him as you slip out of bed. The cool air of the room hits your bare skin, making you shiver as you pull on the discarded shirt from the night before. It smells faintly of him, a comforting scent that makes you smile as you button it up.

Quietly, you pad over to the window, pulling the curtain back slightly to peer outside. The rain has stopped, leaving the world fresh and clean, the grass glistening with morning dew. The sky is a soft blue, streaked with the pink and gold of the rising sun. It’s a beautiful morning, the kind that makes everything seem possible, like the whole world is brimming with promise.

But as you stand there, the doubts start to creep back in. What happens now? The question lingers in your mind, refusing to be silenced. Last night was incredible, a perfect moment in time, but what about today? What about tomorrow? You and Lando come from such different worlds—how can this possibly work in the long run?

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear him stir until his arms slip around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “What are you thinking about?”

You sigh, leaning back into his embrace. “Just… wondering what happens now.”

His hold tightens slightly, as if he’s afraid you’re going to slip away. “We talked about this last night, remember? We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, but…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It’s just—everything’s so different in the daylight. Last night felt like a dream, like we were in our own little world. But now…” You trail off, unsure how to articulate the anxiety gnawing at you.

Lando is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought as he follows your gaze out the window. Finally, he turns you around to face him, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly, waiting until you meet his eyes. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still here, and so are you. We can make this work.”

“But how?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “We barely know each other. What if… what if this doesn’t last? What if it all falls apart?”

He studies you for a moment, his expression serious. “Do you really believe that?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared, Lando. I’m scared of what happens if we try and it doesn’t work. I don’t want to lose… whatever this is.”

He sighs, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “I’m scared too, if I’m honest. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. But that’s why we have to try, yeah? Because it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

The sincerity in his voice, in his eyes, makes your heart skip a beat. He’s right, of course. You know he is. You’ve spent so much time playing it safe, keeping yourself hidden away, that the idea of something real, something that could actually mean something, terrifies you. But it’s also what you’ve been longing for—someone to break through the walls you’ve built around yourself, to show you that there’s more to life than just getting by.

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly as you try to push past the fear. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I’m not giving up on this. Not on you.”

His words wrap around you like a warm blanket, soothing the anxiety that’s been simmering beneath the surface. Maybe it won’t be easy, maybe there will be challenges you can’t even foresee yet, but standing here in his arms, you feel like maybe, just maybe, it’s worth the risk.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to hope. To believe that things might actually work out.

After a while, he gently nudges you towards the bed. “Come on, let’s get some more sleep,” he suggests, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep.

But you shake your head, smiling up at him. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you say, feeling a strange surge of determination. “Let’s not waste it.”

He chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Always so practical,” he teases, though there’s a fondness in his tone that makes your heart flutter. “Alright, let’s get dressed. But I’m warning you, I’m taking you out for breakfast. Proper breakfast, not just coffee at the diner.”

The mention of the diner brings you back to reality, the thought of going back to your usual routine, of facing the world outside this room, suddenly feeling daunting. But Lando’s easy smile and the warmth in his eyes give you the courage you need to take that first step.

You both dress in comfortable silence, the weight of what’s to come hanging between you, but there’s no sense of dread, only a quiet resolve. Once you’re both ready, Lando grabs his jacket, offering you a lopsided grin as he swings it over his shoulder.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice light but his eyes serious.

You take a deep breath, nodding as you take his hand. “Ready.”

Together, you step out of the motel room, the morning sun casting long shadows on the gravel beneath your feet. The world outside feels different now, not quite as daunting, not quite as overwhelming. With Lando beside you, his hand warm in yours, you feel like you can face whatever comes your way.

As you walk towards the motorcycle, you glance up at him, a question forming in your mind. “So, where are we going?”

He grins, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-amused, half-curious. “Another one of your surprises, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Nah,” he says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “Trust me, you’ll like this one.”

And strangely enough, you do trust him. Maybe that’s the most surprising thing of all—how quickly you’ve come to rely on him, to feel safe with him, even though he’s nothing like the kind of person you’d ever imagined yourself with.

But life has a funny way of surprising you, of taking you down paths you never expected. And as you climb onto the back of his motorcycle, wrapping your arms around his waist, you realise that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found exactly what you didn’t even know you were looking for.

The engine roars to life beneath you, and with a thrill of anticipation, you hold on tight as Lando pulls out of the car park and onto the open road. The wind rushes past, the world blurring around you, but you don’t feel lost anymore. You’re heading into the unknown, yes, but you’re not alone.

As you ride through the countryside, the morning sun rising higher in the sky, casting everything in a golden light, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges you face, you know you’ll figure it out—together.

And that, you think, might just be enough.

Lando’s voice cuts through the wind, loud enough for you to hear over the roar of the engine. “You alright back there?”

You lean forward, resting your chin on his shoulder, and smile. “I’m perfect.”

He laughs, a sound that’s full of life, full of promise, and you feel it resonate deep within you. This is just the beginning, you realise. The start of something new, something real. Something that could change everything.

As the miles stretch out before you, the road winding through the countryside, you hold on tight to Lando, to the future that’s waiting for you just beyond the horizon. It’s a future you never expected, with a boy you never imagined would mean so much to you.

But it’s yours now, and you’re ready to embrace it with open arms.

The open road lies ahead, and with Lando by your side, you’re finally ready to see where it leads.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris drabble #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #formula one x reader

784 notes · View notes

awkward-walking-potato · 2 months

Note

I’m obsessed with how you write for Logan, like it’s becoming an addiction at this point. Maybe after a hard week for reader and for Logan, they finally get some time together. So Logan puts on some slow music from the 40s/50s and pulls reader into the kitchen of the apartment to slow dance together. So they just hold each other, maybe discuss some things, or get kind of vulnerable with each other. And it’s just cute and sweet. And then from the living room Wade speaks up, breaking their perfect moment together because let’s be honest, it’s Wade. I love your writing sooooooo much. Thank you🤍

Dancing in the Kitchen

The apartment was quiet, a rarity these days. The week had been long—brutal even. Missions, confrontations, sleepless nights—both you and Logan had been worn thin by the constant demands of a world that never seemed to give either of you a break.

But tonight, the world was far away. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed low. The only sound was the steady hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your feet. You leaned against the kitchen counter, letting out a deep breath. The weight of the past days still clung to you like a heavy coat, but at least here, in this small space with Logan, you felt some semblance of peace.

Logan appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, and you couldn’t help but smile. His usual scowl was softened, the lines of his face more relaxed than you’d seen in days. He held up an old vinyl record, its cover worn but still intact, and nodded toward the living room.

“Thought we could use a little music,” he said, his gruff voice tinged with a warmth that made your heart swell.

You nodded, watching as he moved to the old record player he’d insisted on keeping despite its age. The needle dropped, and soon the soft crackle of the record filled the air, followed by the smooth, crooning voice of a singer from long ago. The melody was slow, languid, like honey dripping from a spoon, sweet and comforting.

Logan turned back to you, holding out his hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s dance.”

You hesitated for only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm, but gentle as he pulled you into the center of the kitchen. There wasn’t much room, but it didn’t matter. In fact, it felt more intimate this way, with the small space making you press closer to him.

Logan’s other hand settled on your waist, and you looped your arm around his neck, your fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape. For a few seconds, neither of you moved, just swayed slightly to the rhythm of the music, finding a comfortable sync.

“I miss this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you began to move slowly, your bodies swaying in time with the music. There was something almost magical about it, the way the world seemed to fade away until it was just the two of you in this moment. The tension that had been coiled tight in your chest started to loosen, and you found yourself resting your head against Logan’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You’ve been holdin’ up okay?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling through his chest and into your ear.

You sighed, a little shakier than you intended. “It’s been hard. I feel like I’m running on fumes.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I know the feelin’. But you’re doin’ better than you think. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, finding them softer than usual. “You really think so?”

“Hell yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “You’ve been through worse, and you’ve come out on top every time. This week’s just another bump in the road.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the music or the closeness. Logan didn’t dole out compliments often, but when he did, you knew he meant every word. It was one of the things you loved most about him—his unwavering honesty.

“Thanks, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, darlin’.”

For a while, you both just danced, the music wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You could feel Logan’s breath on your hair, his strong, calloused hand still holding yours firmly, like he was afraid to let go. And for the first time in days, you felt safe, like everything might just be okay.

But then, as if the universe couldn’t resist ruining the moment, you heard a loud, exaggerated sniffle from the living room.

“Oh my God, you guys are so cute, it’s making me nauseous!” Wade’s voice broke through the serene atmosphere, full of dramatic flair. “Seriously, I’m over here trying to watch a movie, and it’s like a Hallmark commercial in there!”

Logan stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible to be mad at Wade when he was just being his usual self. You turned your head to see him sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth.

“Wade,” Logan growled, though there was more exasperation than anger in his tone.

“What? Don’t look at me like that, Wolvie! I’m just appreciating the domestic bliss you two have got going on here. It’s inspiring. I might even write a poem about it later. ‘Ode to the Mutants Who Dance in the Kitchen’—has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Wade, do you ever stop talking?”

“Not unless I’m unconscious, which, thanks to this wonderful healing factor of mine, is pretty rare,” Wade shot back, grinning cheekily.

Logan sighed, shaking his head, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible, Wilson.”

“And you love me for it,” Wade replied, throwing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in his mouth.

You turned back to Logan, the moment interrupted but not entirely lost. You gave him a small smile, your hand squeezing his gently. “We can always try again later.”

Logan nodded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will. And this time, I’m lockin’ the door.”

Wade’s voice piped up again from the living room. “Locking the door won’t keep me out, Honey Badger! I’m like Santa Claus, I’ll find a way in!”

You and Logan both laughed, the tension of the week finally melting away completely. Maybe the moment wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—and that made it better than anything else.

#wolverine one shot #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #deadpool imagine #x men imagine

437 notes · View notes

hughes86-43 · 6 months

Text

“Wifey” | J.Hughes

warnings - none! just some grammar mistakes!

The off-season had just started a little over two weeks ago, with everything from getting stuffed packed to trying to get everyone in at the same time, you and Jack were finally able to get everybody around for an end of season party at the lake house.

That morning you got everything ready for the day with getting the food that was being catered that day correct to Jack setting up extra table and chairs with Quinn and Luke. You easily had at least 50 people coming tonight. With family members coming and everyone’s friends coming, you had to make sure everything was perfect.

Ellen and Jim arrived earlier in the day to help set everything up. It was around 5pm, when several people began showing up. Trevor, Cole, and Alex showed up with extra beer and wine. Your parents and brothers showed up closely after. Soon enough, there a good mixture of your family and friends and a bunch of hockey players that the guys knew were around and that were their friends.

You were sitting on Jack’s lap in the backyard talking to Trevor, Cole and Alex. Jack has his arms wrapped around your waist and playing with a loose string on your crop top. You had one hand wrapped around his neck while also drinking a few sips of your beer with the other.

“Dude! I had no idea the lady was even right there! I just bumped right into her!” Trevor says while recounting a story about how he accidentally bumped into a lady causing her to spill her drink everywhere.

Cole’s laughing at him. “Did you at least pay to get her another drink?!”

“Yeah, yeah I did. Although, she could’ve at least said she was behind me so I didn’t bump into her!” The whole situation has you and Jack in a complete laughing fit.

Trying to catch your breath, you say, “Or she recognized you and planned it all along so that she could talk to you!” Trevor all of a sudden gets wide eyed which causes the boys to laugh even more.

“You know, I think you’re right! She kept looking at me up and down like she was checking me out!”

“Trev, you were literally wearing the weirdest outfit combination…. Sweatpants with your suit jacket and a button up shirt!” Cole says, causing even more laughter.

Deciding that you needed to check on everyone else to see if they were okay, you get up off of your boyfriends lap. He gives you a pouty face as you do. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back I just want to check up on everyone else and also use the bathroom.” You run your hand through his hair.

He gives you a nod and squeeze to your thigh. “Okay, just don’t be long! I can only be around Trevor for so long!”

“Hey!”

“Oh, you know I only joke!” Jack says to a pouty Trevor. “She’s my wife, of course I’d want her around more than you!” You just laugh and tousle his hair again when he calls you that.

“She’s not your wife yet! You two aren’t even engaged.” Trevor says trying to lift his feelings up.

“Well, she will be soon enough! We live together, we may as well be married!”

“Okay, boys,” You say trying to calm them down. “You two continue arguing, Cole and Alex I expect you two to stop them from fighting, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Let me know if you need me, wifey!” Jack says with a smirk, while also turning to see Trevor’s reaction. He just shakes his head.

You couldn’t help but to laugh to yourself as you walk into the house to talk to everyone.

While your gone, Trevor and Jack have stopped arguing for a bit.

Trevor asks Jack, “So, you’re going to ask her to marry you, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I asked her dad earlier tonight while she was busy. It seemed like the perfect time to ask him since everyone is here and she wouldn’t notice. I have the ring hid in the back of my closet under some hockey stuff.”

The boys are smiling so big at him. “She’s definitely the one for you Jacky.” Cole says while patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s the only that has ever laughed at your jokes, even when they’re so bad!” Alex jokes.

“Oh, shush! Just don’t say anything or be suspicious about it. I still don’t know when I’ll fully ask.”

“Ask what?” You say when you made your way back onto Jack’s lap.

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he smiles, “Oh, just when I’m going to ask Luke if he has a crush on that one girl he has been talking to.” He hopes he played that off well.

“Oh yeah! He’s totally into her, you should see them inside!” Seeing that he played it off well, he lets out a breath and lays his head on your shoulder, laughing at your story of Luke and his seemingly new crush inside.

#jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #hockey fic #my fics

599 notes · View notes

sturnlovaa · 10 days

Text

°•. IMAGINE — Christopher Sturniolo prying on you while you’re bartending.

cw.. prying, (lowkey) sexualizing, unprotected p n v, mentions of alcohol intake, small argument, established relationship.

💌: i hit 500! soooo 500 special! tysm, especially with how inactive i can get. i appreciate all of you.

as you walked by, Chris' gaze lingers on you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your bartender uniform. he’s a regular at the bar, but tonight, he seems particularly attentive. he wasn’t that much of a stranger to you, anyways..

as you lean over the bar to pour a drink for another patron, his breath hitches slightly, his eyes fixed on the way your shirt stretches across your back. he takes a sip of his own drink, his grip tightening around the glass as he watches you.

he couldn’t help but think that you may be cold, from the lack of clothing you actually wore, it only being in the high 50’s just outside the building. low 70’s in the walls, if that.

he sets his drink down and stands up, his tall frame towering over the bar as he approaches you. he leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're looking particularly lovely tonight," he says, his voice low and confident.

you flash him a quick, teasing smile as you turn to grab a shaker. "is that so?" you reply, your voice nonchalant as you start mixing a drink for the waiting customer. your eyes dart back to him, noting the way his jaw is set, his posture relaxed yet predatory.

"mhm," he murmurs, his gaze flicking down to where your apron ties around your waist. "and you know what i like about this place?"

you pause, the shaker halfway to the pouring station, and raise an eyebrow at him. "what's that?" you ask, your tone mockingly innocent.

his smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "the view," he says, his gaze slowly trailing up from your hips, over your breasts, to finally meet your eyes. "it's exceptional,"

you roll your eyes playfully, pouring the drink and sliding it to the waiting customer. "flirt," you murmur under your breath, but your smile gives you away. as the customer pays and leaves, you turn your attention back to Chris.

"alright, alright," you say, setting the shaker down and wiping your hands on a towel. "you've had your fun. what can I get for you?" you ask, leaning against the counter across from him, your arms folded underneath your breasts.

his eyes flick down to your cleavage for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again, "i'll have another bourbon," he says, his voice smooth. "neat. and maybe.. a chance to take you out after your shift?"

you bite your lower lip, tilting your head to the side. "take me where?" you ask, your voice soft. you know exactly what he means, but you love making him spell it out.

he grin turns wolfish, his pupils dilated with desire. "out," he says. "on a date. dinner, maybe. or we could skip the formalities and go straight to my place.." his voice lowers an octave, becoming a velvety purr.

you press your lips together, suppressing a smile. you like the way he looks at you, all hungry and intense. "my shift ends at 10," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. "if you can pick me up by then, i might consider it,"

he nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "i'll be here," he promises. "10 sharp," he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, standing up and tossing a few bills on the counter. "see you later, beautiful,"

later that night, his hands are tight around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him. the room is filled with the sounds of your moans, his grunts, and the slick, rhythmic sounds of your bodies coming together.

your back arches, your head thrown back against his shoulder, hair cascading down. "Chris..." you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. he growls in response, his arms wrapping around you, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast, the other snaking down to rub tight circles on your core.

his hot breath is on your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he thrusts into you again and again. the room spins, the bed creaks, and your fingers scrabble at the sheets, finding no purchase as you're washed away in a tidal wave of sensation. "come for me,"

you jolt awake, your heart racing, chest heaving. it takes you a moment to realize where you are — your bed. the dream is still vivid in your mind, and you can feel the lingering ache between your legs.

you blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light, and that's when you notice - you're not alone. you’re naked, the sheets tangled around your waist, and there's another body in your bed. a warm, bare arm is slung over your middle, a light thigh hiked over yours.

your breath catches in your throat as you slowly turn your head to the side. he is asleep next to you, his face relaxed, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. last night comes rushing back — the drinks, the laughter, the way he looked at you.. and the things he did to you.

you carefully extract yourself from his arm, not wanting to wake him, and sit up on the edge of the bed. you scan the room until your eyes land on your phone on the nightstand. you pick it up, squinting at the time on the screen - 6:47 AM.

you rub your eyes, yawning. it's early, but you're wide awake now. you glance back at him, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. you tiptoe to the bathroom, grabbing a robe on the way.

you've just tied your robe when you hear him stir behind you. "where are you going?" he mumbles, his voice gravelly with sleep. the sheets rustle as he sits up, the movement stark against the early morning stillness.

you turn to face him, pulling the tie of your robe a little tighter. "you gotta stop showing up at the bar," you say, echoing your words from the last time this happened. which was, what? a month ago? you’ve lost track.

"mmm.." Chris rubs at his eyes, pushing his mussed hair back. "why's that?" he looks at you expectantly, his gaze dropping to where your robe gapes slightly, revealing a tantalizing hint of skin.

you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "because every time you do, it ends with us in bed together, and I can't keep doing this," you say, trying to sound stern despite the warmth spreading through your chest at his sleepy, disheveled state.

he leans against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his waist. "and what's so wrong with that?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "i mean, the sex is good, right?" his gaze is challenging, confident. he knows it is. you know it is.

you roll your eyes, even as a flutter stirs in your stomach. "the sex is great, but that's not the point," you insist, trying to maintain your composure. "the point is, we can't keep doing this on a whim every time you're feeling lonely or bored,"

"lonely or bored?" he parrots, his brows furrowing. he swings his legs out of bed, standing up with an ease that's almost graceful. "is that what you think i am? some lonely, bored guy who just.. what? needed a warm body last night?"

he steps closer, his voice lowering. "because if that's what you think, then you clearly don't know me as well as i thought you did," he's right in front of you now, tall and bare and bristling with quiet intensity. you swallow hard, your resolve wavering.

"i.. i just meant.." you stammer, taken aback. Yyou're not used to seeing him like this — intense, almost hurt. you're more used to his easy smiles, his laid-back charm. "i didn't mean.. that's not.." you trail off, at a loss for words.

"let me make it clear, then," he says, his voice low. he reaches out, gently curling his fingers around yours where they clutch at your robe.

"when i come to your bar, it's because i like seeing you. talking to you. being around you. and yes, the fact that we end up in bed together is.. a very welcome bonus," his thumb strokes over your hand, his touch gentle despite the fervor in his voice.

"but it's not just about the sex, okay? it's about us. and I think you know that. so either you start treating our time together with a little more respect, or.." he lets the sentence hang, his gaze searching yours.

"or what?" you prompt softly, your heart pounding in your chest. his words have shaken you. you realize that he's right — you've been dismissing whatever this is between you both as just physical, when it's been so much more all along.

"or we stop tiptoeing around this," he says, releasing your hand to cup your face. his palm is warm against your skin. "and we start dating. for real. no more bar hookups, no more waking up and having 'the talk'. just.. you and me. together,"

his eyes are fixed on yours, his expression open, expectant. you're silent, his words sinking in. he's right. you've both been dancing around this for months now. and suddenly, it feels silly to keep pretending like it's not happening.

"okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible. a small smile spreads across his face, slow and satisfied. "okay?" he repeats, leaning in closer. "so, we're dating now? for real?" his thumb traces your bottom lip, his touch gentle.

"yes," you breathe, leaning into his touch. "for real,"

©sturnlovaa

— tags

@shadowthesim , @ifwdominicfike , @sturniolo04 , @mattsdolll , @sturncakez , @jetaimevous , @biiatrizzz , @blahblogs-stuff , @chlotapcs , @poolover123 , @55sturn , @franticroads , @brvtall , @gwennybenny .

#christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut #e writes ౨ৎ #sturnlovaa

172 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 1 year

Text

Training Day

Summary: you ask Azriel to help you demonstrate some moves for training and it very quickly changes things

Author’s note: yeah this one just took on a life of it’s own I guess? Anyway, it’s lots of fun

“Can I use you tomorrow during the demonstration?”

Azriel looks up from his paperwork. The two of you were working in the library, a place you find yourselves most nights. You both enjoy working simultaneously - whether you both have paperwork, research, or personal reading. Most nights were spent on a secluded floor of the library. You two are down here so frequently, Clotho has stopped asking you to return the furniture the way it was, just allowing you two to use this space as your own sanctuary.

“I need a body to use when I’m showing the girls how to defend against an opponent,” you elaborate, and Azriel can’t help but notice a faint blush across your cheeks.

Azriel chuckles, but nods. He can’t say no to helping the priestesses, and he certainly can’t say no to you.

You two return to your previous attentions - you to your book, and him to his paperwork, which he finds much less interesting than you.

It started by the two of you using a table and chairs to work, but you had complained about reading for so long in the chair, that you rearranged the furniture so a table was pulled up to the couch you two are sitting on.

These nights started with you two across the table from each other, and tonight Azriel feels your toes pressing against his thigh, trying to form an entrance underneath his leg. You two now sit on the same couch, more often than not touching in some small capacity. The most recent nights start with you toeing your feet against his thigh, until he eventually grabs legs, sliding you down the couch, and placing your legs across his lap, draping his arms over them. When he’s feeling extra bold, or extra sleepy, he finds himself drawing patterns on your calves with his hands.

“Goooood morning!” You chirp to the priestesses, Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel. Azriel left the morning part of training early to bring you up for your demonstration and to talk to the preistesses and Nesta.

They all looked tired and out of breath, no doubt due to Cassian’s training.

“You can all sit for my demonstration. That way I become your favorite teacher.” You smile, eliciting a huff from Cassian.

“First, I want to say that while Cassian and Azriel are great teachers, there is one aspect to training that they cannot grasp. They do not understand what it’s like to be smaller than most of your enemies, to be at least 50 pounds lighter than most of your opponents.” You glance around, and the priestesses seem to be receptive, so you continue.

“Which is why I’m here. Cassian can spend 100 years teaching you proper balance, proper techniques, proper stances. But those things mean nothing if you cannot contextualize what you need to take down an opponent.”

“So today, we’ll be doing a little walkthrough of a fight. My opponent will be Azriel. The goal for today is for us to walk through, step by step, of a fight, and win. So, let’s start by thinking: what are some things that I need to think about when I’m facing Azriel. We don’t know anything about him, we don’t know who he is. We know what we can see, sans shadows. Most opponents won’t have control over shadows, so I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sit the demonstration out.”

With that, his shadows retreat, looking as if they too were looking to sit and watch the demonstration. Azriel doesn’t think about the fact that he didn’t tell them to leave, that they listened to you, not even seeking his approval for the command.

“So, what do I notice about my opponent?”

Gwyn speaks up, “he’s much taller than you.”

Another priestess speaks up, “he’s unarmed.”

“He has wings.” “He’s wearing protective leathers.”

You interrupt them. “All good observations. He’s bigger than I am, unarmed, but protected. These are all important notes when facing an opponent. So, what should I do first?”

Someone immediately yells, “kick him!” You’re pretty sure it was Cassian, but you let it slide. “Where am I aiming my kick?” You ask to the crowd. “His head!” You hear Nesta call back.

“Do we think that is the best course of action?” They all nod, you’re unsure if it’s just because they want to watch you kick their teacher, but you swing your leg out, aiming for his head, holding it right next to him when you ask, “why would this not be the best tactic for me?”

There’s a pause, then Emerie speaks up, “your foot won’t make contact with his head.”

While still holding your leg in the air, mere centimeters from his face, you pull a small chocolate from your pocket and throw it to Emerie. “Correct! I can’t make perfect contact, is there any other problem?”

Gwyn yells out, “you’re vulnerable to be pushed!” You throw another chocolate. “Excellent! Yes, since all my weight is on one leg, he could easily” you prompt, alerting Azriel to his next move. He simply pushes you a little, making you lose balance, “make me lose my footing.”

You stand back up and brush the dirt off.

“If I’m going to execute a move that leaves me vulnerable, I need to be very sure that I can execute it. My legs are not long enough to do so. And our opponents will not stoop down so I can attack them.”

Azriel crouches just a smidge, where if your leg were still in the air you’d be able to connect it to his face.

“When the odds are against you in a fight, you need to even the playing field. Do anything you can to subdue your enemy. A tactic I use frequently is messing with their senses. May I?” You ask Azriel. He nods, curious where this is going.

“My height might be considered a disadvantage, but it allows me to move faster and with more ease than larger opponents like Cassian.”

He rolls his eyes, ready to retort back, but you’ve started talking again. “Showing this in slow mo won’t give you a great idea, and it’s a bit more difficult to do, but here’s what I do. I use my opponents height to their disadvantage.

You plant your right foot on his left thigh. “What do small creatures do? They climb. So I plant one foot on a thigh, and use momentum to swing my other leg onto their shoulder.” As you say this, you swing your left leg over his right shoulder, him holding your right leg planted on his leg so you can move.

“from here, I have one leg secured to a shoulder, so I use that planting to bring up my other leg,” doing as you say, bringing your right leg onto his other shoulder, your legs holding onto his shoulders.

Azriel can’t breathe with you so close to him like this. Do you have any idea the effect this is having on him? How close you are to his face, to his mouth? He’s dreamed of having you like this, pressing you into a wall while he devours you like it’s his last meal.

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, reminding him of where he is. “From here, I bring both of my fists out wide, gaining as much speed as I can before coming down on my opponent’s ears. This impact will leave their ears ringing, and could disrupt their balance if done hard enough.” You mime the motion, but only lightly hit his ears.

“Then I grab their face,” you say, holding the right side of his jaw, “and I smash my palm as hard as I can into their nose.”

Azriel knew you weren’t going to, but he could think of no better way to go than at your hands while your legs are wrapped around his neck.

You start to uncoil yourself from him, and it takes all of his self control to help you get your feet back on the ground. You start explaining why jabbing a palm through a nose is a good idea. The priestesses didn’t seem to think anything of you being on top of him like that, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cassian’s shit eating grin. He glances in his brother’s direction, wanting him to knock it off before he scares off their trainees, but Cassian mouths the words “loverboy” to him, while kissing the air, before pretending he was paying attention to you the whole time.

Your demonstration goes on for a bit longer, you and Azriel having a pseudofight that the priestesses eventually walk you through how to win. You have him pinned to the ground, and their cheers are so loud you’d think you had slain a dragon instead of taking him down.

You’re positively glowing at their praise, and the fact that this method of teaching actually worked. Before he could grow too accustomed to your weight on his chest, you get off of him, offering a hand to help him up, which he gladly accepts.

“Thank you for letting me beat you up today,” you giggle, as the priestesses start heading back toward the library, leaving you and Azriel behind.

He laughs, thinking about his next words, “how could anyone say no to letting you straddle their face and pinning them down?”

Your cheeks are on fire. The two of you were something, you just didn’t know what. On top of spending most days together, you two flirted constantly, once prompting Feyre to throw you in a cold fountain to cool you off.

But flirting was words, and these words were based in real actions you took. Sure it was to show the priestesses some defense moves, and maybe you had some ulterior motives, but you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy seeing his face between your legs, even if you two were fully clothed in a self-defense seminar.

You were done with flirting that led nowhere, and before you can think about them the words are out of your mouth, “so if I asked you to do it again, with less witnesses and less clothing?”

You physically watch him shudder, at first you’re afraid you went too far, but then he leans down into your ear and whispers, “don’t make offers if you don’t want to follow through.”

You two have been dancing around whatever is between you two for too long, you think. The gentle nights spent in the library, the constant flirting. You spend more time with him than anyone. You’re terrified to move forward, but then you meet his eyes.

They’re full of lust, yes, but there’s an incredible warmth there. A softness, reserved just for you. He always looks at you with delicacy, as if you held his world and too harsh of a stare would break you.

You grab his neck, pulling him down to you as you kiss him. The first thing you feel is his wings wrapping around you, providing you privacy from the world, even though you’re alone in the training area.

Your hands clutch at his face, and your lips cover his, moving in tandem, as if your lips have found the place they belong.

His hands grab your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You’re so caught up in the kiss and the heat of it that you don’t even realize he winnowed you two into his room.

You hardly take note of the room, just taking in his smell, his taste, his warmth. You’re not sure how long you guys are kissing, thinking of nothing but the way his hands feel holding you, amazed you two are still wearing any clothes, let alone being fully dressed, when you hear a cough.

You two break away very reluctantly, to see a very smug Cassian standing ten feet away.

“You,” he points directly to you, “owe me $50. Pay up.”

“Now?” You ask incredulously, your hair moving as you whip your head to glare at the intruder.

“Yes, now. It’s my money, and I earned it fair and square.”

Azriel’s confusion shown all over his face, you covered your face in your hands while Cassian says, “I bet her $50 that if she had you help with her demonstration and got on your shoulders like that, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself.”

“I- um - I didn’t know how to make the first move,” you say meekly, “and he seemed so sure of this working.”

You were so concerned he’d be mad that you manipulated this situation, but Azriel, while still holding you, tells Cassian, “I’ll give you $100 if you leave and don’t let anyone disturb us for a week.”

Cassian, always ready to make a quick buck, quickly agrees and scuttles out of the room, closing the door on his way.

“How do you go from not knowing how to make the first move to doing that?” Azriel asks, amusement shining on his face.

“Well, I thought my shameless flirting wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I had to take more drastic measures.”

He roars in laughter, and you can feel the vibrations through his chest. “You’ve always had my attention,” he says, looking at you the way a predator would, “but now you have my undivided attention. And I just paid a hefty fee to get us some time away from everyone.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you giggle, holding onto him tighter, “oh no, a whole week with no distractions, whatever shall we do?” You ask, trying to sound distressed, but your giggles give you away.

“I think I stopped paying attention during your presentation, do you want to remind me again about depriving your opponent of their senses with your legs?”

You throw your head back in laughter, and he tilts your head down to capture your laugh in his kiss.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #honestly I thought this was just precious

872 notes · View notes

joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

Text

Beach Daddy VI. One Last Time

bfd!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist masterlist

wordcount: 13,941

summary: you find yourself in Joel's arms once more, torn between the love you share and the dreams that pull you apart.

warnings: 18+, age gap, finally finally unprotected p in v, some cute stuff goin on here, uses of the names darlin and babygirl, this involved a lot of me going "ahhhh" and "whyyy" and then "yesss" I didn't leave you with a mean cliffhanger this time.

notes: thank you to everyone for your love on this fic, I truly never thought this would be as loved as it is <3 I can't thank you guys enough for your support and the likes, comments and reblogs. Truly you guys have made this that much more fun to write. AND thank you to everyone who has been so so patient with me as I finished this chapter. I only have one hand to type at the moment so this took 50 years. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Why don't you stay with me, share all your secrets tonight

We can make believe the morning sun never will rise

Come and lay you're head on this big brass bed. We'll be all right as long as you stay with me

YOU.

The dark sky seems even darker through the tinted windows of the black car that Joel has sent to pick you up. He sounds urgent on the phone; when you tell him that you need to talk, he tells you that you have a lot to discuss, but he doesn't want to talk over the phone. Eventually, you agree to have his driver pick you up and take you to his penthouse. Secretly, you're glad that he suggested meeting in person. You don't want to go over everything and why you left without saying goodbye, with your two roommates listening to every word of your conversation. Lin acts as though your life is more interesting than all of the reality TV shows she binge-watches every weekend.

The car is just as luxurious as you should have expected after seeing all of the amenities that the Miller family is used to, but you're still surprised at how supple the leather seats are as you slide across them for your long ride across New York. It's nice to spend the drive relaxed and not on the edge of your seat, afraid the cab driver is going to hit a pedestrian trying desperately to cross the street. You remind yourself not to get comfortable with this type of luxury; it's not going to last.

“Is there anything I can do for you to make the drive more comfortable, Miss?" Joel's driver calls back from the front seat.

“No, everything is perfect, thank you," you answer.

“There are snacks and beverages stocked for you if you change your mind."

There's sparkling water in the cupholder next to you, mysteriously maintained at the perfect temperature. You crack the seal and let the bubbles tickle your throat as you watch the skyscrapers pass by your window. You should have guessed that Joel's penthouse would be on the Upper East Side, but you can't help but stare at the buildings and how extravagant everything seems compared to your dumpy little neighborhood. The driver pulls to a stop in front of a tall building and gets out to open your door for you.

The night sky is littered with stars, which are muted by the bright lights of Joel's building. A doorman dressed in a uniform opens the front door for you and escorts you to the elevator, where he presses the button for the penthouse and backs out with a lift of his hat. You ride the elevator in silence, your heart beating increasingly faster as you pass each floor with a ding of the elevator. You can't help but wonder if Joel is angry with you for leaving the Bahamas without so much as a word. You hope it hasn't hurt him, but after your fight with Sarah, you couldn't stay, and you knew that Joel and you could never have a future together, especially when his only daughter hated you. Worst of all was the reason you were at his home in the first place. You couldn't let him risk his reputation for you. That photographer didn't need to have the opportunity to take more pictures of you together. You're convinced you're not worth the risk. The elevator stops at the top floor, and the doors slowly slide open to reveal Joel's front entry, a set of floor-to-ceiling glazed glass doors. You ring the small buzzer, and a few seconds later, Joel's unmistakable form approaches the glass.

“Darlin'," Joel says with a warm smile as he slides the door open to reveal his face.

You're relieved to be greeted so warmly. You had told yourself over and over again on the ride over that you couldn't pursue anything with Joel, but as soon as you see him, you have to fight to suppress your feelings for the man. “Joel, it's nice to see you again. Thank you so much for sending a car, although you really didn't have to."

“I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," Joel says, reaching out his hand to you.

After a slight hesitation, you take it, and he leads you into his penthouse. The interior is decorated in a modern style with sleek lines and crisp edges, giving the entire space a clean and wealthy feel. A large statement dining room table takes up a large portion of the space.

It's glowing from the tiny flames of tealight candles spanning the entire length of the table. The light flickering off all of the surfaces adds a subtle softness to the sharp lines of the room. Joel pulls out a chair for you.

“I don't know if you've eaten, but I had my chef prepare a little something before he left for the night."

“I can always eat," you say with a small smile of thanks before he disappears into the kitchen.

He returns with two artful plates of filet mignon and asparagus spears. He sets a plate in front of you and the other in front of the chair directly across from you. He pours a generous glass of wine for each of you before taking his seat.

“This is absolutely beautiful," you say as you glance around the room.

“It is, isn't it?" Joel says looking around the room, too, before continuing. "Honestly, I tend to forget how nice this place is. Typically, when I'm in New York, I get so wrapped up in work that I forget to enjoy it."

“Well, you should slow down more often," you say, not exactly sure how friendly to be with the man you'd almost slept with and then ghosted.

“Well then, to more happy nights," Joel says, raising his glass to you.

You sigh, not picking up your glass to meet his. “Joel, don't you think we should talk about the photographer? We can't act as if nothing happened."

Joel sighs, too, and sets his glass back down on the table. “I know that we need to talk about what happened. I am sure you have a lot of questions for me. I'm honestly surprised that you even agreed to come here after everything my family and guests put you through. I just wanted to spend some time with you before we had to talk about all of that unpleasantness."

You're shocked that Joel is worried about you not showing up; he always seems so confident and put together. The entire time you had been worried he wouldn't want to see you again when he was worried about the same thing. “I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me again," you admit sheepishly.

“Babygirl, I would have to be crazy not to want to see you again."

Heat bursts into your cheeks, and you're thankful that the light is low enough to hide your blush.

“I have mentally kicked myself every day for not going to you right after I got back from chasing off that photographer. Then, when I woke up the next day, I found out you were gone, and it was too late. After that, I figured you needed some space, understandably. Your vacation was anything but relaxing," Joel says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I should have at least stayed to say goodbye, but at the time, I didn't feel as though I could stay."

“I found out from some of my staff that you and Sarah were heard getting into an argument. No one knew what it was about, and I couldn't get a straightforward answer out of Sarah. What did she say to make you feel like you needed to leave?"

You look down at your plate and take a slow bite, trying to decide just how much of the fight with Sarah you want to disclose to her father. The meat is so tender it feels as though it melts in your mouth; you swallow reluctantly before speaking. “Sarah found out that I was Todd's previous girlfriend. She obviously wasn't happy about it, and things got pretty heated. I didn't want to stay after that."

Joel stares at you as though trying to get you to go into the horrible things his daughter had actually said to you. It's hard for you to understand why you still feel the need to protect Sarah from her own shitty behavior, but you hold your tongue anyway. “I know there is more to it than that."

“None of that matters anymore," you say, looking down at your plate again to avoid his piercing gaze. “We are going in completely different directions in our lives, and I doubt that we will ever cross paths again. We are from completely different worlds."

“You are right," Joel responds, watching you carefully. “You two are completely different. She is turning into everything I hoped she wouldn't, and you, well, you are… real."

The silence between you is only interrupted by the soft clinks of your silverware against your plates.

“I wasn't able to catch up with that photographer," Joel says softly, almost ashamed.

“I know," you respond, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“What do you mean?" Joel's eyebrows furrow together, clearly confused by what you are alluding to.

“Right before the flight I was on took off, an unknown number sent me a picture of us in the cove."

Tears start to well up in your eyes. Joel jumps up from his side of the table and is next to you in an instant. He grabs your hands from where they are resting on your lap. Even as upset as you are, the feeling of his hands on yours makes your entire body feel warm.

“Baby, why on earth did you keep this to yourself? If I would have known that he was blackmailing you, I would have had someone standing guard at your apartment day and night."

“I thought that if I disappeared, they would leave you alone, but whoever it was, they found me. That's why I came to find you at your office."

“What do you mean they found you?" Joel asks, concern flooding his eyes.

“Someone followed me back to my apartment. I ran down the street, but they must have noticed where I lived because the next time I opened the door, there was a box waiting for me.

Joel stares at you, absorbing every word you speak.

“The picture was inside of the box with a note that said, 'Tell Joel he is running out of time.' That's when I decided I needed to come and find you. I am so sorry, Joel. I thought this would all just go away if I walked out of your life."

"That son of a bitch," Joel curses, releasing your hands as he stands and strides toward the balcony. Your hands, now devoid of his warmth, feel empty and cold.

"Who?" you inquire as Joel retreats, opening the door to step outside onto the balcony. You rise to your feet, fully intent on following him when he doesn't respond to your question. You make your way out to the balcony slowly, a sense of awe washing over you. You've never been inside a home as luxurious as this one.

The balcony sprawls out before you, offering an incredible view of the New York skyline. The distant buildings cast a glow that lights up the night sky like stars anchored to the earth. It would be breathtaking if not for the tense conversation hanging in the air between you two.

Joel settles onto an outdoor sectional in front of a fire pit nestled within the coffee table. The lavishness of such amenities never fails to astonish you. You take a seat next to him and look at him with expectation in your eyes, but when he still doesn't answer your question, you press further.

"Joel, who is trying so hard to drag you through the mud? Surely, it isn't just about money. If that were the case, they would have sold the photo already, and it would be everywhere by now." You pause for a moment before continuing with conviction in your voice. "I'm sure someone would pay a lot for that picture. This seems much more personal."

"You're right, babygirl," Joel responds with a slight smile playing on his lips as he gazes into the slowly flickering flames before him: "You are very perceptive; you really will make an excellent lawyer."

Your eyes meet his with determination: "I hope I get to be one," you say thoughtfully before adding with concern. "But I don't know how focused I will be if I am constantly having to watch over my shoulder or fend off journalists curious about our situation."

Joel sighs at your comment and looks out over the cityscape below—a silent acknowledgment that perhaps you were more direct than he expected. Even though you're not in the public eye like he is, this situation still has the potential to jeopardize your future career.

"I am sorry for dragging you into my messy family drama," Joel finally offers, his eyes softening as he turns to face you.

"Someone in your family is trying to blackmail you? Who would do that?" you ask, your shock evident in the way your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline. You watch as Joel struggles to articulate an explanation.

"I believe I mentioned a bit about my father and our strained relationship while I was growing up," Joel says, his gaze drifting away from you.

"Yes, a little, right after we watched the dolphins," you recall, encouraging him to continue.

"Well, a significant part of our issues was his constant absence. When I was younger, I convinced myself that his work kept him busy, but after his death, I discovered that it was likely due to an affair he was having."

"Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, at a loss for words. The thought of discovering infidelity after already grieving the loss of your parents is unimaginable to you.

Joel continues, "I don't know how long the affair lasted, but at some point, the other woman became pregnant. I found out about Blaine some time ago—my half-brother, the product of my father's long-hidden affair. I don't even know if my father ever met his other son."

Curiosity piqued, you ask, "Have you ever met him?"

"No, I searched for him for years without success. Once I finally located him, I had my security team investigate him. To put it mildly, he's made some very poor life choices. So, I never pursued a meeting with him."

You reach out and take Joel's hand in yours, feeling the tension in his fingers as they intertwine with yours. He looks at your joined hands, seemingly finding it difficult to meet your gaze.

"It wasn't long after he discovered a connection to the Miller family through a DNA match that I started receiving messages demanding money. My father made it clear that Blaine was to inherit nothing. When I didn't respond, he began threatening my family members."

"Oh no," you say, your voice laced with sympathy as you run your thumb lightly over his.

"I had my security team focused on protecting my extended family. I was naive to think he wouldn't have me followed to the Bahamas. My oversight led to us being photographed. Blaine, my delinquent half-brother, must be the one trying to use you to get to me," Joel concludes, his guilt apparent in his eyes.

"Joel, this isn't your fault," you reassure him, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his eye.

"It is my fault. I'm the reason you're being dragged into this blackmail," Joel insists, finally meeting your gaze.

"If it weren't me, it would have been someone else," you counter, trying to alleviate his sense of responsibility.

"Don't you see?" Joel asks, frustration creeping into his tone. "If there had been another woman he could have used against me, he would have. There's never been anyone I cared for enough. I believe Blaine had us watched for quite some time before you left. He must have realized there was something more between us that he could exploit."

"What is between us?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as you grip your hands together tightly in your lap.

Joel hesitates, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He looks at you with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. "There's enough between us that I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting you," Joel finally admits, not breaking eye contact.

A pang of disappointment hits you, but you push it aside. "Oh," is all you manage to say, feeling a sense of deflation. You chide yourself for harboring such feelings. You know better than to want him in that way. He's older, and he's the father of your former friend. A relationship between you two could only lead to heartache. Yet, despite all logic, you can't help but yearn for him to feel more for you.

Joel stands with you, gently taking hold of your arms and turning you to face him. He pulls you close, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours as you place your hands on his chest.

"Babygirl, you are... irresistible," Joel confesses, his words sending a jolt through you. "I found myself seeking you out, just to spend a few moments with you. I tried to keep my distance, but I couldn't resist my desire to be near you, to hear your laugh, or to be the reason for the smile on your beautiful lips."

His words ignite a flutter in your chest, and you struggle to steady your breathing, your hands moving up to caress his neck as your fingers thread through his hair.

"And that day I took you to watch the dolphins, I knew all my efforts were in vain. I gave in to my feelings for you, despite knowing it was wrong. I wanted nothing more than to take you right there on the sand of that beach."

Joel's lips graze yours, the proximity of his mouth making it hard to concentrate on anything but the possibility of what might come next.

"I let my guard down because I thought it was safe. Safe for both of us. I liked the man I was when I was alone with you. On the yacht, I was more myself with you than I had been in a really long time. You awakened a desire in me that I didn't know was still there."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," you whisper, your lips brushing against Joel's, your body instinctively leaning into his.

His urgency matches yours as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. You explore the contours of his chest and neck with your hands, finally allowing yourself to indulge in the moment. His tongue slips into your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you, prompting him to pull you even closer. After a few intense seconds, you regain your senses and pull back, your breath coming in short gasps as you stare into his face, taking in his handsomeness.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, a frown forming on his lips.

"I'm moving in two days," you say, trying to rationalize your hesitation. "I just don't want to start feeling more for you just to have to leave again."

"I have a home not far from Harvard. I travel constantly all over the world. This isn't really about the distance between us, is it?" Joel challenges gently.

"No," you admit reluctantly.

"Then what is it about?" he asks, moving closer, his gaze locked onto yours.

"It's about how complicated this is, with Sarah and Blaine... it's all just so much," you confess, unable to trust yourself to look at his enticing mouth.

"What if we stopped worrying about how complicated this is and just... gave in?" Joel suggests, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He leans in and kisses you sweetly once more before pulling back to gauge your reaction.

“Just for tonight”, you whisper, biting your bottom lip. Sleeping with Joel, even for just one night, is probably a bad decision, but you don't care at the moment. You are so caught up in the emotions he sends spiraling through you that you can't bring yourself to say no. At his touch, your skin is on fire, and the taste of him lingers on your lips even after he pulls away.

It's all the invitation he needs to pick you up and kiss you again and again. He trails a soft touch up your side, and your skin prickles at his wandering hand. He lays you back against the soft cushions, and you catch a brief glimpse of his skin as his shirt billows. You can't help but run your hand up his stomach, feeling each well-defined ripple of muscle. Goosebumps appear in waves along your body as the heat of his chest travels up your arms.

You help him out of his shirt as the firelight sends dancing shadows across his skin. His linen shirt falls to the floor in an unwanted pile. Joel leans down to you and settles his hand upon your cheek. The gesture is adoring, which makes your heart ache with happiness. You have never been looked at the way Joel gazes at you.

"You are so unabashedly beautiful, baby," he says, his eyes narrowing in a hungry gaze that leaves you wanting more. His thumb traces the soft contour of your mouth, melting away your thoughts of anything but him. His deep eyes penetrate your soul, warming you to your core. You have to have him.

You reach for the waist of his jeans, but he stops your hand and grins at you. "Slow down," he says. "If we can only have this one night, I want to remember every second of it. I want to memorize every curve of your body, every sound that crosses your gorgeous lips, every look on your face." If you are only going to allow me one night, I am going to make it count."

His lips meet the nape of your neck, making your entire body shudder. Every kiss and soft touch of his lips along your collarbone has you melting. Joel's hands slide to your waist, and he tugs up the fabric of your shirt. He gently eases the garment over the top of your head. You feel his eyes devour the sight of you in your black lace bralette.

A gust of wind sneaks through the holes of the lace, making your nipples even harder than they already are at the sight of him. Joel's lips trail down your neck and to your breasts, teasing you with his tongue. He kisses along the upper barrier of your bra, leaving you panting and writhing beneath him as you long for him to take your hardened peak between his lips.

Again, you reach for his belt and busy yourself undoing it. Your fingers fumble with the clasp, and he chuckles softly at you, but eventually, it gives way, allowing you to access his top button and zipper. You want to rip the fabric from his body, but you remember that he had told you to move slowly, so you do your best to keep your trembling fingers calm.

The moon continues to rise higher in the sky as you slowly and methodically abandon each piece of Joel's clothing. You are ready to follow his lead, but Joel insists on slowing everything down for you, making your body physically ache with desire for him. He unclips the clasp of your bra and lets it fall to the floor at his feet. His soft kisses trail every part of your chest as he makes his way down to your belly button. Your arousal burns inside of you even as the cool breeze of the evening nips at your naked body. Joel pulls you closer to him. The heat from the fire only warms one side of your bodies.

"Are you cold?" he whispers against your neck, his breath fanning out and warming your flesh.

Shivers continue to move down your naked body in response to him and the breeze, but you do your best to give him a verbal response, even though your ability to speak has evaporated when his lips met your bare skin. You can only manage a slight shake of your head. However, Joel sweeps you into his arms and back into the house. His bare feet are soft on the cold tile of the hallway, and he uses his back to push open a door. You can barely make out his bedroom in the dark, a skylight offering the only light in the room directly over the bed.

The bed is covered in a white goose-down duvet that flutters in response to Joel helping you into the pillows. Then, as the blanket settles around you, he crawls over top of you. You grab the sides of his face and pull him closer to you, your thumbs massaging against his cheekbones.

"I am so lucky to have met you. Taking that trip was the best decision I have ever made," you pant, and you kiss him hard, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, your teeth clamping down on the soft flesh, leaving him leaning into you with want. You can feel his hardness against your thigh, which only serves to spur you on to kiss him deeper. When you release him, he smiles down at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"I’m the lucky one. I will always be the lucky one." Joel's fingertips brush your cheek as he moves a loose lock of hair away from your face.

He kisses you back and lowers his body to meet yours. You lift yourself up to him, wanting to get as close to him as possible. You need him so badly; the thought of there being any distance between you at all is unimaginable. His need for you is also apparent, and he presses himself closer to you, his hardness poised at your entrance. The heat of your bodies mingles in the warmth of his bed.

You grip the duvet cover in both of your hands, anticipating him pushing inside of you, but he is still gazing down at you, taking his time.

You are unable to fight your longing for him for another second, so you don't. With both hands, you grip his muscular back, spreading your legs wider to welcome him in. His smile shifts to a smirk, and then, he is moving inside of you. Your head tips back, and an ethereal moan leaves your lips as he fills you completely.

Joel takes his time with this as well, creating a smooth, steady rhythm that has you hanging onto him as your only grip left on reality. Your hands trail down to his firm ass, and touching him in such an intimate place sends another shiver of pleasure through your body.

Before long, you feel your body begin to spasm around him, and it is all you can do to keep oxygen in your lungs. Joel's lips are on your neck, and you can feel him increasing his pace to match your moans as you tumble over the edge, crying out his name in a voice you don't even recognize as your own. Joel keeps you at your peak for what seems like an eternity. By the time he tightens up and grunts a few times, filling you with warmth, you can hardly handle the intensity of what he is doing to your body.

After Joel finishes, he doesn't move off of you right away. Instead, he kisses you softly, taking his time, his tongue dancing around yours, as if he were savoring the taste of you. When he finishes, he kisses you a couple of more times, quickly, and then moves so that he is resting next to you.

He pulls you to his chest, cradling your head against him and running his fingers through your hair. You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his chest. You want to tell him all of the emotions you are feeling in your heart, but you don't dare. You had said just once. How could you lie in his arms and tell him you love him when this wasn't just your first time making love, it was also goodbye? You can't do that to him. So, instead, you lie there in his arms, letting your heavy eyes close, listening to the rhythm of his heart and his breathing, wishing this was just the first time and not the last, but nothing can be done to change your circumstances.

This will have to be the end.

You wake up a few hours later, and Joel is still awake. You know by the look in his eyes that he wants you again. Your instincts say no, you shouldn't do this again, but the fact that you have already made love once, and the night isn't over, spurs you on. Before you can stop yourself, you are mounting him, and with him buried deep within you, you rock your hips, letting that feeling of euphoria wash over you again. You continue for hours until you are both exhausted.

Finally, you begin to fall back to sleep and settle next to him, but your mind is too busy to let you fall asleep completely. You watch the look in Joel's eyes as he looks over at you. Your breath slowly starts to settle back to an average pace. He stares at you as though he can't look away.

—

The soft glow of early morning dusts the starlit sky. He kisses your lips so softly you aren't sure if it's real or if the entire steamy night has been a dream. He lays his head back on one of the many pillows and closes his eyes. A small hint of a smile still lingers on his lips. Joel wraps a soft blanket around your naked body in a protective way. You melt into his side and can feel his heartbeat. You listen to the steady rhythm of his breaths until they slow. You know he has fallen asleep. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, your mind doesn't want to rest.

Joel has a way about him that makes you feel safe, wanted, and, dare you think it, loved. You haven't felt that way in a long time. This one night with Joel puts three years with Todd to shame. You can't see yourself ever finding any man as wonderful as Joel again. You feel a piece of your heart break, knowing this can't last… that you won't let this last. Knowing that everyone in Joel's life will make sure that you won't even get a chance to try. You don't want the ugliness of reality to ruin the perfect night you have shared.

Joel was right. If you were only going to have one night together, you needed to make it count. Rather than giving in to your thoughts, you close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.

When you wake up, it takes you a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the morning light streaming through the skylight. You're at Joel's house, in his bed. The smell of his sandalwood cologne lingers on your skin and the silky sheets. You roll to your side and realize that you're alone. You sit straight upright, holding the sheets to your bare chest, as you look around the room. The door is cracked open, and you can hear the clinking of dishes coming from down the hall.

You drape your legs over the side of the bed, scanning the floor. After an unsuccessful search, you realize your clothes are still on the balcony. You make your way into what you assume is Joel's ensuite, pull one of his shirts from the closet, and slip it over your shoulders. After rinsing your face in the sink, washing away yesterday's makeup, you silently make your way down the hall back to the kitchen.

Joel is humming a light tune while he's scrambling eggs in a frying pan. You stand and watch him as he continues cooking, humming to himself, and occasionally smiling. Your heart lifts at the thought that those smiles are for you.

“Good morning," you say in a lighthearted tone, pretending as though you hadn't been watching him.

“A very good morning," Joel answers with a small wink.

“I hope you don't mind that I borrowed this. I couldn't seem to find my clothes this morning."

Joel laughs and splits the scrambled eggs onto two plates.

“It looks a lot better on you. You can borrow it anytime you like," he says, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Oh wow, you cook too. What can't you do, Joel?" you ask and take a bite of eggs into your mouth.

Joel pulls out a paper bag full of pastries and places each one carefully on a plate.

“Eggs are just about the only thing I can cook. I usually have a black cup of coffee on my way out the door, so my cook doesn't come until later. I always like to keep a few of these on hand, from the bakery down the street." Joel passes you the plate full of pastries and you pick out a fluffy croissant. When it's just Joel and you, it's easy to forget that he's insanely wealthy and amenities such as personal chefs are his norm.

“I would love a cup of that black coffee if you have it on hand." You smile and break the croissant in half, inhaling the buttery scent.

“How did you sleep?" Joel asks, pouring you a mug full of coffee.

“I slept amazingly. You'll have to tell me where you got your sheets. They are so soft," you tease.

Joel chuckles and sits down next to you, placing the coffee in front of you. He brushes back a piece of your hair and tucks it behind your ear. The simple action sends another wave of heat through you, and you have to remind yourself not to get used to this. You swallow hard.

“How did you sleep?" you ask.

“The best night's sleep I have gotten in a long time," he says with a smirk and a glance in your direction. You feel your cheeks burn at his insinuation.

“Me too," you admit, thinking about how great it felt just to sleep next to him.

You take a sip of the steaming coffee and continue working on your plate.

“So what have you been up to since I last saw you?" Joel asks as though you hadn't run away without saying goodbye.

“I have just been packing up the apartment and trying to remember everything I need to do before the move."

“Did you get everything taken care of that you needed to?"

“Yeah, for the most part," you say, glancing at him. You can't stop thinking about your night together.

“Have you gotten everything packed?" he asks with a hint of sadness in his voice, keeping his eyes on his food.

“Not everything, I am close, but I still have a few more things to sort out."

“I would offer to come to help you if I didn't have to work today. I have a meeting with investors, which I can't get out of."

“Oh, no, I would never ask you to miss work. I will just call a cab," you say quickly.

“Nonsense. I will have my driver take you home."

—

Joel helps you collect your clothes from the balcony and you use his bathroom to freshen up before he walks you downstairs. The same black car is waiting for you on the street in view of the lobby.

“I will call you later, babygirl. I promise," Joel says.

You nod and look up into his eyes with a small smile. Joel bends down and touches your lips to his. The kiss is soft and sweet; the heat lingers on your lips as the car pulls away from Joel standing on the sidewalk, watching you leave.

The drive goes fast on the way back to your apartment because you keep replaying the events of your night with Joel over and over again. You can feel your face heat up by the time you pull up to your building and Joel's driver opens your door for you.

“Thank you so much for the ride," you say with a smile, the driver nods but does not get back into the car.

“Is there something else?" you ask, confused.

“I have strict instructions to make sure you get into the building safely, Miss."

You give a weak smile and head into your building and up the stairs. As soon as you put your key in the lock, the door flies open. Both of your roommates are standing in the doorway with grins plastered on their faces.

“Somebody didn't come home last night. That better mean you have something to tell us," Lin says, she's nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I don't know what you mean. We just had a nice time catching up," you lie with a sly grin, and already know your roommates can see right through it.

“Oh, you two caught up last night alright. You slept with him, didn't you?" Aubrey says, and her smile gets even bigger.

“I did," you say barely above a whisper, your smile filling your face at the admission.

Both Lin and Aubrey squeal as they usher you inside and close the door.

“We need every single detail," Lin says.

“Fine, but I really need to shower first," you say, chuckling.

After your shower, the three of you sit down so you can spill the tea. You start off with the not so interesting parts and let it build.

“So everything started out on his balcony, where he kissed me. I was ready to rip his clothes right off his body but he wanted to take things slow. He said he wanted to memorize everything about me," you say, warming at the memory. “Since it was only for the night, I'm glad he made me slow down."

“And how is this man single?" Aubrey asks with a giggle.

“Honestly, I have no idea. The way he made me feel was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Plus, he made me breakfast this morning."

“We don't care about the breakfast! How was he?" Lin asks, waving her hand to make you move on.

“He was absolutely amazing, I think I actually left my own body at one point."

“How big is he?" Lin asks, leaning in closer with a grin.

You smack her arm lightly and start laughing, hard. “No way in hell am I going to tell you that!"

“It was worth a shot," Lin says with a mocking smile.

“Honestly, the sex was the best I have ever had. And it wasn't because of his size or his amazingly toned body, which it is by the way. It was the way he looked into my eyes that made me feel like I meant so much to him. I felt like he was seeing me for who I actually am, and adored every part of me. I haven't felt that way in such a long time," you gush as you wrap a towel around your wet hair.

Lin lets out an audible moan and falls back onto her unmade bed.

“Oh, you are so lucky. I don't know if I will ever find a man to look at me like that. Although, right now I could do with one with rock-hard abs," Lin says.

You laugh and toss a pillow over to Lin, and it flops onto her.

“It was absolutely amazing!" you continue daydreaming.

“So when are you seeing him again?" Aubrey asks.

“I kind of told him that it was a one-time thing…" you trail off.

“Why the hell would you do that?" Lin shoots straight up and practically shouts at you.

“In case you forgot, Lin, we are moving in just two days. How am I supposed to continue a relationship with him while he's living in New York?"

“You can't really believe that. The man is a billionaire, I am sure you would see him all the time if you really wanted to. You are just using moving as an excuse," Lin says. She stares you down until you can't take it anymore and look away. You make eye contact with Aubrey and can tell she feels the same way.

“It's complicated."

“We just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy," Aubrey says and reaches out to hold your hand.

“I want to be happy too, but there is so much standing in our way. I am moving away, his daughter absolutely hates me now, and not to mention our age gap. Plus, the creepy stalker situation."

“It doesn't matter how messy it is if he makes you happy," Lin offers.

You sit in silence as you soak in their support. A knock on the door echoes through the entire apartment, making your heart beat faster. You all look at each other with apprehension.

You rush to the door expecting Joel to be on the other side. You're ready to tell him that you want to give this, to give it a shot. There's no one at the door, so you stick your head out and look down the hallway, but still discover nothing. Just as you're about to shut the door, you notice a small piece of yellow paper taped to it. You peel the tape off of the door and turn the note over. In tiny, extremely neat handwriting are five words. These five words make your heart drop and chase all thoughts of a relationship with Joel from your mind.

You can't run from this.

JOEL.

Everything about you had been so wonderful, and Joel couldn't get the memory of your intimacy out of his head. He sighs, resting his cheek on his fist as he rides along in silence, anticipating a busy meeting with investors. Vultures, all of them, but they were a necessary evil. The only thoughts Joel wanted to have today were of you. Unfortunately, he didn't always get what he wanted.

He watches as buildings whiz by, the scent of street vendors and car exhaust heavy in the air. People wander along the sidewalks, chatting happily with one another, arms full of shopping bags. He sees a couple lean forward and lock lips, a sadness stabbing into his gut. That could be us, Joel thinks to himself, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. Things had to be so complicated. Money could solve most, if not all problems, so why not this?

The car pulls into the building, and the door is opened for him so he can make his way inside. Bland colors like muted whites, greys, and blacks greet him as he exits the elevator and walks down the halls in his formal tailored suit. He gives an absentminded nod toward the secretary, not thinking much of either this meeting, the people here, or the day, as his thoughts are strictly locked on you..

Well. That was until he recalls a rather recent memory regarding the secretary. He remembers her words regarding the wonderful, intelligent woman he had in his bedroom only last night. Before entering the meeting, he gives her a harsh glare out of the side of his eye, something she doesn't notice, as she is busy typing on the computer. Perhaps something would need to be done about her unfair and unwarranted treatment of you.

Joel smiles to himself, the thought of being rid of this new problem tantalizing. First, however, he needs to handle the circus that is the investors. Thankfully, the meeting goes quickly, the bored expressions of the investors only mildly infuriating. It takes a lot of determination and hard work to run this company, so to see people a bit less enthusiastic makes his stomach clench with annoyance. Now he can move on to more important matters. His hand flies toward his pants pocket as he feels a vibration, raising a brow. Could it be you? He wonders, at this point excited like a lost school boy. He's a mess. Joel Miller, a highly successful man in this dog-eat-dog world. Brought to his knees by a woman twenty years his junior, but what a woman you are. To him, that doesn't matter. Joel brings out his phone, his heart fluttering and a grin widening across his face as he realizes the message is from you. Perhaps you're texting in order to work things out? He's been interested in you before, with obvious worries due to the age gap, but is now convinced that if you both wanted to, you could work things out. He would never force you to do so. However, after actually reading the texts, his heart clenches, and he feels a pit in his stomach. His hopeful smile melts into a deep, angry scowl. That bastard is still active, more than ever now. Blaine needs to be stopped, his antics this time included leaving a letter for you that reads; You can't run from this.

Joel will make damn sure that he can't, either. He needs to figure out the status of this situation with his head of security. He clenches his jaw and resists the urge to throw his phone against the wall. Reacting that way wouldn't be helpful. Joel ignores the secretary's wary, surprised look as he briskly walks past her. No doubt, she sees his expression and posture. He will deal with her later.

Sending a text, he makes his way to another meeting room, this one private. He waits for Bruce to enter, taking a seat himself and leaning back in a cushioned chair. Bruce does, after what feels like hours but could only have been minutes.

“You want updates on the Blaine situation, sir?" Bruce asks, causing Joel to give a curt nod. Bruce sighs, shaking his head. “I have good news and bad news. Bad news first, we have no idea where he is located."

Joel puts a hand over his forehead and lets out a soft groan, the stress of the situation spawning a minor headache. “What could the good news possibly be in this situation," Joel asks, his voice laced with frustration.

The security head isn't phased, likely having expected this reaction. Rather, he dips his head, taking out his phone to turn toward Joel. His expression is grim, and there are shadows under his eyes. Perhaps this situation is taking its toll on him as well. Joel will bear that in mind for bonuses. Bruce will get a big one, if he can coherently help Joel take Blaine down, of course.

“We're sure the pictures have not been released to news outlets. My team has been watching this issue like hawks. No sign of the media getting their grubby hands on this. Your reputation is safe for now, sir," Bruce explains.

Joel sighs, muttering, “It isn't my reputation I'm worried about." He shakes his head, holding his face in his hands and thinking for a moment. After composing himself, Joel looks back toward Bruce and gives a nod. “Thank you for your hard work. I hope we'll be able to find him soon. He's been making my life a living hell, and I need to put a stop to it." Anger swells in Joel's chest at the lack of progress despite the 'good news', and not at the head of security by any means. He knows that the team is doing their best. Those not doing their best, however, are about to get punished, and hard. Joel runs his fingers through his hair, making his way out of the room and dismissing Bruce back to his current position.

Now, Joel is headed toward the front desk, his jaw tightened and his expression twisted into an incredibly deep scowl. He approaches the secretary, who is leaning back, likely slacking off as she sometimes does. That's whatever to him, as long as she gets her work done. Insulting you, however, is not included in her job description, and it tells him how she thinks of, and treats people in general.

Joel snarls at her, “You. You're fired."

“What? But, sir, I–"

“Did I stutter?" Joel asks dangerously. “Out. Now. You have five minutes to grab your things and go. If I return and see you here, I will address this with my head of security."

“Can you at least tell me what I did?" she asks, pouting as she stands up.

“Yes. You insulted someone who is very important to me because you thought you were better than her. Maybe this will teach you a lesson about treating people poorly. Now, out!"

She stares at him with a mixture of anger and horror, the latter expression doubtlessly winning out. There's no way she can touch him, not with the amount of power he holds. One moment she was on top of the world, abusing those below her, and the next, she's below the woman she mocked. Hopefully, Joel isn't emulating that. He ponders this for a split second, but then shakes his head. No. She deserved this after the treatment of you, but beyond that, it again shows that this behavior was likely not limited just to the one woman he cared for.

Joel makes his way into another room, taking a few turns in the hall before arriving at his assistant's desk side. His angry expression fades into one that is far more apologetic when he sees her typing away, stacks of papers to be organized on her desk. She looks up, puzzled, and tilts her head. “Sir?" she asks, taking her hands off the keyboard and leaning back.

There's no fear in her gaze, like some when they look upon him, given the position he holds. She knows him well enough that if she's actually diligent with work and a good person, he will return the kindness. Unfortunately, she's about to have something added to her workload. Guilt twists in Joel's stomach, but nothing can be done about that.

“I need a new secretary," he sighs. He adds, quickly, “I'll compensate you for your stress. I promise. A large bonus. I know it's a lot, and I truly appreciate your work."

His assistant sighs, glancing back to her computer. The slightest hint of frustration crosses her face, and Joel could have sworn the circles under her eyes got just a bit darker. Then, however, she smiles, letting out a chuckle. “Sure, Joel, I will get right to it. An extra day off or two added onto this bonus may help all of this stress, though."

“After we sort out the secretary thing and other pressing problems, yes. A week off, fully paid, and that bonus. How does that sound?" Joel asks hopefully.

She grins, giving him a thumbs up. Joel sighs in relief, glad that at least, that was taken care of.

Glancing at the time on his cell phone, he realizes he has lunch with Todd and Sarah. What fun that would be. Seeing Todd again after everything he's learned about him is less than appealing. Joel gets into his car, leaning against the door and staring out into the bright, sunny day.

What he wouldn't give to be with you right now, learning even more about you, talking about plans for the future. Joel licks his lips, shaking his head. Speak of the devil, though. On his way to the restaurant for lunch, his phone rings once more, and it's you.

His heart flutters seeing your name, but he knows this is serious. “Hello?" he asks, a hint of caution in his tone.

“Joel," you breathe from the other line. “You got my text, right? I'm so scared. Can we please talk? I really want to see you again to go over this."

“Yes, we can," Joel confirms, happy to be able to see you again, but sad to hear the stress in your tone. Given the circumstance, it's understandable. “I'll have Bruce pick you up. See you soon."

YOU.

Your heart pounds with anxiety as you wait on the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall and shuddering despite the warmth of the sun. Your reputation is currently at major risk. Your stomach clenches, swirling with negative emotions and sheer, utter fear. You've worked so hard to get where you are, to lead a successful life, and now this could ruin it all. You don't want to be stuck in a low-paying job, barely scraping by. Is Joel a curse or a blessing at this point? No, you can't think like that. Blaine is the one causing issues, not Joel.

The memories of kissing and fucking Joel flood back, and you recall how good it felt, how cared for you felt. You lick your lips, remembering the way Joel ravaged you in bed, allowing your eyelids to droop just a little. For a moment, you cap the fear, but that only lasts briefly before the wave of negative emotions crashes over you again. You start to pace, trying to reassure yourself that everything will work out. Surely your life can't be ruined by one picture, can it? But deep down, you know the truth. This is terrible.

By the time Bruce arrives to help you into the car, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away, not wanting your emotions to be so plainly visible by the time you arrive. It will be hard to hide your feelings from Joel, but you're too distraught to care at this point. You click your seatbelt into place, lean against the leather seat, and stare out the window, trying to distract yourself from the inevitable.

Above, the sun begins to be obscured by clouds, a fitting metaphor for your mood. The greys of the asphalt mix with the bland white and black buildings you rush by, their windows dark, mostly covered by curtains from the inside.nYou pass a murder of crows picking at roadkill, twisting your stomach at the sight. Though all of this is mundane, it only serves to worsen your mood. The patter of rain on the windows confirms the approaching storm, accompanied by distant rumbling. You hug yourself, close your eyes, and try to calm down.

When you arrive at Joel's house, the sight of it in all its extravagance would usually excite you. You adore seeing Joel. But with the recent problems caused by your complicated relationship, it doesn't feel the same as when you left. Bruce leads you to the door and politely steps back, waiting for Joel's protocol. You hesitate but eventually knock, convincing yourself that texting would be silly given you're right here.

Moments later, Joel opens the door. Your breath catches as you stare up at him, momentarily lost in his eyes before snapping back to reality. Memories of your night in bed come flooding back, distracting you, but you know you need to stay focused. This is a horrible occasion, but even within this tiny pocket of time, you convince yourself that surely he can help. You make that decision just by looking at him, even if it feels a bit naive. After taking a deep breath, you reach into your purse and pull out the note for him to see in person.

A mixture of emotions crosses Joel's face. His lips twist into a scowl, his brow furrowing, reflecting the mood of the storm. Another rumble of thunder causes you to jump a little, but Joel has no reaction. He slips the note into his pocket and fixes his eyes on you. His scowl fades into a worried frown, his deep eyes gleaming with concern.

"Babygirl," he begins, biting his lip, probably searching for the right words. A silence stretches as he seems to lose his words again. You break the silence after placing a hand on your forehead and dragging it down your face. You will the tears to hold back this time because you need to keep your tone steady and convey how you're feeling.

After taking a deep breath, you say, "Joel, I'm frightened about what this could do to my reputation. That note definitely indicates action will be taken soon. I really want us to work out, but with that horrible person causing all this stress and danger to my life as I know it, I'm on edge and losing it."

This time, you can't stop the tears. They well up in your eyes and slowly glide down your cheeks. Joel stares at you for a moment, probably at a loss for words. Once again, silence stretches. Say something, you think to yourself, biting your lip and quickly reaching up to wipe away more tears. You raise your eyebrows, hoping he has all the answers. Sadly, he appears as lost as you are, his head hanging slightly, his body tense.

"I will take care of you. Just put your career aside, for now. Not forever. Let me help you. It will be fine, we can work this out," Joel finally says, causing you to inwardly groan.

That's not what you wanted to hear. You don't want to have to rely on him all the time. You don't want to put your dreams aside for some storybook relationship that may not work out, leaving you with nothing. You've worked too hard in life for this, spending countless hours in school to become a lawyer. Your dreams are crumbling right before your eyes. Is it because of Joel? An inner voice tells you no, it isn't. He has nothing to do with this. By how he treats you, you know he loves you back and wants to do everything in his power to make this work. But this situation has escalated beyond his control.

You shake your head, crossing your arms as he motions into the house. "Please. Follow me, at least. Let's talk this out," he pleads. You oblige, the pit in your stomach growing heavier.

You walk through the house, your eyes falling upon the fancy carpeting and light fixtures, still finding some comfort in them despite this situation. Truthfully, you need to start letting this go. You need to let it all go. With your mind stuck here, with him, there's no way to move on with your life and advance the way you want to. As much as your heart breaks having to admit that, you know you need to be a lawyer more than anything.

You take a seat at a table across from him as he raises a brow. "Eggs?" he asks sheepishly, causing you to smile despite the circumstances.

But that smile quickly fades into a frown as tears begin to flow once more. This time, you don't bother wiping them away. You take a deep breath and make the decision you need to. Steeling yourself, you look him in the eye and say in a very serious tone, "Look, Joel, we can't do that. I can't do that. I have to do this for myself. How can I rely on you all the time? How can you take care of me through all of this?"

"Baby, I have plenty of money and resources. I can easily take care of you; you don't need to worry about all of this," Joel says, his voice tinged with a pleading tone.

"I am not some child in need of being taken care of. I can't spend my days longing for the beach billionaire only to have my independence and dreams threatened. I want to be a lawyer for myself, not for the money. If my reputation is shattered, so is my life. I am sorry it has to be this way, but this has gone too far, and I need to say goodbye."

"What? No, wait, I–"

You're not listening at that point. Tears are pouring down your cheeks as you stand up quickly, whirling and bolting down the hall. You don't care if you're running away from your problems now. You don't care if you're running away from him while at the same time wanting to fall into his arms and tell him you'd drop everything so that he could care for you. You need to do this for yourself and not be caged by this nightmare.

The expression on his face, that brief glimpse of utter grief, has your heart pounding. You burst out the front door and hurry down to Bruce, sniffling and letting out a few whimpering sobs. You feel as though you're melting. The pattering rain makes you sopping wet, which does the opposite of helping the situation. You lock eyes with Bruce and gulp. "Please. Take me home. Just take me home."

He nods, thankfully asking no questions, and opens the door for you. You get in and rest your forehead against the window, shuddering with sobs. Bruce graciously raises the privacy screen, though you catch a sympathetic glance from him in the rearview mirror.

Strands of your hair fall into your face, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to calm yourself down after that horrible decision. How could you just walk away from Joel? He was so great, but you were just too scared. Scared of losing what you've worked so hard for, even if you do love him. You had to do this for yourself. You hate how much you still love him. You hate how you want this to work out. But most of all, you hate that you need to leave him. All of this is what's best for you, though.

As the car pulls out of the driveway and drives off, you glimpse Joel standing there, watching you leave, his shoulders slumped. He stands in the rain, not moving, letting himself get soaked. He watches you drive away until you can no longer see each other.

You manage to calm yourself down at your apartment, telling Lin and Aubrey that you really can't talk right then because your head isn't in the best spot. You drown yourself in books, particularly those of law, to remind yourself just how important this is to you. You can't let some lovestruck incident stop you from chasing your dreams. When you finally look at the clock, it's 11:03 PM. You gasp, surprised at just how well losing yourself in rounding out your studies has worked to eat up time.

Tossing and turning in your bed, you can't get Joel's expression out of your head. Everything about that situation makes you feel horrible.

Did you make the right decision?

You still feel that strong urge to contact Joel again and apologize for how you behaved. Running back would achieve the opposite of what you want, though. You have to let this all go. You can do that, right? Judging by how closely you clutch your pillow that night, imagining it's Joel, you aren't so sure.

The next morning, you wake up, yawning and rubbing your eyes. The smell of fresh bacon hits your nose, causing your stomach to rumble. Through all of this stress, you find yourself eating less than you should lately. You really should pay attention to your health. All of this stress is, no doubt, horrible for you. You enter the kitchen area, looking over to Aubrey. Her eyes sparkle with concern as she stares you down, tilting her head.

“How are you?" she asks with hesitation, as if concerned the question would shatter you to pieces.

You respond with a shrug. “Been better. My focus is on packing. We have a lot to finish," you offer.

Aubrey nods, finishing breakfast up and serving you at the table. She sits down across from you, munching on the scrumptious bacon and gesturing for you to help yourself. That you do, something you definitely don't regret. Cooked to perfection and warming your stomach at least a little bit, the bacon helps ease you even if only a smidgeon. You're grateful for the silence during eating, though, as you're still gathering your thoughts.

When all is finished, you return to packing. You haul some books and pack them into some boxes neatly, letting out a light sigh. Lin joins you soon, her cheerful expression fading upon seeing your face. Are there circles under your eyes? Probably. You went to bed at a less-than-reasonable hour. Not to mention, you tossed and turned all night, which probably contributed to how slow you are right now.

You break the awkward silence first. “I was very harsh with Joel yesterday," you begin.

Lin gasps, taken aback by this. “The same guy you said you had amazing sex with? But why?" she asks. Aubrey leans forward, flabbergasted by this knowledge as well. You nod, biting your lip and feeling tears coming on again. You cry a lot lately, don't you?

“Because it isn't working out," you say with a short tone, gathering your bearings. A few items in boxes later, you decide to elaborate. “My reputation is at risk. I really want to become a lawyer, guys. I am so scared. I got a threatening note, and if pictures get out of us together, I'll be done for. You know how the media is. I will never be able to practice. My dreams are at risk of being completely destroyed," you mutter.

Aubrey and Lin exchange a glance, probably debating how to approach this. You glance up toward them, waiting for their response. Your arms are a little bit achy from moving some of the heavier objects into the boxes, but you make do. Probably best to rest after these final days of packing.

“And you're sure, dude, you're completely miserable." Aubrey asks softly. You hesitate but slowly nod. Her eyes have a skeptical spark to them, but she dips her head. “I'll take your word for it even if you seem a little unsure. The stress is getting to you. I can tell."

“Yeah," Lin agrees. “The way you talked about him was hot. I still wish I had a guy like that, but if it's not going to work out, then it's best to move on. Moving will probably be the best thing that can happen."

“New York isn't a good place to be right now," Aubrey adds, her nose wrinkling. “So many problems, and on top of all this? Thank goodness Cambridge is quiet. At least, it should be quieter. Look, I'll hold the fort for you here. You promise to stay in contact, though?"

Realizing you're losing one of your close friends, you tear up all over again. The best you can do is nod. You spread your arms, and your two friends rush over to you. One group hug and many tears later, you pull away from them. You place your hands on Aubrey's shoulders. “Lin and I are going to miss you so much, we will absolutely stay in contact. How could we not, you're like our sister?"

You all hug again, crying at splitting up. It had been you three against the world for so long. The sadness is interrupted by your need to load the Uhaul. That's even worse than carrying all of the heavy boxes around, admittedly. The conversation turns from the obvious panic-inducing subject of the Joel situation to brighter, happier topics. At least there isn't a cloud in the sky above this time, making the move a bit more pleasant.

You smile and enter the apartment, wanting to take one last break before heading out with the final boxes. The stormy mood hanging around your head is at least starting to dissipate.

Lin and Aubrey take a seat before you, munching on some ham sandwiches for lunch. Lin eyes you and asks, “You ever think about writing a book or something? Your life sounds like a movie."

After a harsh look from Aubrey, Lin grins sheepishly and coughs. “Er, this will hopefully be a happy ending."

You chuckle, shaking your head and wiping away some sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “No, but I should, shouldn't I?" You chuckle.

Then, you sober a bit. “We don't need to avoid the subject if you have questions, though. I can tell there's something on the tip of your tongue."

Lin glances over to Aubrey, who shakes her head. Evidently your friend decides to ask the question anyway. “Do you think he will follow you? How bad was your fight, anyway? You said very harsh but that could mean a lot."

Aubrey leans over and elbows her, and Lin gives her a look that says, What? We were both wondering that.

You sigh and shake your head. “I don't think he will. At least, I hope not. I will put my foot down and tell him to go away if he does. Even if I really, really don't want to."

Aubrey's eyes sparkle with sympathy as she stares at you. “Still in love, huh? Not every day you find a man that looks at you the way you described. But, again, you should do what's best for you. Before everything else. There will be other men out there! If you think this won't work out, yeah, moving on is good. Not awesome, but good." You nod, wanting to take your friend's advice to heart and not put yourself in any more danger.

“We are really going to miss you Aubrey, life won't be the same without your great advice and support," you say and Lin nods in agreement.

“Yeah, who's going to keep my mouth in check now?" Lin says with a grin, though tears are in her eyes.

“No more crying!" Aubrey says, and you all laugh. It's going to be hard to leave this, your friendship means so much to you all. You try not to think about what Lin said. But you can't stop the thoughts running through your mind now.

What if he does follow you? Will you really tell him to go away? Or will you cave? This really isn't his fault, at all, but regardless of who's causing the issue, you together can't work.

You feel your heart clench at that, really, really not wanting to accept it. Thankfully, there's no way he would show up anywhere soon. He's too busy, right?

You finish up your break with the other two, exchanging hugs again. They each take a few heavy boxes and head out to the Uhaul, grunting at how heavy they are.

As Aubrey passes you, she says, “You really take your studies seriously, huh? I'm glad you did what's best for you in that case, because just by all of this, your career being in danger would obviously crush you. Even more so than these heavy boxes are crushing me."

You have to laugh at her antics.

Placing the last box at the bottom of the moving truck, you wipe more sweat from your brow and smile to yourself. You can look to the future, leave this place behind, and start anew. You have so much going for you. All of this drama will be behind you soon. So will Joel. You bite your lip, not liking that thought. Maybe you should have been nicer as opposed to storming out like that. “Very harsh," you whisper to yourself.

“Uh…hey?" you hear Lin's voice.

You're resting there, staring at a box, lost in thought. Letting out a sigh, you wave your hand without turning around. “Give me a minute, please," you respond, wanting to gather your bearings once more. All of your swarming thoughts keep contradicting you, after all.

“I don't think we have a minute. Someone is here to see you," she says. You furrow your brow and roll your shoulders back, turning to see what in the world she could be talking about.

Your eyes widen and your jaws drop as you spot a very familiar face. Your entire body tenses, and your breath catches as you take in the man standing before you. The man you'd driven away from and left there in tears only a day before. He wears a forlorn, lost expression, guilt seeping from every pore.

“Joel," you breathe. “What are you doing here?"

JOEL.

Seeing you again, so gorgeous in every way, brought back painful memories that, just hours before, he had said goodbye to. Yet here he is, staring you down with likely an incredibly pleading expression. A pit forms in his stomach as he wonders if this is disrespecting your wishes about space. He doesn't walk any closer to you, even though he very much wants to take you into his arms and hold you close. He swallows and lets out a soft sigh, opening his mouth to start.

“Babygirl, I–"

“Joel, what are you doing here? You–"

“I know, it–"

“Seeing you here again, I–"

“I wanted to talk about–"

You both stop, getting nowhere since your words are being tangled by talking over one another. He has the delight of seeing an amused glint in your eyes. You bring your hand up to your lips, covering your mouth for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat and letting out a sigh. Your expression hardens as, no doubt, you decide to stand your ground. Rolling your shoulders back, you lift your chin, regarding him with a small degree of wariness.

“Go ahead, Joel. I'll hear you out," you say, nearly causing Joel to collapse with relief. He has one last chance to make things right, and he needs to make it count. This isn't about him; this is about you. You deserve the life you've strived for. You're an intelligent, beautiful woman, and it's not his place to get in the way of that. Steeling his resolve, he does as you ask, nodding and refocusing his mind on the issue at hand.

“I was wrong," he starts, watching as you raise a brow. “I should have never asked you to put your dreams on hold for me. It was selfish. I was blinded by my feelings for you, which in the end, would have harmed you. You will still have the position at the law firm I helped you obtain, though your merits were more than enough. I understand none of this is about the money. It is about you being you, going out there and helping people like you have always wanted to. Making a name for yourself. I apologize for being too dense to realize that."

Tears brew in your eyes that you reach up to quickly wipe away. He watches your shoulders sag and listens to the little sniffle you give as you process everything he's telling you. Several emotions flash across your face right then. The first is surprise, followed by acceptance, and finally cautious happiness. You wear a soft smile, moments later not bothering to wipe away the tears.

He has a feeling they turn from panicked and sad to tears of a more positive nature right then. He can't help but feel hopeful at this and a smile slowly creeps across his face.

“Thank you," you breathe, taking a few steps forward and hesitating. “Can I give you a hug?" His heart skips a beat, and he nods, delighted for this chance. It will likely be among the last ones you and him exchange, as he is not going to get in the way of your dreams, though he has deep feelings for you.

You continue, “I'm really happy you came to see me. I tried letting go of everything, but it was so hard, Joel."

He wraps his arms around you as you bury your face into his chest. The smell of sweet perfume wafts into his face, causing his entire body to relax. Everything about you is angelic, beautiful, and perfect. He wants to sweep you off your feet and take you away, to treat you like the princess you are, but he knows those thoughts are unreasonable. Rather, he holds you there for several moments before finally breaking the silence after a thought of seeing you for longer comes to him.

“Would… you like to have one last bit of extravagance with me before you start your new life in Cambridge? No strings attached. Just a night of fun for you, to rest your mind after all the stress you have been dealing with," he says.

Even if the stress was due to him, in some part at least, perhaps this all would help. You would know you were going to a better place following the night, if you accepted, anyway. He knows you don't want him to ruin your chances at law school, but he really doesn't want to let you go. The thought of never seeing you again after tonight makes his heart ache. He looks at you, trying to hide his desperation to be with you from his expression.

After a long pause, you pull away and look into his eyes. His heart drops, considering the high possibility you will decline. You have every right to, after all, given all that has happened. He opens his mouth to assure you that he would understand entirely if you said no, but you raise a hand to stop him, your smile widening. “Yes. I think that would be good for me, Joel. Thank you. Plus… I miss you. I am sorry for storming out the way I did," you mutter.

“Oh, I deserved it," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was not putting you first or thinking of how hard you worked to achieve your goals. But I am delighted you decided to come with me."

Right then, rounding the corner are two women, your roommates. Seeing him, your jaws drop for a moment. One walks up to you, quickly, putting herself between him and you. You say, “Lin! What are you doing?"

Lin replies, “Making sure you're alright! You came home a wreck, and now this guy is here? He's the one you left, isn't he? Looks like how you described him."

“Yes, but we talked it out. I… want to spend one last evening with him. It's something he offered to do," you say.

Lin steps aside, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow. She looks over to the other girl and gestures to him and you.

“What do you think, Aubrey?" Lin asks.

The other girl, Aubrey, shakes her head, looking toward you. “Is this healthy? Are you sure you are not in danger? He clearly seems to care, but what about the stalker?" she says, side-eyeing him. “We just want to make sure you're okay."

He can't blame them, and this is not his place to intervene. He steps aside, waiting for you to explain the situation. Trying to interject and defend himself would not be wise at this point.

You give your friends a very sad smile. “Hey, I appreciate how much you two care. I know. I was a mess. I still am. But Joel apologized, he understands my dreams come first. It's goodbye after one last night. I'm not changing course or anything. I'm not dropping my plans. I just can't deny my emotions for him anymore. Really, I need this," you tell them.

He blinks in surprise, honored you would defend him in front of your friends the way you did.

Lin appears skeptical as she exchanges a glance with Aubrey. The sun shines down on all four of you, just a few clouds in the sky right now. The temperature is mild, so the atmosphere itself at least isn't making things worse.

A car rumbles by, its mechanical growls breaking the silence that had settled on your group. You're out of the way and on the sidewalk, so you're not disrupting anyone, at least.

Finally, Aubrey speaks up. “If you think this is what's best for you, then we support you," she says. “I know you won't walk away from your dreams for anyone, no matter how dreamy he may be. But be careful, okay?" Her eyes fall upon him, and there's a dangerous glint to them he rarely sees in any expression from another toward him that doesn't relate to his wealth. “As for you, don't play with her emotions or steer her away from what she truly wants. Understand?"

He nods, aware she is dead serious and wondering if that was a threat. Not that he's opposed. This is a caring gesture for you, and he's relieved you have friends like this that care deeply. “I do," he replies. “I know I was wrong, I was just scared for her and tried to protect her the only way I know. It wasn't the right way, though. And it will never happen again."

He hopes they believe him because it's all true. He would never ask you to sacrifice your dreams for him; it isn't fair to you.

“I will arrange for someone to drive your belongings to Cambridge and set up your apartment while we spend one last night together. Lin, if you'd like, they can set your stuff up there as well."

Lin and Aubrey exchange another glance and nod. Lin says, “Thank you, I'll take you up on that! Remind me to find a guy like you when I have to move again."

This lightens the mood, causing all of you to laugh. Thank goodness, the situation could have turned fairly complicated very fast. True to his word, he makes a call to his assistant, arranging for your things to be taken care of. One last thing to worry about.

When the other two women leave, you and he are left there together, silent and just staring into each other's eyes. He finds himself lost in yours, tilting his head and cupping your cheek.

God, you are beautiful. His breath catches just looking at you. He can't believe just how lucky he was to have found you, and that you found it in your heart to forgive him even if he's drowning in guilt over not putting your wishes first.

“Kiss me?" you ask in a hush tone, and he can't help but to oblige. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, stars practically rushing through his entire body. He is lost in all of you during that kiss, emotions swirling and skin crackling with chemistry. You eventually have to pull away for air, sadly, and you let out a soft sigh.

“Thank you," you whisper.

He smiles at you, taking you into another hug. “No. Thank you, babygirl."

He will make it count and see your smile light up the area again. Nothing is too much for you, and he is going to pull out all the stops. He looks at you and smiles. “One last night together," you sigh and smile up at him.

One last night together.

taglist: @brittmb115 @lizzie-cakes @puduvallee @theoraekenslover @harriedandharassed

@vickie5446 @chiyo13 @ashleyfilm

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fluff

245 notes · View notes

spiderwcd · 9 months

Text

Stalked | s.g.

pairing: Sam Golbach x influencer ! f ! reader

summary: They knew something was off, but they never imagined it to be this bad.

Warning(s): angst! stalkers, breaking in, fear, profanity, mentions of a weapon

A/N: honestly first time writing angst, so forgive me if it's really bad, ALSO, please read the last note, I need your guys opinion on something.

images from pinterest !

Sam loved y/n, so much so that Sam let her finally move in. Well rather, they made it official. She had practically lived with Sam for a year now, always sleeping over and leaving all her things around his house.

It was great, she loved waking up to Sam every morning and making him breakfast. She adored how he'd show up for some of her streams and talk to her fans. Sam was the love of her life, there's no doubt behind that.

But recently something was off.

It started off with a few overly creepy dm's, saying perverted things to her. She would block them but they seemed to never go away, assuming as they made multiple accounts to send the horrid messages.

But then she felt like she was being watched, going out in public became sketchy for her. She noticed a hooded man in the coffee shop she frequented or around the corner in the supermarket.

Then, it was getting really out of hand. She would receive random packages from fans all the time, opening them on her live stream and laughing at gag gifts. But it was odd to receive gifts on her front porch, when she regularly received gifts via a P.O. Box. She had opened one, regretting it to this day.

In the box were various pictures of her around town, heart shapes surrounding her face. On top was a letter, long story short, she realized it was a stalker.

Sam and y/n tried to figure out a way to put a restraining order, but couldn't due to the fact that they didn't know this said man's identity.

Unfortunately, enough was enough. All she could do was go on another live stream tonight, explaining reasons why she wouldn't be streaming anymore. She propped up the camera, Sam in the back for moral support.

"Are you ready?" She weakly smiled.

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand as she sat back down as many fans joined in.

She tried to put on her bubbly personality, attempting to welcome many of the fans.

"Hey guys," she waved to the camera. "How are you guys?" She asked, placing her other hand on her chin as she looked at the various comments.

Her fans knew her all too well, quickly recognizing that something was wrong.

'oh no, y/n you okay? you look sad :('

'woah, mom and dad look so serious!? Are we in trouble?!'

Y/n smiled at the concern, "yeah, guys you have all been bad," she sternly pointed to the camera. "Right sam? We gotta take away their Xboxes." She turned over to Sam, causing him to chuckle.

"Yeah guys, who shit in the kitty litter? The cat's shit is not that big!" He joked trying to lighten up the mood.

Y/n smiled, squeezing Sam's hand a little stronger as she looked back at the camera.

"Alright guys, Imma wait a little longer for more people to get in just so they don't miss anything." She announced, continuing to read the comments.

'mother is mothering'

'y/n, ask sam when the next video is coming out?!'

'y/n is so pretty guys :)'

She turned to Sam, "they're asking about your next video, babe." She pointed out. "I don't know, I've been put under a contract not to discuss any future videos guys." She put her hands up in defeat.

Sam grinned at her before looking up at the camera, "Well, Colby will kill me for saying anything, but we're working on something to record tomorrow actually." He raised his brows, pursing his lips a bit.

"You heard it here folks, Sam is not retiring." She joked.

As they were goofing off and joking around, the viewer count went up to nearly 50k. She was impressed by the amount, amazed by her followers.

"Wow guys, there's 50 thousand of you here!" She cheered, raising her hands up into the air. "So now that we have a lot of your attention, don't get too distracted by this beautiful face." She pointed towards Sam.

Sam dramatically covered his face, pretending to be flustered. "Oh, stop it guys!" He responded with a high pitched voice.

Y/n playfully smacked his thigh as she giggled, "Well, so this is sorta sad news guys," she began, trying not to look at the comments. "But this will be my last stream for a little bit, just there's been stuff that came up and it's no longer safe for me to stream. I would go more in depth but again, for our safety I can't really say why."

She held back tears as she glanced over to her comments, fans practically panicking.

'what?! noooo :('

'omg what happened?!'

'nauuur! I look forward to your streams :,('

Y/n gulped, holding back tears as she read the comments. "Yeah guys, it's only temporary," she sighed, Sam holding her hand as he laced his fingers with hers. "But it's just to ensure safety for me and my loved ones, it's only until this problem goes away guys. I just gotta say, I love you guys, you guys give me purpose and I'm so thankful for that, so I hope you guys understand."

She weakly smiled, reading the many comments of support and touched by their kindness.

"Well with that guys, I'm just gonna end it here," she sighed, leaning towards her computer. "See you guys, hopefully soon." She blew a kiss into the camera before cutting the stream off.

She let out a sigh as she sat back down in her chair, a creak emitting from it. Y/n looked over to Sam, who offered her a smile as he rubbed his free hand on top of hers.

"You okay?" he asked her, furrowing his brows as worry coated his voice.

She nodded weakly, "I will be," she replied. "I just hate to stop streaming, I really want this stupid stalker to like chill the fuck out." She groaned as she rubbed her face.

"I'm sure it won't be long," Sam tried to comfort her. "I mean he hasn't been around for a while." Sam shrugged.

Y/n couldn't help but stare off into the ceiling, taking Sam's words sink in, "That's true," she mumbled. "I've had stalkers before, but they were never this bad." She emphasized.

Sam understood her frustration, he knew streaming was everything to her. She worked hard to please her fans, streaming every other night practically. He loved that about her, how caring she was and worked for her fans even when days weren't as good to her.

"Well let's get some sleep, okay?" Sam patted her thigh, standing up from his seat.

Y/n groaned, throwing her head back, "This feels so weird," She grumbled, mimicking Sam's movements and walking towards their bedroom. "Are you still going to that haunted hospital or whatever?" She asked him, removing her sweatpants and sweatshirt.

"Yeah, but I can always stay here with you if you want," Sam answered, watching her movements. "I can always reschedule it." He offered.

Y/n threw on one of Sam's t-shirts, jumping into bed next to him, "No, no, I'll be okay," She declined, stabilizing her head onto her hand. "I don't want you to disappoint your fans, plus the cameras you installed really give me a lot more comfort." She smiled, her heart warmed by his gesture.

"Are you sure? I-I just don't know how I feel about leaving you here all alone." Sam sighed, pulling her close to his chest.

"Yes, I'm sure sam." She laughed a bit, laying her head onto his chest. She listened to his heart beat against her ear, she breathed in deeply before looking up at sam. "I love you, you know that?" She whispered to him.

Sam smiled down at her, placing his finger under her chin as he pulled her into a kiss. "I love you more." He whispered back, pecking her on her forehead.

The next day, she watched as Sam packed various equipment into his bags. But he wouldn't stop pestering her about his offer, her refusing it every time.

"Okay, baby I will call you when I land, i'll check the cameras often, oh, and update me every like hour," Sam commanded, his suitcase in hand as his backpack strapped to his back. "I don't care if you think it's annoying, I just need to make sure you're okay."

Y/n laughed at his demands, kissing him on the cheek, "I promise, but youre gonna have to worry about Colby in about two seconds cause it looks like he's gonna drag you away." She joked, pointing at Colby in the car.

Sam sighed, "He’ll be fine," He rolled his eyes playfully. "Okay, I love you like a million, please be careful, okay? Lock all the doors and keep the windows locked, I'll call Celina or someone to come and keep you company." He suggested, landing a quick peck on her lips.

"Alright, love you too," She chuckled, embracing him into a long hug. "Okay, okay, now you have a safe trip okay? And make sure Colby brings you back in one piece." She joked.

She watched as Sam ran towards the car, looking back every few steps as he blew her kisses. She noticed Colby rolling his eyes, impatient as is.

Y/n sighed as she locked the door, making her way to the living room. She dropped down onto the couch as she exhaled a breath. She looked down on her phone, deciding to check up on her socials.

She was surprised by the sheer amount of support she received, fans encouraging her. She smiled at the many comments, her smile soon fading away as she looked at the random drama article of hers.

Streamer Y/N L/N, goes on break cause of STALKER?!

She rolled her eyes, of course they're trying to profit on her vulnerability. She threw her phone down onto the pillows, standing up onto her feet as she made her way towards the kitchen. She figured she could distract herself and make something to eat. Usually when she was bored she would stream, but for obvious reasons she couldn't cure her boredom at that moment.

After she had made some dinner, she turned on one of her favorite shows. She decided a few episodes wouldn't hurt to catch up on, resting her head onto a few pillows as stared at the screen.

A season and a half in, she heard her phone ding. She picked it up, letting the phone turn on and the message displayed on her screen.

sam:

just landed! How are things over there?

Y/n started typing out her answer, trying not to make it sound depressing as it felt.

y/n:

great, i'm just watching some of my shows right now :)

It didn't take long for the phone to ding again, Sam's response delivered onto her phone screen yet again.

sam:

sounds good

Do you want some company? I could send Jake or even Celina over

y/n:

I think i'll be okay for now

I prolly will be up for a while anyway so i'll let you know

sam:

okay, be safe babe

I love you 300 million tons baby!!!

Y/n smiled at the text, seeming to miss her boyfriend even more now.

y/n:

well I love you 300.01 million tons!

She shut off her phone, tossing it back to where it last was. She blankly stared into the TV screen as she tried to focus on the show. Her eyes began to grow heavy, slowly beginning to grow more tired.

It didn't take long before she found herself sleeping on the couch, the random show adding as a background noise.

She awoke from her sleep, hearing her phone buzzing next to her. She fluttered her eyes, looking outside at the now dark night that had overtaken the evening sun as she slept.

She groaned as she picked up her phone, Sam's name displaying on her screen with his photo on it. She mentally cursed herself for falling asleep, forgetting to update Sam. Y/n slid the answer button, bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hey, sorry I fell asl-." But before she could answer, Sam cut her off with panic in his voice.

"Babe, Babe?! Are you okay?" Sam frantically asked. "Where are you right now?" He added, panic rising in his voice.

Y/n furrowed her brows, confused on why he had begun panicking over not updating him on her whereabouts.

"I'm just home, in the living room right now." She sighed, rubbing her eyes out of her tired state.

"Okay, okay, please tell me you locked all the doors and windows," Sam sternly replied.

Y/n stood up, noticing the TV had still been blaring. "Yeah, I locked the front door when you left and the backdoor had been locked, what's going on sam, you're really freaking me out." She grumbled.

"Y/n, please listen to me very carefully," Sam began, shaking in his voice. She heard him talk to another person in the back, something about a ride to the airport. "Go to our bathroom, and lock the door, please baby." He panted, hearing a car door shut in the background as he began to run.

Y/n just was more confused, but complied with his instructions. She began walking towards their bedroom, but froze when she heard a sound from downstairs. The sound of glass shattering echoed from the home.

She sprinted towards the bedroom, locking the door and entering the bathroom connected to it. She swiftly locked the bathroom door, backing away as she tried to cover her heavy breathing.

She forgot she was on a call with Sam, faintly hearing his loud shouts for her. She brought the phone back to her ear, barely stabilized in her shaking hand.

"Y/n!? y/n!? What happened?! Y/n, please answer me!" Sam shouted, calling out for her. "Was that glass breaking?!" He called out.

"Y-Yeah, I just heard someone fucking break a window or something downstairs," Y/n whispered into the phone. "Sam, I-I'm scared." Her voice cracked as tears began to spill onto her cheeks.

Sam cursed a bit in the background, "Fuck, it’s gonna be okay baby, I promise." His voice shook, distressed as he felt hopeless in this situation. "Colby called the police so they should be over there any moment, just stay there and don't make a sound, okay?" He informed her.

Before y/n could respond, she heard faint heavy footsteps make their way up towards the stairs. It seemed as if he had stopped at the end of the staircase, in front of the living room.

"Sam, I-I think he's upstairs," Y/n sobbed softly. "I’m so fucking scared, Sam." She whimpered out.

Sam cursed yet again on the other side, clearly frustrated and worried. "It's gonna be okay, Colby's still on the line with the cops, they said 5 more minutes, okay? Just don't say anything, it's g-gonna be okay." She heard Sam's frustrated sniffs as his voice cracked.

Slowly, the footsteps became louder. They thudded with each step, slowly making their way towards the locked bedroom. Y/n felt hot tears stream down her hot cheeks, her heart pumping as if she ran a marathon.

But then the footsteps stopped at the door to the bedroom. She listened carefully, her ears perking up to every sound. 5 minutes will feel like eternity. She listened as the door handle started jiggling to their bedroom, with a frustrated man's voice as he kicked the door once, then twice and with a loud crack as it swung and hit the wall.

She let out a scared squeal, Sam still shouting for her on the other side. She didn't dare to move, still intently listening as the man rustled around the room, trying to find something or someone.

She could practically feel her heart beating out of her chest, feeling nothing but pure fear as the man began stepping closer to the bathroom door.

Y/n found it odd when the man knocked. She didn't answer, letting yet another tear slip out of her eye. But she found it even more odd that he slipped a piece of paper under the door, seemingly blank.

Y/n prayed that the police would arrive any moment, rescue her from this nightmare. But mostly wanting Sam to be there for her, to protect her.

She shut her eyes, bringing the phone to her ear again. Sam kept calling out for her, freaking out. "Sam, If something happens, I-I love y-you okay?" She sniffed softly as she whispered softly into the phone.

"Y/n, don't say that! You're gonna make it just a little long-" as Sam was about to finish his sentence, the door cracked just like the one in the bedroom.

She jumped, tears spilling as she let out a sob. Just as quickly as he opened the bedroom door, the door ricocheted against the wall. She felt herself shake like a leaf as her back pressed up against the bathtub, watching intently as everything moved very slowly.

The background noise of Sam's voice and everything else drowned as she heard her heart beating, eyes glued to the broken door. The man slowly stepped closer inside the bathroom, turning his head very menacingly.

The masked man creeped into the bathroom, the glimmer of a blade in his hand. She let out a sob as she turned her head away, shutting her eyes shut as she prayed it was a nightmare she woke awake from.

She could practically feel his breath on her face, now kneeling in front of her. His hand at first moved to her face, tracing his fingers on her wet skin but then moving his attention to the phone clutched in her hand. He scoffed as he snatched the phone out of her hand, bringing it to his ear.

"Y/n? Y/n?! answer me, please." Sam begged on the other line.

"She's unavailable at the moment." The man's deep voice rang out in the bathroom.

"Dont you dare fucking touch her," Sam spat through the phone, gripping onto his phone with anger. "I swear to God, I will fucking kill you." He growled.

The man chuckled a bit, amused by his threats, "Well, I don't see you anywhere." He laughed.

Before Sam could give an answer, the man hung up the phone and set it down onto the counter. He turned back ever so slowly to her, staring down at the floor to avoid eye contact with her stalker.

He kneeled back down, looking at her as she cried.

"You're much prettier than I expected," He laughed, running his finger on a strand of her hair. "Don't be scared, only brought this if your little boyfriend would get in the way." He smirked under his mask, tilting the knife.

As y/n froze up, tensing under his touch, she heard the loud sirens pulling closer to her house. The red and blue lights filling up the room, causing the man to jolt up and look at her one last time.

"This isn't over." He mumbled, running out of the bathroom.

With him gone, she let out a sob as it rang throughout her body. She covered her face, trying to calm down and reassure herself it was all over.

Y/n heard the shouts of a police officer, warning the man to get down. She heard frantic footsteps run down the hall, afraid it was the man again.

But instead it was a female officer, her gun drawn out and a flashlight shining onto y/n's face. She lowered her weapon, turning to her shoulder as she spoke through the walkie.

"Are you y/n?" She kneeled down to her level.

Y/n nodded, "Y-Yes." she let out.

The officer reached for her hand, helping her up. Y/n's legs shook as she stumbled forward slightly, apologizing as she straightened herself up.

"It's okay, you have no need to apologize." She reassured, beginning to walk her out of the bathroom.

"T-That paper, he slid it under the door when I was locked in h-here." She pointed with trembling hands.

The officer nodded, kneeling as she lifted the paper. Y/n couldn't help but peek at the paper, curiosity eating at her.

From what it looked like, it was a love note as he declared his love for her. The officer's face retorted into a one with disgust, hiding it quickly from y/n.

"This will be put into evidence, my other officer will take you down to question you," She informed y/n, letting one of the other officers grab her arm and lead her down the hall.

Y/n's eyes wandered to the broken bits of wood that was flown across the room, their bedroom in complete disarray. She noticed that the same knife he had carried was now lodged into the broken door that hung loosely on the hinges, on the door was a picture of her and sam. Sam's face was scribbled on, with a few profanities scratched around.

Y/n felt sick to her stomach, unable to hold back tears as she trembled down the hall. The street was filled with cop cars, neighbors coming out to investigate the commotion. She spaced out, deep into thought as the police officer's informed her about the break in.

Y/n simply nodded, still in shock. Then she noticed a figure run up to her, Sam. She felt tears spilling out again and a wave of relief washed over her as she watched him sprint towards her, hugging her as he panted and sobbed into her hair.

"Thank fucking god," Sam cried, rubbing her hair as she trembled in his arms. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I should've never left you alone." He cried, stroking her hair as he comforted her.

She peaked over his shoulder, the flashes of blue and red covered the streets. She watched as the officers handcuffed the now revealed man as his mask had been removed, pushing him into the back of the cop car. Y/n quickly looked away, determined not to be afraid of him any longer. As long as she had Sam, she was safe.

She didn't say anything, soaking his sweatshirt with her tears. He didn't let go of her, talking to the police as they interrogated him to find the story.

"Hey, can we do this another time?" Sam snapped, holding y/n as she rested her head onto his chest. "I would love to answer your questions, but she's been through a lot and I need her to rest." He sighed, stroking her hair softly.

The officer understood, handing him a card. They thanked them for their time, getting into the car as they sped away. Y/n sniffled, gripped onto Sam's arms tightly, as if he would leave again.

"You guys can stay at my place for the meantime," Colby offered. "I know your house is sort of a crime scene right now, and your doors are completely wrecked. I have the space." He added.

Sam nodded, thanking his best friend. Y/n hasn't said anything to Sam, still traumatized from her experience. She sat silent in the car, holding onto Sam's hand tightly as they drove. Sam couldn’t help but glance at her, guilt building up inside him.

When they had finally reached Colby's house, Sam followed y/n around. He was so afraid to leave her side again, y/n was comforted by his presence but she knew he had blamed himself for it.

Y/n laid on the bed, glancing at her phone as she looked at the many articles about her. She frowned at the media article, turning off her phone when she noticed Sam enter the room. Sam jumped into the bed, letting out a deep breath as he stared up for a moment.

"It's not your fault sam," Y/n began, causing Sam to avert his gaze to her. "If anything, I'm glad you weren't there, you didn't see what I saw." She added, looking over to him.

"Y/n-" Sam started, but was ultimately cut off by y/n.

"No Sam, don't blame yourself, I told you to go," her voice cracked, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. "He would've hurt you, o-or killed you." She let out a sob.

Sam didn't say anything, pulling her into his chest as she let out tears. He whispered to her that everything's gonna be okay, kissing her head as he petted her hair.

"T-There wasn't much you could do, Sam," She whispered, sniffing. "He came there to hurt you, you did the right thing to call the cops." She commented, looking up at her boyfriend.

Sam half smiled down at her, "I know, just I wish I was there to protect you, I'm sorry." He mumbled, sniffing back tears.

She smiled, placing her palm onto his face. "It's okay Sam, I'm okay," She reassured. "I have you around me to protect me now." She shushed softly.

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand off his face. "It's all over," He sighed. "That's all that matters, you're safe."

Sam wrapped his arms around her, her head pressed against his chest as she listened to his heart beat gently against her ear. It didn't take long for her to finally rest, his scent and gentle heartbeat to soothe her to sleep.

"I'm never leaving you ever again." Sam whispered to her, kissing her head.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

hey guys, thanks for reading!

so now for my question, I want to know if you guys would like smut from me. I have a few works saved, but I'm so nervous that you guys wouldn't like it so please please PLEASE let me know if its something you'd like :)

thanks for your attention!

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #sam and colby #sam golbach #xplr #sam golbach x reader #sam goldbach #xplr club #xplr merch #colby

687 notes · View notes

urrockstar-xe · 11 months

Text

i'll be right there, sweetheart - tasm!p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 4th, 2023 12:50 am

i wrote this with one of my closest friends :D i needed andrew!peter and i needed comfort! i hope u like it as much as we do :)

summary: when reader gets into another argument with her brother, she needs her amazing spiderman to come and save her

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

“Can I come over?” your hushed and choked tone of voice had Peter standing up from the building ledge he had been sitting on, in seconds.

“Stay put, baby I’ll come to you, where are you? At home?” His voice was rushed but you could hear it fine considering the whooshing of the wind was heard in the background,

he was already swinging to your place.

“No, no, Pete, I need to come to yours I don’t want to be home right now, I got into another argument with my brother I just wanna see you, is that okay?”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of your choked sob as you spoke, crumbling at just the sound of you crying, he was already worrying about the sight.

“Of course it's okay, sweetheart, I’m gonna come get you though alright? Meet on the roof?”

Through sniffles, you mumbled back a barely coherent “okay” to Peter as you had already started making your way to the roof of your apartment building, sighing at the sight of your spandex-clad boyfriend swinging through the city, still too far from you to hang up.

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart, just wait for me okay? Hey! Look at that I see you! I mean i think, you’re still a little far” You couldn’t help but giggle at Peter’s words, you could practically hear his smile when you laughed.

“It’s me, Pete” you responded, walking closer to the edge in hopes it would make the wait seem shorter.

“Yeah, it is, I know m’girl when I see her, I’m right here baby, I’m comin'” his constant reassurance of coming to be there for you had your heart swelling and almost willed more tears to form in your eyes as you hung up the phone when you saw that Peter was only a building away.

And there he was, his mask was tugged off the second his feet landed on the rooftop floor, hair messy and face red from the cold as he pulled you into a tight embrace, “I’m here baby, told you I’d be here” he mumbled into your hair, setting his hand on the back of your head as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m just so tired of the same fight, Pete” you cried, the words Peter had only ever read through text messages after you had similar situations like this but none to the point where you needed to get out of there.

“I know, honey, I got you” Peter rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a few sweet kisses to your hairline before squeezing your frame once more. “Freezin' out here, let’s you get back to my place, yeah? May made meatloaf for dinner” you giggled into his shoulder, sniffling as you pulled back to put your arms around his neck and brace yourself to swing through the city.

“I hate meatloaf” you quietly said into his neck as he gripped your waist properly,

As he put his mask back on, Peter chuckled, “I know you do, honey”

Without warning Peter started swinging, it was worse when you had a warning, gave you more time to overthink it and Pete definitely wasn’t risking that tonight of all nights.

He could hardly feel your grip tighten but you felt his tighten every time he shot a new web until finally, he reached his window

This was the tricky part, getting inside his room with you in his arms, it typically ended in you hitting your head or Peter tripping the second he got inside, but this time he was as careful as he had ever been as if you were fragile, delicate, and at this point in time? you were, not that you’d admit it but you didn’t have to admit it with Peter.

he just knew.

Peter carefully slid the window up, helping you get your feet in and stand up straight before climbing inside himself, once more taking his mask off but it was soon followed by his entire suit as he rushed around his room to put on sweatpants and a hoodie. You just stood there for the most part, other than closing his window so he wouldn’t freeze while he was half-naked and running around for clothes.

Any other time you’d make yourself at home, settle into his bed, even stroll downstairs, and say hi to May, but again, this time was different, you felt like you couldn’t move, not without Peter’s help anyway.

Peter of course caught onto this quite fast which was why he was so dead set on rushing back to you as fast as possible even if you were both still in the same room, the old Midtown High hoodie was barely over his head before he had swooped you up back into his arms and laid you down on his bed, nearly crushing you with his body weight.

Your hands found his hair in seconds, to anyone else this looks like you’re comforting him, but to you, this is exactly why weighted blankets exist.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly, gently running his fingers up and down your arm.

“No, thank you”

Peter took note of the way your voice was still so quiet as if you would burst into tears again if you spoke any louder, “Okay, baby”

He sat up just enough to see your face in full, ever so careful, he wiped the few remaining tears from your cheeks, along with the dried streaks that had been caused by the cold wind.

“Did you eat? I can make you somethin?” you just shook your head in response before pulling him back down closer to you, “no? Okay, okay this works too” he mumbled into your shoulder, then he suddenly gasped as if he just remembered something.

“What happened?” You asked, concern in your voice as he sat up, ignoring your question you watched as Peter quickly untied your Converse and pulled them off of your feet, carelessly tossing them somewhere in his room before he laid beside you, this time pulling you into him, running his fingers across your shoulders and entangling your legs.

Peter was once again thankful for the prototype web shooter he had been too lazy to move from his nightstand as he used it to shut off the light without getting up from the comfort of his bed or your arms.

You two laid like this in a comforting silence for a few moments, Peter rubbing your back, your hands repetitively moving from his side and to his chest, he kept thinking you’d pull back to say something but you never did.

Not until after a few more minutes and you sighed, getting your boyfriend’s attention once more.

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment you were sharing.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, sounding unsure, Peter frowned, but he let you continue before commenting. “Thank you for coming to get me” was what you settled on for now.

A billion things ran through your mind, all different ways to show your gratitude for Peter but all that came out was a simple thanks, not that Peter minded.

“‘M just glad you’re okay” he whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“I just don’t know what I’d do without you” You sighed once more after you spoke, gripping the material of his hoodie.

Peter smiled, “It’s a damn good thing you don’t have to worry about that then huh?”

Moving his hand down to your thigh, he moved it completely over his own, bringing you impossibly closer.

“I’ll always be right there, sweetheart”

#tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #Spotify

872 notes · View notes

joelsgoldrush · 1 year

Text

come back same time and place the next night

prologue / 3k words

pairing: dad's coworker!joel miller x f!reader

raiting: 18+ (minors dni)

series summary: your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

series warnings: no outbreak AU, dad's coworker!joel (idk if that's a thing but yeah), lots of feelings (angst/fluff), age gap (reader is 23, joel is 50), no use of y/n, i'm not good at choosing names for side characters sorry for that, some chapters will include smut 18+ and i'll let you know at the beggining of each part

warnings for this chapter: soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

A/N: HELLO AGAIN i'm back with a new series!!! first of all, i just wanted to say THANK YOU bc of all the love you gave my previous post. i'm so thankful for all the likes, reblogs and comments, you truly made me feel incredibly happy. tbh i used to have a hard time figuring out whether i should start posting my own creations or not, and the support you showed me made me realize that it was definitely the right call. so yeah tysm for that and i hope you also enjoy this new project of mine :) i juIt have one final left and then i'll have a couple of weeks to relax and work on this series! also english isn’t my first language so if you come across any mistake please tell me!

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

“Sneaking out of my house / I must be out of my mind / I’m running out of excuses / We’re running out of time / You say the love will come and go / We’ll learn how to ride the ebb and flow / You’ll always leave before the light / Come back same time and place the next night.”

You take another sip of your drink, alcohol making its way through your throat. It leaves a trail of burning kisses down the inside of your esophagus, and you make an effort not to swear as the sensation settles heavily on your chest.

Stacy looks around the bar for a while, her knee impacting rhythmically against yours ever so slightly. Next thing you know, she’s snorting, her blonde hair falling like cascades over her collarbones. “I'm afraid you, my dearest friend, have lost your good judgement. There isn’t a single hot guy in this bar.”

“That’s not true,” your fingers pinch the pink straw floating on your glass, a lipstick stain adorning it. You’re not exactly sure, though. The truth is you aren’t looking for somebody tonight, at least not right now. “Give me a second.”

Scanning your surroundings, you try to concentrate on your quest: finding a new hobby for Stacy. And by hobby, you mean a man she can simp over for the rest of the night. Once you’ve examined the room multiple times without success, you feel… slightly disappointed.

Just when you’re about to agree with her, this pretty waiter comes on the scene, placing a martini under your friend’s nose. “Here it is. Hope you enjoy it.”

Oh.

Stacy giggles at him. It’s that specific kind of giggle you know very well. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s on me,” the hot-waiter answers, giving her a smile that’s all white teeth before disappearing between the mess of sweaty bodies on the dancing floor.

You look at her, because you already know what she will do next. She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction and takes hold of her purse, not without previously drinking almost half of the cocktail she got for free.

Her forehead furrows in a funny way. “It’s not very good. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tell her, ignoring her words. “I’m being serious.”

She leaves and you’re left alone, though you don’t mind the lack of company. The beating of your heart seems to sync with the pounding music from the pub. There’s this one girl doing karaoke, but nobody seems to be actually listening to her. You wonder if she’s aware of it, although she appears not to, because her tone gets even more high-pitched every time she gets to the chorus of the song.

After some minutes, you decide to give Stacy’s drink a try. She wasn’t wrong: the taste of it is absolutely awful. Some muscle in your jaw twitches as you cough a little.

“Is it that bad?”

You turn to your side, looking for the owner of that unknown voice that startled you. A man stands beside you, pointing out the martini. Leaning in closer to him, you hand him the drink. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

His cold fingers brush yours gently when he takes the glass into his hands. The straw vanishes between his lips momentarily, and then he proceeds to chuckle. “You’re right. It’s… definitely somethin’ else.”

This must be your lucky night. When was the last time a guy this good-looking approached you? He jerks his thumb toward the empty chair in front of you. “Are you waitin’ for someone?”

You can't help but smile. “Not anymore.”

The attractive, charming stranger sits down, and you seize the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. You’re not sure of his age, but he’s older than you. He seems to be in his early 40s, the hair on his beard starting to get a bit gray. It’s subtle. If you weren’t such a perfectionist, perhaps you wouldn’t have seen it. But you did, and if possible, it just makes him come across as even more appealing to you.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, why did you order that drink?”

“Well, I didn’t. It was a gift for my friend,” you rest your chin on your palm, giving a half shrug. “She’s with the guy that gave it to her. The blonde girl over there, with the white tank top? That’s her.”

His eyes follow your gaze, finding Stacy just a couple of meters away from where the two of you were talking. She raises one of her hands in greeting, the boy from before attached to her hip like a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

“She seems nice,” he murmurs once he focuses his attention on you again.

“Yeah, she is,” as you finish that sentence, you feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your jacket. “Excuse me.”

It’s a text from Stacy. Said message reads:

whose dad is that??? he’s hot af

You laugh at her occurrence, and he tugs at his shirt collar. “What happened?”

“She texted me: whose dad is that?” staring at him, you lift an eyebrow. “Do you have any children I should know of?”

The stranger seems to hesitate before replying. “No, I don’t,” you watch him lick his lips. “Why? You’re not into dads?”

He's cocky. Good thing you like cocky.

Time flies. You learn some things about him: he’s from Texas (the southern accent gives him away) and works as a contractor (just like your dad, you think, which is funny.) When he reveals how old he is, he seems to look for any sign of discomfort on your features. “I’m forty-five.”

“Twenty-three,” you retort with your own age. He glances up to the ceiling, and you give a bitter laugh. “Is it a problem for you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that to you?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind.” If anything, you like him more. However, there’s one mystery left to bring to light. “What I do mind is that we’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.”

He leans back in his chair. “Let's play a game.”

“Be careful. I’m really competitive.”

“You have three chances to guess my name. I’ll just give you my initial. You gotta do the rest, deal?”

What were the odds of guessing it? I should take the risk, you think as you find yourself already nodding your head. “Deal.”

“It starts with the letter J.”

“Jack,” it’s the first name that comes to your mind. For an instant, you believe you’ve won, but then you catch him smirking. “It’s not Jack, isn´t it?"

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Keep tryin’.”

“Josh?”

“Ice cold.”

“Joe?”

Something you're unable to even distinguish glows in his eyes. “I’m givin’ you one more chance.”

“So I’m close?” you ask him, probably too enthusiastic. He doesn’t say anything else, so you go on. “Is it Joel?”

He places a hand on top of his shirt where his heart is, pretending to act relieved. “Fuckin’ finally.”

You punch your fists into the air. “Yes! I knew I was gonna get it.” A sincere smile takes place on your face. “What’s my prize?”

“Well,” he inches forward, his pinky nudging your wrist, that mere touch giving you goosebumps. “You could give me your number and go on a proper date with me.”

God knows you want it. Rising from your seat, you tuck a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “I was thinking of something else.”

That’s how you end up in the ladies restroom, your back flushed against the wooden door as Joel presses his clothed knee between your legs. You moan into his mouth without thinking if there are any other people outside waiting to use the bathroom. Joel draws in a long breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you. “You wanna put on a show for the others? I'm not one to judge."

“I want to suck you off,” your hand is dangerously close to his crotch, your nails ghosting over his zipper. He seems to be having an internal fight with the last brain cell he has left, but then he detaches himself from you, unzipping his jeans. The sound of his belt hitting the floor with a thud is what finally leads you to fall to your knees.

He’s big. You can tell his size from your position, a wet patch forming into the fabric of his boxers. Playing with the waistband of his boxers for a mere second, your self-control attempts to falter. You grab him by the base, stroking it experimentally. Joel fights back a groan, urging you to take him. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t like t’beg.”

But you do, that’s the thing. “Please,” you whisper, hoping he’ll hear you. His eyes find yours and suddenly it clicks. A lightbulb goes on in his head. He curses under his breath, directing his dick towards your open parted lips, and your eyelids get heavy as the taste of his precum invades your tastebuds.

It’s not your fault he has an amazing dick.

You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of his length with every one of your short movements. Slick must be already staining your own panties, but you can’t get yourself to care about that insignificant detail. Not now, when Joel’s hips thrust deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat and making you gag. It's dirty, and you should probably be ashamed of getting caught by a bystander. All your worries are swept away from your mind the moment he decides not to keep quiet. “Fuck, baby. Knew you would put that gorgeous mouth to good use. Attagirl, takin’ me so well.”

A stupid whine gets lost somewhere in your vocal tract. Intertwining your fingers with his, you locate his wandering hands on your hair, wishing he'll take the hint. He does, and grabs a handful of it, pulling you off his cock.

“You really like this, don’t ya’?” Joel smears your lower lip with your spit. “Were you thinkin’ about this while we were talkin’ back there?”

“Y-yes,” you try to take him in your mouth again, but he doesn’t allow you to, his iron grip on your nape getting tighter the more you fight against it.

Then he lets you have it. “Bet you get off on this too,” his voice drops an octave, and it sounds so nasty and intimate you’re on the verge of crying. With teary eyes, you swallow around his length.

You lose track of time. His bare thighs tremble and the only noise you can hear is his heavy breathing. “F—fuck. I’m close, where do you want it?” Mumbling something you can’t even comprehend with his cock still in your mouth, his thrusts begin to lose finesse, thick fingers holding you where he needs you the most. “So good, baby. Lettin’ me have you like this. Fuckin’—“

He’s about to come.

“—good girl.”

It all happens so fast you have to remind yourself to gulp down his cum, hot and sticky and just Joel’s. You patiently wait for him to come down from his high, nuzzling his happy trail. He helps you stand up, kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue. As soon as he tries to sneak a hand into your panties, getting closer to your aching cunt, you recognize your phone ringing in the distance.

Groaning, you stretch your arm, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Well, hi. This is awkward.”

You frown. Joel mimics you. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”

“I’m calling you from Stacy’s phone. We were making out and then she told me she was feeling sick, so I took her outside… and now she’s throwing up,” the boy on the other side of the line explains to you and you detect a hint of agitation in his voice. “She asked me to contact you.”

“Oh, God. Hot-waiter?”

“Yeah, she also said you were probably going to call me that,” he seems to move his phone away from his ear, and then talks to you again. “She’s not passed out, but she shouldn’t stay here.”

Does he actually think you’re going to leave her alone? “Can you tell me where you are?” you suggest him while Joel tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Next to the parking lot.”

You hang up after telling him you’ll be there in five minutes, and you feel Joel’s lips on your neck, a sigh spilling from you. His teeth nip at your sensitive skin. “You gotta go?”

Humming, you smooth down your skirt, facing the mirror and observing your reflection, some leftover mascara sticking your eyelashes together. He appears right behind you, his broad frame becoming more visible this way. “Stacy’s throwing up. I have to take her home.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, but I’ll call an uber. It’s no big deal.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips. “I brought my truck. Let me help you.”

Of course he has a truck.

“Joel, you don’t have to,” you massage the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“It’s the least I can do,” tilting his head, his lips catch yours once again. “Consider it my way of thankin’ you, since I cannot return the favor.”

It shouldn’t feel like this. You weren’t used to doing this kind of thing on a regular basis, but you’re more than sure that men don’t treat you this way after sucking them off. Still, you accept his offer since it means you’ll get to spend more time with him.

He walks you out and helps you get Stacy on her feet. As she sees Joel, she spreads her arms wide, hugging him. “Oh my God! It’s the hot dad!”

“Sweetie, you have like— puke all over your clothes,” you tell her, so Stacy chooses to hug you instead. “She gets pretty sensitive when she’s drunk.”

“I can tell,” Joel opens the back door of his truck, jerking his head in the direction of it. “Get her inside while I start the car.”

It all goes pretty well from then on. He asks you for Stacy’s address and you give it to him, the palm of his hand resting on top of your left thigh. Stacy gets comfortable in the back seat, yawning. “You two look like my parents before they got divorced.”

“That’s a really nice compliment,” you mutter with irony as Joel laughs by your side, rubbing his chin.

Soon after that, she falls asleep. Joel parks his car right in front of Stacy’s porsche. He glances over his shoulder, making sure she’s still sleeping before his seatbelt’s off and he’s grabbing you by the jaw, leaning in for a kiss. The fucker’s a very good kisser, you notice throughout the night.

“Are you gonna give me your number?” he murmurs against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours.

“It depends. Will you call me?”

He tells you he will, and you prefer to trust him as you watch him save your number, a smiley face next to your name.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Joel doesn’t call you.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s starting to get to you. He did sound honest. Why the hell did he treat you like that if he wasn’t planning on calling you? Why did he insist so much on getting your number?

Men suck. Joel sucks, you decide after a whole afternoon of staring at your phone, waiting to receive a text from him. Given the situation, anything would make you feel better.

Hey! It’s Joel, from the bar. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I forgot to tell you I’m married and have three children, two cute little puppies and a cat. Anyways, what a great night we had! Take care!

Okay. Perhaps not anything.

You’re home, sitting on the couch while you watch a meaningless TV programme. It consists of answering random questions, and if you get them wrong, you fall down some dark tunnel that only God knows where it takes you.

Normally, during a night like this, you’d be studying or perhaps at Stacy’s. But tonight, your father had asked you to actually stay. He didn’t tell you why he specifically needed you there, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Out of the blue, you hear the doorbell ring. None of your parents seem to be on the first floor, so you walk to the door, opening it.

You choke on your own saliva.

Joel’s here. Joel, who didn’t call you. Joel, who looks absolutely good with his hair slicked back.

“Did I ever tell you where I lived?” the tone of your voice falters, your legs suddenly feeling wobbly.

He can’t believe it either. “No. I must have the wrong address,” keeping his eyes fixated on the box of chocolates dangling from his hand, he straightens his back. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you hiss, your pupils flared with anger. “Why the fuck are you at my house, with a freaking box of chocolates, when you couldn’t bring yourself to call me?”

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s your dad. He contemplates the scene with a smile. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Trust me, my wife and I taught her better manners than this. Don’t know why she didn’t invite you in. Food’s almost ready!”

You’re about to short-circuit. Definitely not a joke.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel Miller. Remember I told you last week that someone from the company was coming over for a while? Well, this is him,” your father chuckles, expecting you to come up any kind of answer.

Joel’s faster than you, intending to shake your hand, those same calloused fingers that he had used to touch you in that dirty bathroom now playing dumb. “Nice to meet you.”

If he wants to pretend you don’t know each other, then so be it.

You squeeze his hand without measuring your strength. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Turns out that your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker were low, but never zero.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

tags: @spurz :)

804 notes · View notes