#have this while i write a longer one-shot hehe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nerdy-novelist017 · 9 months ago

Text

Soaked (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Reader pt 8)

Hello, my lovelies! Sorry this took forever to write and post but I’ve been very busy with real life (ew) and I’m actually posting this while I’m on vacation. I wrote it on the plane and am posting in the car so please be kind if you see any mistakes hehe 😉

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 4.7k+

Summary- Benny’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to marry you, but with such different lives, you’re not so sure it will be as easy as he claims.

You felt the wind surge around you as Benny accelerated down the main road, his motorcycle roaring beneath you both. The world blurred past in a whirlwind of colors, but all you could focus on was the way your heart lifted, how a thrill of excitement shot through you as you zoomed past the rest of the gang. He did it just because he knew it’d make you giggle. And you did, the sound escaping you in a way that felt so carefree, so full of joy especially as you shot past Johnny and the others, leaving them in your dirt.

The wind was relentless, blowing your hair out of its carefully manicured braid, but you didn’t find yourself caring much anymore. The days spent with Benny had a way of shifting everything you thought had mattered. The things that once held so much weight – social status, gossip, public appearances – no longer seemed as important anymore. With Benny, it was almost like discovering a whole new world. No, not a new world. The same streets passed beneath the tires, the same faces you once worried about still existed. The world was still the same, but it was how he viewed it that felt so different. He didn’t care what others thought about him, didn’t pay attention to their expectations. He lived in his own world, surrounded by others like him that didn’t conform to the societal molds – people that you wouldn’t have even approached just based on their appearance. You never considered yourself a very judgemental person, but because of Benny, you have met and befriended people you could have never imagined.

That’s one of the things you loved about Benny. He wasn’t like anyone you had ever met before. He was different. And you were beginning to love that too.

He pulled off the main road, stopping in his signature spot in front of the club house. The roar of the rest of the gang pulling up sounded in the distance as Benny helped you off the bike. He held his grip on your hand, lacing his own fingers through yours as he pulled you gently into the bar. You followed him inside where the Vandals’ laughter and chatter soon filled the air. A familiar buzz of camaraderie enveloped the place, and before long, you found yourself seated around the table with a few of the core members. Benny was close – as always – with his arm draped over your shoulder.

“Hey, Bunny,” Cockroach’s voice cut through the sea of noise as he leaned forward and used his beer bottle to point at you. “When are you finally gonna say yes to our boy Benny, here?”

You stiffened slightly, the weight of the question hanging in the air and drawing the attention of the others at the table.

“Oh yeah,” Corky piped up, one eyebrow playfully cocked in a challenge. “He’s been asking, what, 100 times now? What’s the holdup? He’s not getting any younger, ya know?”

Heat filled your face at their teasing. Though Corky’s words were a bit of an exaggeration, they weren’t technically wrong. Since your kiss behind the clubhouse, Benny has asked you to marry him almost every day, sometimes more than once in a day. It had started by him mentioning married life in casual conversation, and you jokingly pointed out that he hadn’t actually proposed to begin with – not traditionally. And you were shocked to see him abandon everything he was doing in the moment to ask you to marry him. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but something deeper inside you caused your heart to flutter nervously. Since then, he’s asked several times, some in passing, a casual remark slipped into the conversation. Other times, he’d pause what he was doing, drop to one knee and grin up at you as if he were waiting for you to give in. But each time you’d laugh it off, brush it aside as him being unserious.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment?” you replied as you timidly played with the chain of your necklace, trying to deflect the attention.

“The right moment?” Cockroach parroted in disbelief. “He’s been proposin’ left and right for a week. Hell, I’d have said yes after the first time if it were me!”

The group laughed, and you tensed under Benny’s arm, wanting to melt into the floor from embarrassment. Benny squeezed your hand reassuringly, and he leaned, his voice dropping to a low murmur that was only meant for you, “They don’t mean nothin’ by that, you know that.”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He was right, you knew that. They didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the constant razzing – especially with this particular subject – was start to weigh on you.

“Yeah, c’mon, Bunny,” Cal chimed in from across the way, “What’s it gonna take? Benny’s a catch! He’s got the bike, the looks, the . . . mommy’s issues. If you don’t say yes soon, you might lose your chance.”

That playful jab was too much for Benny who stiffened next to you. You expected him to get angry, to blow up like you had seen your father do when he was upset. But instead, Benny leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a playful glint that you had come to adore. The table was buzzing with laughter, but he wasn’t about to let the spotlight stay on you for too long. Without missing a beat, he flashed a grin at Corky, his hand raised as he said, “Alright, alright. But let’s not pretend you all ain’t desperate for a distraction since none of you can keep a bike upright without fallin’ on your asses.”

The table roared with laughter and Corky’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “That was one time! And I had an oil slick!”

Johnny immediately jumped in, “Yeah Corky, an oil slick you created when your bike was leakin’ everywhere.”

Laughter erupted again and you shot Benny a grateful look as the guys started ribbing Corky about his infamous fall. Benny’s eyes met yours briefly, his thumb brushing your hand under the table in a silent message: I’ve got you. Most of the group knew you were shy and did not appreciate being the center of attention in a crowd, and they respected that. However, there were a few class clowns (as Benny called them) who loved to tease you, knowing it could get a reaction without fail. But Benny never let it go on for long, always shutting them down when he recognized your discomfort.

They’ve never teased you about marriage though. You had to wonder if Benny had voiced his irritation to them at some point or if they had picked up on your hesitation organically. Either way, it left you feeling bad. Excusing yourself, you wiggled out of Benny’s grasp as you stood and made your way for the restroom, needing a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But just as you reached the back of the bar, a voice stopped you.

“You ain’t gotta worry about what they say to you,” Funny Sonny stood leaning casually against the bar top as he sipped a glass of whiskey. “That just means they like you, accept you.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at the table of rowdy bikers. “I’m just not . . . used to it. All the teasin’.”

Sonny nodded, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he grinned. “You’ll get used to it. Won’t be long till you’re the one throwing out the first jabs.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious course of action, as if you weren’t from completely different worlds. You furrowed your brows, eyes casting downwards as you admitted, “I’m not so sure about that. I’m not at all like you guys.”

“You don’t gotta be like us to be with us. We’re family here and family means lookin’ out for each other, even the ones who came from different backgrounds,” he said, his voice lowering a register to a bit more of a serious tone.

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, the concept so foreign yet so familiar. Family. You knew what that was, you had one, you were loved by one. But for some reason, it felt like it meant something different with the Vandals. They chose their family, stood by them despite no blood relation. Your parents loved you, you knew that. They showed it in their own ways every day. But by default, they had to love you. With the Vandals, they chose to care for each other, chose to look out for each other. In a way, it almost seemed more powerful, more profound.

Being Benny’s girl didn’t just mean he alone had your best interest at heart. It also meant having the rest of the Vandals on your side too, all of them looking out for you. You weren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced such an intense loyalty before, even from blood relatives. And it left you with a warm feeling in your chest.

When you returned to the table, Benny was already standing as if he were waiting for you. His eyes met yours with a slight unease, almost like he thought you wouldn’t come back, like he thought you were so upset that you’d sneak out the backdoor.

“Wanna go for a night ride?” he asked, his voice soft as his hand extended out for you.

Your heart squeezed at his thoughtfulness. He knew how much you were growing to enjoy the feeling of blazing down the empty streets under a star-filled sky with him. A smile tugged at your lips, and you took his hand without hesitation, nodding.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand slid into his own. You were vaguely aware of the groans and exaggerated protests from the table about the night being still young, but you didn’t hesitate to follow Benny as he led you to the door. He pulled you along to his Harley, the cool and fresh air a welcome change.

The tension from earlier still lingered as Benny’s hand touched your leg, helping you onto the back of the bike. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his back, finding solace in the familiar scent from his jacket.

He drove you around the city, stars and stop lights shining above, engine roaring below. He eventually pulled off the main drag, heading down a quieter road that led out of town. The blacktop blurred beneath you as he slowed the speed to more of a lazy joyride. He took a familiar turn, stopping at the small pull off area before a bridge. The sound of the engine faded as he brought the bike to a stop, the air filling with crickets’ song. The night’s air was breezy, but a welcome change from the hot, loud atmosphere of the clubhouse.

Benny dismounted first, reaching out to help you down. His touch – lingering longer than necessary – against your arm felt electric, sending a jolt of butterflies to your stomach, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to read your thoughts. The two of you walked over the concrete bridge, pausing once in the middle. You leaned over the railing, getting lost in the gentle swirl of the water below. But Benny was lost in the sight of you.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, the usual playful teasing replaced by something softer and reserved only for you.

With your heart beating hard at his gentle tone, you nodded. “I’m fine.”

He frowned, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “I know the guys can be a bit much. I don’t like when they tease you like that. I didn’t mean for them to make you uncomfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his words, knowing that wanting to protect you was something he took very seriously, even if it meant from his own friends, his own family.

“I know,” you responded softly, leaning your chin on your hand over the railing.

“I’ll talk to them, make sure they won’t raz you like that anymore,” he promised, his expression serious.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. It’s a lot to get used to,” you admitted gently. Before Benny, you’d never even been in a bar before, never ridden a motorcycle, never stayed out past curfew. He was a completely different experience than you were accustomed to. And now he wanted you to marry, after only knowing him for a few weeks. He wanted to be your husband, your partner for life. Your life felt like a bit of a whirlwind ever since you met him, but you wanted to be certain it wasn’t just fun because it was new.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes tracing your features, his hand resting over your own. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, something in him conflicted. Finally, he released a soft sigh, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. “You don’t have to answer them, you know. Hell, you don’t have to answer me. Not till you’re ready.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you breathed in his scent – leather, smoke and something uniquely Benny. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I . . . ”

Benny pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Hey, you don’t owe anyone an explanation, not even me. You’ll say yes when you’re ready. And when that time comes, I’ll be here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as it was your turn to kid. “How do you know I’ll say yes?”

Benny’s smile was gentle but still roguishly confident. His hand lingered on your cheek, his fingers tracing down the curve of your jaw as if he were mapping every detail of you. “I just know. When you feel it – when it’s real – you just know.”

He said it so simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if love were the most uncomplicated concept. You didn’t understand that, couldn’t see it that way. You’d seen the love your parents shared and that was beautiful and kind but it was also messy and cruel more often than not. And you understood that your parents were not the only representation of what love and marriage was supposed to be, but it was a constant presence in your life. They didn’t have perfect love, not like what you’d see in the movies or read in books. And you wondered if maybe you were giving too high of expectations for what love was supposed to be, but what you felt when you were around Benny . . . well, it felt exactly like the books described.

The way he looked at you, as if you were the most important thing in the world, made you feel so seen. The way he listened to you as if you were the most entertaining show, made you feel so heard. And the truth was undeniable: you were falling for Benny faster than you thought possible. It was terrifying. Benny was all fire and freedom, a rebel who didn’t play by the rules, who followed his own path with reckless abandon. And you admired that about him, but the thought of stepping into his world permanently felt like stepping off a ledge into the unknown.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asked, pulling you back into the present.

You pulled back slightly, biting your lip in contemplation before speaking your mind, “Don’t you wonder if there are other girls out there that you haven’t even met yet? Girls who are more suited for you?”

He shook his head, his voice light as he said, “Nah, I know you’re the only one for me, kid.”

“But marriage is serious. It’s forever.”

His hand slid down to your hip, turning you to face him fully, his expression solemn. “I never . . . I never thought marriage was real. The way I saw my mom and old man together . . . what they had wasn’t love. And I realized that at an early age. I didn’t think it was something that was real, just a bunch of fairytale bullshit you tell little kids. The girls I’ve been with, girls that may have been more suited for me, have never made me feel what I feel with you, Bunny. This is serious to me too because it proves everything I’ve never believed in.”

Emotion caught in the back of your throat as you pictured the man standing before you as just a boy living in a toxic household, an unloving home. It made you want to hold him tight, to shield him from the rest of the world. The man who held you so gently, who took you for night rides just to cheer you up. The man who came to your bake sale when nobody else did. The man who promised to drive slow so as not to scare you. The man who said he’d follow you all the way to California so that you didn’t have to go by yourself. The man who taught you about his hobbies with eagerness, and listened to yours with attentiveness.

He deserved to be loved in the same way he loved. But the tragic thing was that he didn’t see that, couldn’t comprehend someone loving him like that. He was damaged by his childhood, and you realized that he didn’t think he was worthy of repair. But you’d show him that he was, that he was worthy of everything he never had.

Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently cup his face, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was a shift in his expression – his usual teasing and bravado now replaced with some raw and unguarded as though he was offering you a glimpse into a deeper part of him, one rarely ever shown to anyone.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You’re not just some girl to me, Bunny. You know that, right?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t playing around now, not hiding behind his usual flirty quips. His sincerity was almost overwhelming. You swallowed thickly. “But what if I mess this up? What if I’m the one who can’t do this?”

Benny’s brows furrowed and he lifted a hand to brush across your cheek, his touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

“You’re making it sound so easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn’t quite believe him.

Benny could feel your tremble, the shaky laugh betraying your nerves you were trying so hard to hide. He could sense your heart racing, and he wanted so desperately to be the one to soothe it, to take away the hesitation in your eyes. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the soft curve of it making his heart ache in his chest. He loved how your lips quivered just slightly under his touch. He loved making you blush, loved teasing you until you looked at him like you were annoyed or completely at his mercy. But this . . . this was different. His touch lingered on your lip, slow and almost reverent as he savored the way you responded to him. It wasn’t about teasing anymore – it was about showing you what you meant to him.

“It is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than he intended “It’s easy because it’s you.”

The air between you felt electric as his hand slid down the curve of your neck, his fingers lingering there, feeling the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to match his own wild one. He ducked his head slightly as he whispered, “You’re scared. But you don’t need to be.”

He meant it, more than he meant anything in his life. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, searching for any sign of doubt, any sign that you didn’t feel the same way he did. Your eyes – wide and uncertain – met his, and Benny felt the weight of his words over them both.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your soft voice almost disappearing in the night.

And how could he explain it, especially since he’s never been good at explaining his feelings? How could he put into words what was so abundantly clear to him? That you made everything – even the most outrageous things – seem possible. That with you, he didn’t feel like just some fuck-up waiting for the next diaster. With you he felt grounded, like he belonged somewhere. Like you saw him for more than just the wild, reckless kid everyone else saw.

“Because you make me sure,” he responded with a gentle, encouraging smile as his hands moved to tilt your chin upwards to him. “You make my life feel like it’s supposed to.”

His gaze moved down to your mouth once more as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and he simply couldn’t resist anymore. He closed the gap, brushing his lips so softly against your own. The kiss was gentle, tender, but as you responded to his touch, the need that had been simmering inside him for so long flared to life. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, smiling into the kiss when he heard your slight gasp.

His heart pounded in his chest as the world seemed to fade away briefly until it was just you and him, just this. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let you go.

But you did eventually pull away, the need to breathe becoming all consuming. Breathlessly, he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as he focused on slowing his pulse. His hands remained on your waist, holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“You see?” he whispered as his lips brushing against your forehead softly. “It’s easy being with you.”

You giggled and his heart soared at the melody. It took everything in him not to pull you back into another kiss, not to hold onto you like you were the only thing that kept him grounded.

His lips still tingled from the kiss, and he could taste the faint sweetness of your breath, the softness of your lips. It wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough for Benny. He wanted more of you. He’d never wanted anything like he wanted you, never craved anyone like he craved you. It was almost unbearable, like every second where he wasn’t touching you was a second wasted.

And yet, he knew you were scared. He could see it in the way you looked down at your shoes, could hear it in the timidity of your voice. It only made him want to protect you more, to make you see that being with him would never be something you had to fear. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like he was pushing, without making you feel like you were being rushed into a decision that was as much about you as it was him.

But damn if he didn’t want to make you his.

He opened his eyes and pulled back enough to look at you face again, to really take you in. And my god, the way you were looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes made his chest tighten. And you didn’t even realize how much power you had over him. One look, one smile, and he was a goner.

Before either of you could speak, thunder cracked off in the distance, bringing you both back to the present, back to the rest of the world. You glanced up at the dark clouds that blew in to cover the stars, wondering how long you had stood on this bridge with Benny.

“Guess we should get back,” you said sheepishly.

“Guess so,” Benny replied with a lazy grin as though the storm could come crashing down and he’d still be perfectly content standing here with you.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” you asked as you walked to his bike, glancing up at the thick, dark clouds blowing in from the west.

“Nah,” he said as he swung a leg over the bike with that signature confidence that made your heart race. “We’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

******

By the time Benny pulled up to your house, rain was pouring from the sky like a waterfall, fat and heavy droplets splattering onto the sidewalk. Despite wearing Benny’s Vandals jacket, the rain had completely soaked you. Your hair, which had been meticulously pinned up just hours ago, was plastered to your face, and your dress clung to your body like a second skin.

You didn’t wait for him to shut off the bike before you hopped off and tugged on his sleeve.

“C’mon!” You laughed, tugging on Benny’s sleeve as you ran for the safety of your porch overhang. Your heels splashed through the water pooling on the blacktop, and he followed quickly behind, his warm hands finding your waist to steady you from falling as you both stumbled beneath the overhang.

Breathless and grinning like an idiot, you turned to face him, and you were momentarily stunned by the sight. Rainwater rolled down from his usually swept up hair, sliding down the curve of his cheekbones and falling off his jawline. He only wore a whote t shirt, the wet fabric turning almost transparent as it clung to every ridge, every toned muscle and you blinked before your gaze shot back up to his face. Even as wet as a drowned rat, he still managed to look so effortlessly sexy.

He was grinning at you with that boyish expression, and heat filled your face at the realization that you were just as soaked as he was but definitely not as pretty a sight. You probably looked like a mess — makeup smeared, hair ruined — but he was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Not gonna rain, huh?” you teased, quirking an eyebrow at the heavy rainfall just off your porch.

“Just a light sprinkle,” he returned easily, but you noticed he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Do you wanna come in?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “To dry off?”

He sobered instantly, his gaze raking over your form before moving to your front door. He’d never been inside your house, never seen where you call home, where you lay down at night and replay your memories of him. There was never really an option for him to be inside your house. He’d never met your parents — despite asking multiple times to meet them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put neither your parents nor Benny though that. Deep down, you knew your father would never approve of Benny, never give him his blessing. It was a disaster waiting to happen when he found out that you were dating a biker. You begged your mother to keep it a secret to which she obliged, but you knew it wouldn’t be long till he found out.

Benny took a full step back from you, hesitation obvious in his face, his voice low and almost regretful he said. “I—I better not, Bun.”

Normally, you wouldn’t ask again after being denied, wouldn’t be so bold. But you weren’t the same girl you were a few weeks ago before you met Benny. Emboldened by the perfect opportunity to have him inside your home, to share a piece of yourself with him, you stepped forward.

You took a step forward, your voice soft but sure. “My parents aren’t home. C’mon, just to dry off and wait till the rain lets up a little. You can’t drive in that anyway. It’s not safe and I won’t let you.”

Benny released a breath that sounded a lot like a laugh as he shook his head, clearly conflicted by your invitation. And for a moment, you thought he might shake his head and turn away. You thought he might face the rainstorm and leave you behind.

But instead, he nodded and your heart soared at the small gesture. Filled with hopeful energy, you shot him a smile, moving to open the front door and invite him inside your home, inside your world.

-Tag List-

@beebeechaos @imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @mrsalwayswrite @thedreamingfish99

#i just love a good cliffhanger #Benny is such a lover boy #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #imagine #benny x reader #austin butler fandom #the bikeriders imagine #the bikeriders x you

525 notes · View notes

hayleythesugarbowl · 5 months ago

Note

omigoshh hellooo, I just found your blog and I adore your ian fics!! I also saw that you're taking requests, so can I please have a story ( ? ) request with ian and like a bubbly enthusiastic crew member? she's very sweet and always have a smile on her to make everyone's time at work better <33. but when she's on camera, she's a bit shy especially when on tntl gauntlet! but everyone just loves her like a mom hehe. sorry that this is long, no pressure in writing this btw! love you and your work lovely💕 <3

Roasted || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you, a crew member at smosh, appear on your first TNTL gauntlet and have a surprise for your boyfriend ian

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

a/n: ok so sorry for the delay darling but it’s here! i took this idea and turned it into a full on tntl bit + roast. hope u enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Up next is (Y/n)!”

People clapped as Emily called out from behind the camera.

You walked out from behind the divider, a smile on your face as you approach the six people on the stools.

You had been working at Smosh for nearly a year now, but you had yet to appear on camera. When you had been asked to appear on one of the TNTL Gauntlet episodes with the rest of the crew, you were hesitant but had ultimately agreed.

You looked at your friends waiting for you to begin your bit. Your eyes lingered longer on Ian, your boyfriend of nearly four months. He gave you an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

“Hey guys,” you waved awkwardly, “Wow this is so exciting, I’ve never been on camera before!”

Shayne turned to face the camera from his stool. “(Y/n) is one of our writers and producers, for those of you that don’t know.”

You nodded as Ian said, “And my girlfriend!”

Everyone clapped and you felt yourself blush. “That’s news to me,” you teased.

“(Y/n), you’re making me look bad on camera,” Ian stage whispered.

“Doing that all on your own buddy,” Angela said, patting his shoulder.

Shayne, who had already started to take a sip of water, spit it out, laughing at her comment.

This made Courtney and Damien spit their water out and soon everyone was laughing.

“Ok guys, shut up, let (Y/n) do her bit,” Ian said, nodding at you.

“Ok, dad,” Angela rolled her eyes.

Once everyone had water in their mouth you answered him.

“Funny you should say that Ian,” you said, smiling sweetly as you looked at him.

He raised an eyebrow. You shot him a wink. Now that everyone’s attention was on you, waiting to see what you would do, you were suddenly nervous. You focused on Ian as you continued,

“So, um, as Ian told you, we’ve been dating for a little while now. And so I wanted to make this bit especially for him.”

“Oh my god I can’t wait for this,” Amanda said, around the water in her mouth.

“Since I wasn’t a part Smosh yet when Ian had his funeral,” you continued, still smiling brightly. “I thought I’d take this opportunity to give him my roast.”

Shayne clapped loudly and you looked at everyone’s widened eyes. Ian shook his head at you, eyes smiling.

“Ian don’t worry,” you turned to him. “I’m going to keep it light. I’m not going to say anything offensive or inappropriate—which I know is something you’re not familiar with so let me explain it in terms you’ll understand: 9/11, Columbine, that’s what she said, and something about Luigi Mangione?”

Shayne spit out his water, looking shocked. Ian played along, shrugging. You tucked your hair behind your ears—you were just getting started.

“But Ian isn’t all dark humor and Challenger’s references. As I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve really gotten to see who he really is. Which is some combination of the kid from Toy Story and Jared Bailey if he was depressed and looked like Matt Walsh.”

Everyone else spit their water out now, except for Ian who crossed his arms at you, feigning offense.

“This is so good!” Angela yelled. You continued.

“No, but Ian is amazing. And he’s a really great boyfriend. He’ll tell you that you look gorgeous and give you lots of affection and he’ll make you feel so loved and desired—

You paused for effect.

“—or so Anthony’s told me.”

Ian spit now, laughing with everyone else. “No need to out me like that.”

“This is insane,” Shayne wheezed, wiping his eyes.

“But all jokes aside,” you started. “Ian is really special and he’s contributed a lot to society…and to science. I mean, as the only person to breastfeed until the age of 13, he’s been so useful to so many studies.”

“This,” Amanda said through her laughter, “is actually so crazy.”

“You’re getting owned,” Courtney shoved Ian’s shoulder playfully.

You smiled, feeling encouraged by their laughter and not feeling nearly as nervous as you had at the beginning.

You glanced at Ian. He was shaking his head at you, a proud look on his face.

You cleared your throat.

“And I know everyone likes to give Ian crap for his fashion sense—probably because of the gum-ball machine chic chains and the ‘piña colada threw up on me’ vibes—”

“Hey, that shirt is fire,” Shayne defended.

“Thank you!” Ian exclaimed.

“—but I think Ian does have a good fashion sense. I’m sure all the bi girls are so happy that you stole their style and somehow made it so much more white trash.”

“It’s too real,” Angela said through tears of laughter as Damien blew out an astonished breath.

“What I’m trying to say, Ian,” you said, turning to him. “is that I’m so glad we’re together and I know you would never cheat on me—or at least I think. Last time I asked you about it you just shot yourself with a water gun so I’m not really sure what…”

You trailed off as Ian threw up his hands.

“Anyway,” you said, smiling brightly at Ian as he grinned back at you. “I love you Ian and I can’t imagine my life without you in it and I’ll always want you around—even if Angry Birds 2 didn’t.”

As you finished, the cast on camera and the crew off camera burst into applause and you felt your cheeks warm as you did a little bow.

“Damn,” Shayne cursed once the room had quieted, looking shocked and impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard

(Y/n) say anything bad about someone ever.”

“Ian how do you feel?” Damien asked.

“Yeah my guy, you were just annihilated,” Courtney giggled.

Ian looked at you as he answered them. “I’ve never felt better.”

“Awww,” Amanda cooed, nudging Angela. “They’re weird and in love!”

“Ew,” Angela joked. “That’s mom and dad you’re talking about.”

You laughed, catching Ian’s eye as you walked backwards off the set and back behind the divider.

“Seriously though, that shirt slaps, dude,” you hear Shayne saying as you walk away.

You beamed to yourself. All in all, you’d say your first TNTL was a success.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You found Ian immediately after the episode was finished filming. As you passed people, you were showered with praise and comments about your roast.

It felt good, having your first time on camera go so well. For so long everyone had known you as the shy, quiet type. Always having something kind to say to someone, an encouraging word to offer. It was nice knowing they all now knew this side of you too.

You walked up to Ian, grabbing his hand. “How’d I do?” You asked him.

He leaned in and kissed you. “Mmm, you were perfect. I’m questioning my whole identity.”

“Yeah? I didn’t go to hard on you,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Nah, everything you said was probably true,” he joked in between kisses. “And I love you even more because not only is my girlfriend sweet and caring and incredibly sexy, she’s also insanely funny and one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.”

You smiled against him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He pulled back, his hand trailing down your arm. “Really? I thought I was immature and unstylish.”

“And I love you even more because of it,” you teased.

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

You turned to find Amanda standing behind you. You grabbed Ian’s arm, pulling him close to you as you focused your attention on her.

“Don’t mean to interrupt but—can you write my roast for Angela’s funeral? You’re so good at it and I can’t think of anything that rhymes with ‘drank paint’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ this is me manifesting an angela (and arasha and chanse and spencer and trevor) funeral roast 🧘‍♀️

#ian hecox #ian hecox x reader #smosh #smosh imagine #smosh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

244 notes · View notes

verstappenf1lecccc · 4 months ago

Note

Hellooooo i love your writing so so much and i wanted to see if i could request something :3

Max being completely in love with reader since he first saw her when he joined F1, she is besties with an F1 driver (if possible Checo, because i love him so) so she constantly attends races. And when Checo joins redbull Max is losing his mind because reader spends a lot of time with the team and is always cheering for RB. But when he finally gathers the courage to ask her out it turns out that reader has been in a relationship for quite a while with another driver (Lewis?). You can choose if this has a happy ending or not (hehe i know you love some angst). Anyways, thank u in advance!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Haven’t I given enough

you said angst and the ending being up to me?? 3940 words buckle up this is intense. if you are ever in a situation like this please don’t hesitate to reach out and get help and always remember you are enough!!

tw-: emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts, suicide, abusive relationship

Max Verstappen had always kept his feelings for you hidden, tucked away deep inside where no one could see them. His focus was always on racing, on winning, on being the best. But that didn’t mean his feelings for you were any less real. Every time he saw you, whether you were laughing with Checo in the garage or talking to the crew, it felt like his heart beat a little faster.

You were always there for the team, always cheering them on with that infectious smile of yours. But Max couldn’t shake the way you made him feel. You made him feel something more, something that wasn’t just about racing, something raw, real. The problem was, Max had kept his distance. He didn’t want to complicate things. You were Checo’s best friend.

You were also with Lewis, the man everyone thought you were happy with.

And so, Max kept it buried.

Max Verstappen had always buried his emotions deep inside. He was used to shutting them out, focusing solely on racing, on winning. But there was something about you that changed him, even when he didn’t want to admit it.

Every glance you shot him, every smile you gave him, tore at his heart. You were the kind of person that made everything feel brighter, even when the world around you was dark. But you were with Lewis. TheLewis Hamilton. The man who had everything. The man who seemed perfect in every way.

You were his.

Max watched helplessly, unable to do anything but be on the sidelines as you lost pieces of yourself to the toxic relationship you had with Lewis. He could see it in the way you shrank under his harsh words, the way your smile faded, how you walked on eggshells, always trying to please him, trying to live up to an impossible standard.

But it was never enough.

Each time Max saw you with Lewis, it was like watching a light slowly die. You were no longer the radiant person he had met. You were broken piece by piece under the weight of Lewis’s cruel words. Max could see it. He could feel it in the air. But nothing could stop the train wreck of your relationship. You were in too deep.

One night, after a disastrous race, Max overheard a conversation between you and Lewis. He wasn’t supposed to hear it, but the words cut through the air like knives.

Lewis stood in front of you in the hotel suite, his posture tense, his jaw clenched with anger. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he spat, his voice venomous. “I work my ass off to keep us on top, and what do I get from you? Nothing.”

You recoiled, shrinking back from him, eyes wide with fear. “I—I’m sorry, Lewis. I’ve been trying, I promise. I just—”

“No,” Lewis interrupted, his voice rising. “You’re trying to get his attention, aren’t you? Max’s? You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know what’s going on when you look at him like that?” He sneered, his hands balling into fists. “You’ll never be good enough for me. You’re just a distraction. You always have been. You’ll never live up to the woman I need by my side. You can’t even keep up.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t say anything.

“Get out of my sight,” Lewis snapped. “You’re lucky I even tolerate you. You make me look weak with your useless, pathetic attempts. I need someone who’s perfect. Not some broken little girl who can’t even handle the pressure.”

The words stung, not just because they were cruel, but because they were true in Lewis’s eyes. You were nothing but a disappointment to him, and he made sure you felt it every damn day.

Max stood there, frozen, his heart breaking with every word that Lewis spat. He had always known that something was wrong, but hearing it laid bare was another level of pain altogether. He wanted to run to you, to pull you away from that toxic environment, but you were already too far gone and went willing to accept any help. You were so deep in it that you couldn’t even see the damage it was doing.

In the following weeks, things got worse. You became a shadow of yourself, constantly apologizing for things you didn’t do, shrinking whenever Lewis looked at you with that cold, disappointed gaze. It was clear to Max that your mental health was deteriorating. You barely smiled anymore, and when you did, it was a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

One night, after a particularly heated argument with Lewis, Max found you sitting alone in the garage. The chaos of the race weekend had faded, but you were still there, staring blankly at the empty cars.

“Hey,” Max said softly, sitting beside you. He wanted to reach out, to comfort you, but the words felt like they would fail him. He knew the damage was already done.

You didn’t respond at first. You just stared straight ahead, your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective posture. After a long silence, you spoke, your voice barely audible.

“Why does he hate me, Max? Why does he always make me feel like I’m not enough?” You choked on the words, tears streaming down your face as your shoulders shook with quiet sobs. “I try so hard. I give him everything, and it’s still never enough. I’m just a failure.”

Max’s heart shattered. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t a failure, that you were enough, but the words felt hollow. You wouldn’t believe them. He could see that. He had no power to fix the broken pieces of you. But he couldn’t leave you like this.

“You’re more than enough,” Max snapped, his voice suddenly raw with emotion. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. The frustration, the anger, the ache he had been hiding it all came flooding out. “You’re everything, okay? You’ve always been enough. You’ve always been enough for me.”

But you just shook your head, the tears falling faster now, as though they had been dammed up for too long. “I don’t know how to be strong anymore. I don’t know who I am. I’ve lost myself trying to be someone I’m not, and I can’t go back.”

Max felt his throat tighten. He wanted to kiss away the pain, to hold you and promise you that things would get better, but he knew deep down that there was nothing he could do. You were already lost in your fight with yourself.

The relationship with Lewis continued to deteriorate. Every interaction with him was more toxic than the last. He belittled you, criticized you, and made you feel worthless. Every fight, every cruel comment chipped away at your self-worth. You were drowning.

Max watched it all, powerless. He tried to be there for you, but you were retreating further into yourself. And then, one day, it happened.

It was after another argument with Lewis, one that had been particularly vicious. Max had seen the way Lewis had grabbed your wrist, the way he shoved you against a wall in a fit of anger. You looked smaller and smaller every day. Max tried to intervene, but Lewis was quick to shut him down.

“Stay out of it, Max. You don’t know her like I do,” Lewis sneered.

That night, you couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of the years of verbal and emotional abuse finally broke you. Alone in the dark, the suffocating pressure, the fear, and the pain it all became too much to bear.

You were dead the following morning.

Max arrived at the hotel for a race weekend, excited to see you. But when he knocked on your door, no one answered. He knocked again, growing more worried. Something felt off. Max didn’t wait. He used the spare key and entered.

What he saw shattered him beyond words.

You were lying on the floor, cold, your lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The pain in your face was enough to crush anyone’s soul. Max’s breath caught in his throat as he rushed to you, shaking you gently, but there was nothing.

He knew. He knew it was too late.

The investigation that followed confirmed what Max had already feared. You had taken your own life. The toxic relationship, the pressure to be perfect, the constant emotional abuse it had all been too much. And it was Lewis’s cruel words that had driven you to this point.

Max was shattered. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t understand how the person he loved had been taken away so cruelly, so senselessly. He blamed himself. He blamed Lewis. And he hated himself for not doing more, for not getting through to you sooner.

The news of your death hit the F1 world hard. It sent shockwaves through the paddock, and everyone knew what had happened and how toxic and abusive Lewis had been toward you. The whispers of his cruelty filled the air, but it was too late. You were gone, and Max was left with nothing but the crushing weight of his love for you and the guilt that would haunt him forever.

He would never forgive himself for not saving you. And as for Lewis? He was left isolated. No one in the F1 community could look at him the same way again. His toxic words, his control, and his manipulation had all led to your death, and there was no coming back from that. He was consumed with guilt, but it didn’t matter. You were gone. And no apology, no regret, could change that.

Max left the F1 world, unable to continue racing knowing that you were no longer there. His heart had been shattered, and he had lost the one person who had ever made him feel anything more than just a driver.

In the end, Max’s love for you was never enough. And the world would never be the same without you.

The months following your death felt like a never-ending cycle of pain for Max. He could feel the weight of your absence in every corner of his life. Every victory, every race, every moment of fame he had ever dreamed of, it all felt hollow. You had been his constant, the one person who made him feel alive beyond the racetrack. And now, you were gone.

But what cut him the deepest was the indifference from the one person who should have felt your loss just as deeply. it was Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was the man you had been with before, the one who had gotten under your skin, the one who had promised you things he never intended to keep. But instead of showing any kind of remorse after your death, Lewis had moved on like nothing had happened. He continued racing, continued his life as if he didn’t just lose the person who had once meant everything to him.

Max couldn’t understand it. He saw the way Lewis spoke about you behind closed doors, how he belittled you, how he acted like you were nothing but a distraction. But after your passing? Lewis never took responsibility for the toxic environment he had created for you. In fact, he kept going, acting like it was you who had been the problem all along.

Max was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He had stayed quiet for months, biting his tongue, letting the pain consume him. But the anger? That was building slowly, steadily. Every time he saw Lewis’s smug face, every time he heard him laugh with the same confidence, as if he were a footnote in his life, it made Max’s blood boil.

The tipping point came one night, during a private event in the paddock. Max had been watching from a distance as Lewis interacted with the media and the crowd, and it was as though nothing had changed. Max’s hands were clenched at his sides as he stood there, his chest tight. He had to confront Lewis. He had to say something. For you. For him.

Max found Lewis standing alone by his car, looking at his phone. He looked up and smiled when he saw Max approach. “Oh, Max, what’s up?” Lewis asked, too casually, like the world was still spinning normally.

Max could feel his patience wearing thin. He took a deep breath, pushing down the urge to lash out immediately. But then Lewis said something that pushed him to the edge.

“I don’t know why people are still talking about her, honestly,” Lewis said with a shrug, his voice tinged with annoyance. “She was just too… fragile. I told her the pressure was too much. She couldn’t handle it, and she never would have.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, his stomach twisting with disgust. It was the same tone, the same arrogance, as if you had been nothing but an inconvenience to him. And now that you were gone, he was still blaming you.

Max took one step forward, his jaw clenched. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

Lewis cocked his head, still looking unfazed. “What? You’re still upset about her? Man, get over it. She couldn’t handle the life. She wasn’t cut out for it. You saw that, didn’t you?”

Max’s hands trembled with rage. “She was the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he spat. “She was more than you ever deserved. You used her, Lewis. You manipulated her and made her feel like she was never enough. And now that she’s gone, you still have the nerve to act like it’s her fault?”

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. “You’re really blaming me for this? Maybe if she had been a little stronger, she would still be here.”

Max felt a wave of fury wash over him, but it wasn’t just anger anymore. It was sadness, deep and painful. The words you had heard from him, the things he had said to you that had crushed your spirit, were all coming back. Max’s heart ached, but more than that, it broke for you. You had never deserved this. And now, even in your absence, Lewis was still tearing you down.

“I can’t stand it,” Max muttered, his voice barely audible but full of raw emotion. “You really think you can just walk away, act like she was nothing? You’re still doing it, even now.”

Lewis looked at him, unfazed. “She wasn’t good enough for me, Max. You know that. I’m sorry if you’ve got a soft spot for her, but it’s the truth. She was just a chapter that didn’t work out.” He gave Max a smirk. “It’s a shame. But hey, life goes on.”

Max took a few steps forward, his face tight with anger. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to keep doing this. She was good enough. And you will never be able to erase her memory like that.”

The frustration and hurt finally bubbled to the surface. Max, exhausted from the anger, took a deep breath. “You never cared about her. She was always just a trophy to you. You never cared enough to be the man she needed.”

Max’s eyes were filled with a fierce intensity as he stood there, glaring at Lewis. “You didn’t deserve her, and you’ll never understand just how much you ruined her.” His voice dropped into a low whisper. “You broke her, and now you act like none of it matters.”

Lewis didn’t respond. He simply rolled his eyes and gave Max a dismissive wave. “Get over it, Max. She’s gone, and it’s not my fault.”

That was the moment. Max snapped. The anger that had been simmering for months, the deep ache of knowing that the person he had loved had been destroyed, came to a head. He couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

Max grabbed Lewis by the collar, pushing him hard against the car. His breath was shallow, and his heart pounded in his chest. “You’re a coward, Lewis,” he growled. “You killed her, and you won’t even own up to it. You couldn’t handle her, and you never even tried. You’ll never know how lucky you were to have had someone like her in your life.”

Lewis’s expression didn’t change. His smug smile remained, even as Max held him against the car. “Let go of me, Verstappen. You’re making a scene. You think she was some saint? She wasn’t. She was weak. You think you’re any better for her than I was?”

Max’s face turned crimson with anger. “You never understood her. You never saw her the way I did. You were always too busy with yourself to see what you had.”

Max’s anger simmered, but as he stepped back, he realized that there was no point in pushing Lewis any further. The man in front of him was still the same self-absorbed, indifferent, and too proud to see the damage he had done. Max had always tried to understand him, always thought there was some honor there. But now, with everything laid bare, Max saw just how deep the selfishness ran.

“You’ll never get it, will you?” Max asked quietly, his voice thick with sorrow. “You’ll never understand just how much she gave, how much she sacrificed for you.”

Lewis smirked, unfazed. “She made her choices. She wasn’t perfect, and neither was I. You think you’re better than me now? You think you have the right to judge?”

Max clenched his fists, fighting the urge to lash out. His heart was breaking, not just for the woman he had loved, but for the realization that some people, no matter how much they wished they would change, never would.

“I’m done, Lewis,” Max said, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was speaking to himself. “I’m done with all of this. Done with racing. Done with trying to make sense of any of it.”

He turned away, not even waiting for Lewis’s response. There was nothing left to say. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all that had been lost.

It was a decision Max had been avoiding, but now there was no denying it. The pain was too much. The sport he had once loved, the life that had once filled him with purpose, no longer mattered. Your death had shattered something inside him, and he couldn’t continue to race in a world where your memory was constantly being tainted by people like Lewis. The excitement of the track, the cheers from the fans, the trophies it all felt hollow now.

Max officially announced his retirement from Formula 1 shortly after that night. The news sent shockwaves through the racing world. Fans were stunned, media outlets speculated endlessly, but no one could truly understand the weight of Max’s decision.

Behind the cameras and the flashing lights, Max found himself living in a numb state, haunted by your absence. Every time he walked past the places where you had laughed, where you had cheered him on, it felt like he was being suffocated. The memories were both his comfort and his torment. He could still hear your voice in his mind, feel your touch, and see your smile. But you were gone

He distanced himself from everyone. The thought of facing the world without you by his side was unbearable. Racing had been his entire life, and now it had been stripped away. He wasn’t the same person. How could he be?

Weeks passed, and the press buzzed about Max’s sudden exit from Formula 1. Some speculated about his mental state; others assumed it was a temporary break. But Max knew deep down that he would never go back. Racing didn’t feel right without you.

Lewis, on the other hand, had gone on with his life as if nothing had changed. He continued his career, continued his public image, and continued to race with the same smugness that had always followed him. But Max saw through it now. The facade was crumbling, and it was clear that Lewis had never cared.

Max didn’t reach out to anyone in the racing community. He isolated himself, letting the grief consume him. The pain of losing you was overwhelming, but even worse was the realization that the man who had once been so important to you had turned his back on everything you had given him. The man who had pushed you down when you needed support was still running the race, living the life he had always wanted, pretending as though you had never mattered.

Max couldn’t let that happen. He would not let Lewis continue as though he had done nothing wrong. He would make sure everyone knew the truth.

Max sought out the media one last time. He didn’t want the attention, but he knew that this was the only way to truly honor you and make sure your story was heard the way it should have been. In a small press conference, he spoke with an intensity that had never been seen before. The reporters, stunned by his emotional state, were silent as he spoke.

“Everyone wants to know why I left the sport,” Max began, his voice steady but full of raw emotion. “The truth is, I’m not here for the glory anymore. I’m not here for the trophies. I’m not here for the fame or the fans. I’m here because we lost someone who was more important than any of that. I left because the sport, the world it wasn’t the same without her.”

He paused, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She was kind and loving, and she gave everything she had for the people she loved. But most of all, she deserved better than what she got from some people. You know who you are.”

Max’s eyes burned with the intensity of his words as he stared straight into the cameras.

“I’m not going to let anyone forget who she was. I won’t let her be erased. And I won’t let people like Lewis Hamilton pretend they didn’t play a part in how she ended up. You all should’ve seen it. I saw it. She wasn’t perfect, but she was real. And she deserved so much better.”

The reporters were silent, stunned by the rawness of his confession. Max’s words hung in the air, his pain visible to everyone who was listening. He was finally letting the world know the truth: you were more than just a casualty in a toxic relationship. You were a person, a human being who deserved love, who deserved to be seen, and who had been taken too soon.

Max’s voice wavered as he finished, “I’m not doing this for her anymore. I’m doing it for me. And I won’t stop until people know who she really was.”

With that, Max turned and walked away, leaving behind a world that had never truly understood him, but more importantly, a world that had never understood you.

Max never returned to racing. His heart had left the sport the moment you had left his life. And with every passing day, the grief didn’t get easier. It just became something he had to carry with him, a weight that he would never be able to shed.

But he would never let your memory fade. Even in the silence of his own life, Max would always carry your spirit with him. And while he may have lost everything, one thing was certain: he would always love you, no matter what.

161 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 2 years ago

Note

Gojo x wifey reader request! :D They are both training and wifey does something that surprisingly turns Gojo on

Hehe this request is everything, that was soo fun to write! Let me know what you think <3

Gojo getting flustered by his sweaty wife and smacked at their training session

Pairing: husband!Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: Your beloved husband never fails to beat you without mercy when training together. But this time, something seems to catch his eye - your chance to finally hit him with your best shot.

Warnings: not that much plot, but a lot of comedy, it's also fluffy with slight mentions of smut, a little bit of heat hehe, enjoy

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3

„Good morning beautiful“, Satoru’s sleep drunken voice mutters in your ear, making your eyes flutter open against the soft daylight.

“Is it already morning?”

You stretch your sleepy limbs out in his inviting arms with pleasure, enjoying the warmth of his body heat for just a little longer. Oh, how much you love waking up next to your husband in the morning. Despite you hate getting up early, feeling his strong arms while you wake up seems like a reparation for that.

“Not a random morning, today is training day!”, your husband announces, placing himself on top of you with one swift motion of his huge body.

You giggle uncontrollably underneath him, trying to shield yourself from the endless kisses he attacks you with.

“What does that even mean?”, you laugh out, tears already stinging in your eyes.

You look so breathtakingly beautiful underneath him with little chuckles escaping your lips and your gorgeous eyes wet from joy. Satoru will always be thankful for the day you decided to be his, for the day he was finally able to call you his wife. What a privilege it is to wake up next to you, how lucky he is to hold you in his arms, to see you even at work.

“That you and I’ll be training together today. Hope you’re ready to get your ass beaten”, he teases you.

“So sure of yourself, huh? You might be the strongest, but I can make you look weak like a baby”, you purr back, hands holding onto his broad chest.

“We’ll see. Ooopsie, you’re gonna be late. Better get going my love”, he hushes against your ear, making your eyes widen in shock.

Fuck, is it already this late? As much as you hate to admit it, but it seems like you’ve already adjusted to Satoru’s bad habits like always being late and leaving your socks laying on the floor. As fast as you can you roll over the bed, putting on your uniform so hastily that you bottom it up the wrong way. You have a lesson this morning with the first years. How can you tell Yuji over and over to be on time when you’re late yourself the next day? You need to hurry up, maybe you’ll be punctual.

“See you later”, you breathe against your husband’s cheek along with a kiss before storming out of your shared apartment as fast as you can.

-the training session-

“Better get going or you’ll be late”, you warn your students while walking past them.

“Where the hell is she going this motivated?” Nobara questions, looking after her teacher as if she’s seen a ghost.

“Training with Gojo-sensei”, Megumi explains briefly.

“Maybe you’ll be as good as her if you start training more, Nobara”, Yuji comments with a small smile.

“What does that mean, huh? I’m already training hard!”

“Oh…really?”

“Oh, there you are. I already waited.”

Your heartbeat picks up in an instant when your hungry gaze meets him, the sheer presence of his voice overpowering the mumbling of your students entirely. He’s still in his uniform, sitting on the edge of the training field with his long legs stretched out just the way you like it. Oh, why does your husband have to be not only the strongest, but also this attractive on top of it? This won’t be an easy training session, that’s for sure.

“Well, some of us have to work earlier than others”, you tease him, watching as he lifts himself up and now towers over your frame.

He’s so close you’d be able to touch him, so close that the possibility to caress his chest with the tips of your fingers becomes almost unbearable. Focus, you are at work. Nobody at Jujutsu High knows that Satoru Gojo is in fact your husband. Oh, moments like that definitely make you question keeping your relationship private.

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Are you somehow distracted?” he questions all innocently, teasing you through the shade of his sunglasses so skilled that your knees go weak.

“Not at all. Just thinking about how I’ll beat your ass.”

“Is that so, huh?”

He comes closer. Just a few inches, but certainly enough to let your mind wander. How much being alone with your husband sounds like heaven itself right now.

“Show me, then. And hope I don’t beat yours like I always do”, he hushes.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

Your cheeks redden instantly, eyes darting around the area. Oh god, if someone heard that…He has some nerve, talking to you like that while standing at the training area where everyone can watch and listen.

With fast steps, you walk over the large field, putting some distance between you and your husband. You will make him pay for every little dirty word coming out his mouth, one way or another.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?” you shout over, letting your katana glide from one hand to another.

“As you wish.”

He is neck breaking fast, rapid movements way too fast to be caught by your eyes. Just before his fist slams into your body you are able to let yourself fall into a split, aiming to sweep him off his feet.

“Nice try sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that”, you warn him, aiming for a hit with your blade.

Hopeless. Everything looks so easy when he does it, escaping your every hit without even trying hard.

“I hate training with you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Sweat runs down your forehead like a waterfall, eyes desperately trying to focus on his figure. Damn, how is he so rapid? He even shoved his hands in his pockets, how rude. And why the hell does he take off his glasses right now?

“Fuck”, he mumbles to himself, eyes roaming all over your body.

You look like a mess, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead, uniform now completely covered in dirt, panting hard while waiting for his next move.

Why is he suddenly so turned on?

Before he can help himself, his feet carry him towards you, widen eyes looking up at him with oh so sweet confusion sparkling in them. What is on your mind? Are you as flustered as he is? God, you look even better from near, pieces of grass sticking to your face like glue.

“Are you trying to distract me? I know your dirty tricks, this isn’t working”, you huff.

You look you beautiful with your skin glistening in the harsh sunlight on this random summer day. When is this training session finally over? Are you free after it? The things he wants to do to you, things he always held back when being at Jujutsu High. After all, it is best for your relationship to be private, it is best keeping a certain distance at Jujutsu High.

The way your sharp and fast breath hangs in the air between both of you makes him lose his mind completely. Before he can stop himself, he lunges himself straight towards you, ready to kiss you with so much passion that it’ll take your breath away, ready to give you a real reason to sweat.

You smack him.

Hard.

Flat hand against his cheek.

Satoru can’t believe what just happened, rubbing his aching skin while staring down at your confident smile.

“Your dirty tricks don’t work for me, Sir!” you shout out self-assuredly.

There he stands, completely bamboozled while you begin to happy dance because you hit him.

Because you slapped him. Hard.

“I was about to kiss you, idiot”, he barks at you.

“Don’t talk yourself out of that. I was definitely able to hit you”, you remark.

Satoru has to close his eyes for a second, needs to stop the pounding in his pants. You are really something else.

“Just wait until we get home”, he mutters into your ear.

How much you love to mess with him. It isn’t hard to notice the enormous bulge in his uniform, how flustered he looks all of the sudden. After all, the man standing in front of your eyes is none other than your husband-

Your horny husband.

You aren’t exactly sure what made him feel this way. A little flirting was never enough to sweep someone like Satoru Gojo off his feet. Are you somehow exposed? Did he see something he shouldn’t? You look down on your body, uniform sitting just as it should.

Huh. Who knows what’s on his mind. As much as your mouth waters by the delicious sight of him, how much your body pushes you to close the distance between your bodies, you have to keep your composure. This isn’t the place for the things your husband currently thinks about.

“I’m definitely looking forward it. But for now, get yourself together. We still have a workout to do”, you reply with a sly grin, brushing over his arm ever so slightly.

1K notes · View notes

christopherisfoive · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii I want to request a prompt for chan

Would you mind doing prompts 4, 14 and 16 together for chan? Hehe thank youu, but if you don’t want to it’s always fine too!

Love you byeee

Order up! ☕✨

Jealous glare, three days of tension, one messy confession—more “medium-burn” than slow, I’ll admit. Still packs a punch. Thanks for the prompt; come back if you want something that smolders longer. Also is the length okay? For one shots I try not to make them too too long but if you guys like them that way let me know! Getting through more requests. My inbox is very packed ty ty guys!

☕ Love and Other Stupid Disasters

Jealousy that turns into something more | Enemies to lovers tension | “I hate how much I love you

Day 1 The Usual Annoyance

You are wiping fingerprints off the front counter when the bell above the door chirps.

No need to look up. Only one person strides in like he owns the oxygen.

“Medium black,” Bang Chan announces, dropping his elbows onto the still-damp counter.

“Maybe today you’ll spell my name right, gorgeous?”

You drag a fresh cup over and scrawl without glancing up.

Chris pratt.

Chan clicks his tongue. “Creative slander, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you deadpan. “Delusions of grandeur pair nicely with burnt beans.”

He grins like a wolf, swipes two stir sticks, and flicks them across the surface so they skitter into your rinse tub.

A petty little victory.

You answer with a sugary smile and an eye roll big enough to see from space.

Neither of you notices the regulars filming your silent comedy on their phones.

Day 2 Sharper Edges

Chan is early. Cockier. Louder.

“Miss me?” “Like food poisoning.”

He leans so close you can smell detergent and rain on his hoodie.

You pretend not to breathe him in. He pretends not to watch your cheeks heat.

Chris provolone lands on his cup today. He laughs outright, tells you the pun is lactose intolerant.

You flip him off behind the pastry case. A barista snorts. Customers whisper. Exactly the kind of attention neither of you claims to want.

Day 3 The Smiley

It’s late when a flirty stranger appears. Handsome, harmless, tipping too much.

You laugh at his bad joke, draw a tiny 🙂 next to Paul and slide the latte across.

The café could have imploded from the way Chan’s smile falls.

He collects his black coffee without a word. Paper creaks under his grip. His shoulders are stone as he exits. Your stomach drops so hard you miss the register beeping.

Day 4 Silence

No Bang Chan. No bickering. No stir sticks skittering.

The shift is only six hours, but it stretches like taffy in your chest.

Day 5 Frostbite

Chan reappears in the doorway, hoodie up, unreadable.

“Medium black.”

You set a plain cup on the bar.

He doesn’t peek at the name. He doesn’t tease. He simply pays and leaves.

No seat by the window, no lingering glance.

Your heart ricochets around your ribs while the door swings shut behind him.

Day 6 The Echo

He’s back, but worse. Polite, detached, professional.

You answer in the same frosty tone. Your voices are knives wrapped in linen.

You nearly write Chris provolone—stop, scribble nothing.

He doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to.

You wipe the counter long after he’s gone, chasing a stain that isn’t there.

Day 7 The Heart

Closing shift. Lights dim. Chairs stacked. You sit alone, marker tapping against your thumbnail. Your chest feels stretched, thin, empty.

A clean cup. A shaky hand. A single heart, tiny, desperate. Drawn where a name should be.

You tuck it beneath the register and hope you haven’t lost your mind.

Day 8 Breaking Point

Chan arrives right before lock-up. Hoodie down. Eyes ringed by sleepless nights.

You slide the heart cup toward him, fingers trembling. He stops, reads the silent apology. Something breaks behind his eyes.

For the first time in days he heads to the window seat and waits.

The café empties. Lights dim to after-hours amber. Your pulse thunders while you bolt the door and cross the floor.

The Argument

You sit, arms crossed. “Silent treatment and melodrama. Original.”

“Jealousy looks melodramatic from the outside,” he mutters.

“It was a smiley face. Grow up.”

“Easy for the barista of the year. I was just another caffeine fix.” Chan plays with the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding eye contact.

He spins the cup; the little heart blurs in circles.

“You think I only noticed you because you’re loud?”

“Did you? Because it sure looked like you had smiles to spare, just never for me.”

Anger flares, sharp, defensive, terrified.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy acting untouchable...”

“Maybe if caring about you didn’t feel like self sabotage...”

He half-stands, chair scraping, voice cracking.

“I hate it, Y/N. How much you matter. I hate how much I—” He swallows, fists curled white around the paper cup. “I hate how much I love you,” Chan says, voice hoarse.

The Collapse

Air leaves your lungs. You stand, shoving your chair back. He mirrors you, hoodie strings wrapped around his fists like lifelines.

“You’re an idiot,” you say with a tiny smile.

“Yours, though?”

It’s not a plea. It’s a confession in four syllables.

You grip the strings, yank him forward, crash your mouth onto his.

The kiss is ugly. Teeth clack, noses bump, breathless and wet with unshed tears.

His hands frame your jaw, thumbs trembling. Your fingers fist in soft cotton like you’ll drown without him.

When you part, foreheads pressed together, both shaking, you finally breathe:

“Tomorrow I’m drawing the worst Chris Pratt you’ve ever seen.”

Chan laughs, half sobbing. “Make it a masterpiece. I’m keeping the cup.”

You stay there long after the lights time out, two silhouettes tangled in a mess of love and leftover anger— and for the first time all week, the café feels right again.

80 notes · View notes

luviisabella · 7 months ago

Note

hii! This is my first time requesting from you! I absolutely adore your writings, they’re so cute! ANYWAYY my request is katsuki x male reader with a dog quirk that gives them a tail and ears and the reader has a golden retriever personality type and basically katsukis making fun of him for running late, hair messy, tie not done properly, the whole shabang. He’s like “damn do you not know how to tie a tie?” And the reader (without thinking) goes “nope.” and KATSUKI DOES HIS TIE FOR HIM?!?! but that’s not all (I feel like an evil villain hehe) katsuki sees his tail wagging!!! omg this is so long but I can’t get this idea out of my head and I’m too lazy to write it ‼️‼️

— 🐾 annon

Ooh I love this concept, so sorry for the late response ml !! 🫶🏽🫶🏽 However the dog quirk is a great idea, love love love animal quirks <3

For Anon: Male Reader x Katsuki Bakugou

Category: Fluff + Universty AU 💘

[7:35am]

Where the hell is he.

Bakugou was watching the time go by and noticing how you were yet to be seen. Class had started 35 minutes ago and you usually were never late.

[8:20am]

“Alright, I’m going to take a break. Don’t destroy anything while I’m sleeping or I’ll have all of you taking a remedial class.” Mr. Aizawa never failed to come up with an outrageous punishment for his students, even now in university.

Bakugou glanced at the clock one more time before scoffing and getting up. Sero wanted to ask where he was headed but judging by the look on Bakugou’s face, Sero decided to value his life and dignity.

Once Bakugou turned the corner of the hall he ran into someone.

“All this space in the God damn hallway and you can’t-“ he looked down and noticed it was you. You looked like a mess.

Your breathing was frantic, hair sticking up like a compass in all directions. Your tie could’ve been put on backwards and your shirt was half tucked into your pants and half not.

Bakugou didn’t even know where to start with questions.

“You look like shit. What happened ?”

“My alarm.. I accidentally set it for 6:30pm and not am so I woke up like 20 minutes ago” your ears were facing down and your tail sunk. It was clear you rushed to get here and in the process made no effort to notice your appearance.

“Jesus. At least look alive.”

He stepped closer to you and began adjusting your tie. You felt your tail quirk up and immediately shoved it down, keeping your hands behind your back.

You couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. He was so focused on your tie and your shirt you didn’t realize how beautiful he was until you really got a good look at him.

Your tie and shirt were not adjusted but that hair.

“A tornado pick you up on the way here ?” He grinned and you turned your head in embarrassment not realizing your hair looked that bad. He gently placed his hands on certain strands to make it look more decent.

In response, your ears shot up and now your tail wagging back and forth. You were too in awe to realize it, at least not until he pointed it out.

His eyebrow quirked up. “You excited or sum ?” He asked but didn’t stop fixing your hair.

“What ?”

“Your tail’s movin”

You felt your face heat up like a star when he pointed it out. You looked down, no longer wanting to meet his gaze.

“Sorry, that happens when I’m happy or excited”

“Really ?” And he pulled back after taking in your appearance. A small grin on his face.

—

“Looks like your gonna have to come in late more often then” and with that he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Thank God he did because the way your tail stood on its end and your ears perked up, someone would think you just won a million bucks.

And let’s just say...

This was not the last time you showed up late.

I hope you enjoyed this my love !! Again sorry for such a late reply but I did enjoy this concept sm, I honestly kind of want to write something separate about a quirk like this, Thank you for the ask, mwah !! 🫰🏽💖

141 notes · View notes

ljaylmaoo · 8 months ago

Text

🎃Kinktober day 3- Wet Dreams🎃

Hook x fem!reader 18+

UNEDITED

warnings: SMUT, fluff?, overstimulation, whiny hook, riding, oral (m receiving), creampie (please use condoms), etc probs

a/n: hey so funny story, I queued this to post at 11:59 pm but didn’t know it was for tmr/today 😭 so sorry about that, I haven’t read over this completely so again, sorry if it’s shit, anyways ENJOY! I literally cannot look him in the eyes after writing this, so here’s a picture of him staring into your soul hehe

word count: 1.7k

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ripping you out of your slumber is one of the worst things someone could do to you. You loved sleep, and it didn’t matter when, how, or why, if someone woke you up, you’d quite literally throw a tantrum (some thought worse). You got cranky like a toddler if you haven’t had at least two naps in and every one of your friends knew that. Especially your boyfriend. So knowing that, James was silently panicking as he was torn with the decision if he should wake you up or not when he felt you grinding against him in your sleep while moaning. He knew you weren’t able to sleep a lot today because you didn’t have him around much at all, so now that you were finally able to sleep once you were back in his arms, he really didn’t want to have to wake you up. When he first got woken up it was when you snuggled your backside deeper into him which wasn’t new and he only pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you. But not long after he fell back asleep, he woke up again to you letting out a moan while shifting around in your sleep. He thought nothing of it at first. Until he heard his name come out of your mouth in the same whiny tone he’s heard way too many times before. He quickly lifted his head in confusion as he peered down at you who was still fast asleep.

From the tiredness that clouded his mind, it took him a little bit to understand what was going on, but his eyes widened as he heard you once again, “Ah, fuck- please don’t s-stop-” you whispered out while breathing heavily, this time grinding against him while rubbing your thighs together. You were having a dream about..him. He didn’t know what to do, part of him wanted to wake you up, but the other part of him knew it wouldn’t be a good idea, but he knew he couldn’t let you grind on him any longer as it was turning him on also. Feeling himself grow harder at the way you rolled your ass against his crotch, only being in your underwear and one of his shirts that fit like a nightgown on your smaller figure. He slowly pulled away from you, peeling himself off your backside to give you guys more space in between. You instantly shot up out of your sleep with a loud gasp as you felt him pull away from you causing him to jump at the abruptness of your reaction. You quickly glanced around, heart racing as you were trying to become aware of your surroundings and quickly looked at James who was looking at you with the same alertness you had in your eyes.

“Sorry, I tried my best not to wake you, darling.” He explained, voice deeper and huskier than usual as it was mixed with drowsiness while carefully rubbing your shoulder. You blinked a few times before sitting up straighter and rubbed your eyes, “it’s uh, it’s okay.” You replied tiredly, still trying to come back to reality. He looked at you with surprise, raising his eyebrows slightly at your unusually calm response to being woken up. “What’re, what are you doing up?” You questioned causing him to pause. You looked over at him, waiting for an answer, “you woke me up..” He said finally. You tilted your head, “really? How..?” He cleared his throat while shifting uncomfortably, “uhm, you were talking in your sleep.” He said quietly. You thought about it, then remembered your dream, eyes widening in embarrassment. “Oh… what was I saying..?” You asked hesitantly while pushing your hair back away from your face. “Well, let’s just say that it was enough for me to have an idea of what you were dreaming about…” you giggled in embarrassment covering your face, “oh my god, I’m sorry” you apologized in between giggles. “It’s okay” he said nonchalantly as he shrugged, “sounded like a good dream” he teased making your face grow a darker shade of red.

“I guess it was, enough to make you hard when it wasn’t even your dream” You teased back while gesturing to his obvious hard on through the sheets. He rolled his eyes, “How could I not when you were desperately grinding on me like a bitch in heat?” Your eyes widened once again and you looked away, “no I wasn’t.” “Oh but you were.” You cleared your throat, “uh, well, sorry about that.” He only smiled and shrugged once again. “Do you… need help with, that-?” You asked while awkwardly gesturing to it again. Without waiting for a response, you crawled closer to him, “that would be nice…” he smiled while tucking your hair behind your ear before you leaned in for a soft intimate kiss, placing your lips gently on his, “anything for you.” You smiled as you trailed your hand down under the blankets and palmed him through his pyjama pants. He moaned into the kiss, your touch where he needed you most sending shivers down his spine. You pulled away and went lower to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses all over as your hand found its way into his pants, taking his leaking member out and gently grazed the tip with your thumb rubbing the pre cum over it. “You said you’d help, not tease.” He mumbled, his hand on your lower back as you continued to kiss his neck. "I am helping” you said innocently before squeezing him and slowly began pumping him earning a shaky breath from him.

You kissed down his shirtless torso and took the covers off, exposing his hard cock. The feeling of the cool air causing him to let out a light hiss. You looked up at him as he watched you intently, eyes full of lust and anticipation before you licked a trail up from the base of his cock to the tip, and took the tip in your mouth as you pumped the rest of his length with your hand. He pulled the hair away from your face as you slowly took him deeper in your mouth while hollowing out your cheeks making him groan as you did so. You came up with a wet pop of your mouth for air before taking him in your mouth again. “fuck…” he cursed under his breath and threw his head back in ecstasy as you bobbed your head up and down, “taking me so- well” he moaned while making eye contact with you, pushing you down deeper with ease, “that’s it darling, just like that...” he praised as you swirled your tongue around him, making him buck his hips up with a louder moan and pushed you down deeper than before, harshly hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag, tears forming as he held you down by your head making you wetter than before. He loosened his grip and let you come up for air leaving a trail of saliva connected from your chin and his cock.

“Can I ride you?” You asked after wiping your chin with the back of your hand and still jerking him off in the other leaving him a panting mess. He nodded desperately and you immediately pulled your underwear off and straddled him, his hands immediately finding their way to your hips. You kissed him again, this time being more heated and needy. You pulled away and sat up, grabbing his cock and lining him up with you, gathering your juices and sank down onto him. You both let out shaky sighs, his grip on your hip tightening. Your back instinctively arched as you felt him stretch you out. You took almost no time to adjust and began lazily bouncing on him, the filthy noises of your ass connecting with his hips echoed throughout the room as he loosely guided you up and down his length. Your mouth falling open as you felt him twitch inside of you with each thrust and moan you both let out. “God you feel so fucking good.” You arched your back more feeling him hit your g spot and you reached down between your legs, playing with yourself to bring you closer to the edge as you knew he wasn’t going to last long. He gripped onto your hips tighter and began fucking up into you as he chased his high, your moans and whines growing louder as he did so. You felt him finish inside of you with a loud groan, cursing loudly as his cum filled you up as you continued to ride him chasing your own orgasm. His hips bucked and back arched off the bed at the overstimulation, his own moans turning to a whimper while he let out heavy breaths beneath you, chest rising and falling rapidly, “oh- fuck” he sobbed out, hair messy from not being able to keep still, his voice hoarse. You picked up your pace, the sight of him falling apart below you finally pushing you over the edge as you clenched around him, legs shaking and struggling to keep yourself up, a high pitched moan falling from your mouth as you rode out your high. You heard him let out another loud rougher moan, his eyes rolling back and you felt him twitch and fill you up once more, another orgasm forcing its way out of him causing you to moan out with him feeling more full than ever as you were both now sweaty whimpering messes.

You stilled your movements, putting all your weight on him due to your now weak legs. After you both caught your breaths he helped you lift off of him, cum and juices streaming down your legs. You reached over and grabbed tissue from the bedside table, cleaning him off then yourself. You threw the tissues into the trash beside the bed and you fell down onto the bed beside him, resting your head on his chest.

“I never knew you could be so whiny..”

116 notes · View notes

l00kingatthem00n · 4 months ago

Text

━━ " COMPLIMENTS TO SMILE, A LIGHT TO SUN. "

━━ ABOUT.

hi! :] my name is west or crescent and welcome to my writing blog for oc x canon and x reader / yumeship shenanigans. here is a little bit about me!

i'm 18 years old and filipino.

i go by any pronouns, but he/him is preferable.

if you can't tell, i'm BIG into writing!!! i have an ao3 by the name of "inthemorningsun" i won't be posting tere as much as my tumblr, but you'll see me uploading my longer works on there.

my icon was made by my good bud @/enveelopes on twitter. please go follow them!!

━━ INTERESTS.

essentially, what i'll be willing to write for.

roblox: - block tales. - decaying winter. - frozen soul (dream game). - forsaken. - phighting. - regretevator. - starstruck.

project moon: - lobotomy corporation. - library of ruina. - limbus company.

━━ RULES.

please read thoroughly, if there are any questions just send them in my asks! they will also be updated accordinly.

first and foremost, this blog is more of a hobby and will not consume the majority of my time. i'll be taking 5-10 requests at a time. so, please understand that a select amount of requests will be taken. not only that, requests might take a while because i want to ensure it satisfies my standards.

while i will entertain instances of suggestive / smutty content, such as answering asks or writing works that involve it, please be aware that i am not currently willing to thoroughly write out actual smut. please be understanding of that- and don't worry, such content will be appropriately tagged "nsfw." regardless, feel free to peruse through posts that are "sfw" if you don't wish to come across those types of works.

whenever you request, it's completely optional, but i'd encourage you to be as specific as you can! other than whatever character(s) you want, please let me know whatever details you think are necessary! like if you want romantic or platonic, fluff or angst, or if you want headcanons or drabbles.

rapid-fire! what i will be willing to write: - fluff, angst, suggestive content. - romantic, platonic and queer platonic relationships. - headcanons, drabbles, and the occasional one-shot. - multiple characters x reader.

what i won't be willing to write: - romantic relationships with characters who are confirmed to be minors / children. - anything else that is problematic like incest, rape or anything non-consensual. - romanticized yandere. i can write it, but it will include how toxic and unhealthy a relationship like that is. - character x character / ships, but i do enjoy talking about them.

less of a rule, more of a heads-up, but sometimes i will write a character's appearance with my headcanons in mind, mainly to just add some more silly flares to their designs. this will most often apply to forsaken or phighting characters.

━━ TAGS.

sfw: self-explanatory

nsfw: also self-explanatory.

moonbeams: posts that are essentially anything that isn't writing! usual post stuff you'd see on tumblr hehe.

━━ MASTERLIST.

a compilation of all my written works.

n/a.

━━ QUEUE.

DO NOT REQUEST IN MY INBOX ANYMORE!!! PLEASE AND THANK YOU!! :'D

1x1x1x1 x reader fluff drabble.

survivors & killer!reader headcanons.

yandere!survivors & doctor!reader headcanons.

━━ " THIS FEELS NATURAL, NO SUBSTITUTE, NO ONE. "

#absolute beast of a blog intro #im so sorry 😭#holy moly so many tags uhm #sfw #blog intro #introduction #introductory post #block tales x reader #decaying winter x reader #forsaken x reader #phighting! x reader #phighting x reader #regretevator x reader #lobotomy corporation x reader #library of ruina x reader #limbus company x reader #dream game x reader #starstruck x reader

105 notes · View notes

beardedjoel · 2 years ago

Text

pretty little wife | do you have an appointment?

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 11.2k words, pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, exhibition kink, oral (m + f receiving), kneeling???, dirty talk, sir kink, pet names for reader, reader is joel's little doll hehe, little bit of domestic bliss, brief mention of alcohol, extremely submissive reader a/n: idek what happened here, it's been a while since i've gotten a chapter finished and went a little crazy with the word count on this one oopsie. i was plotting and writing this chapter then read this book and was extra excited that it lined up with this chapter so well so ANYWAY ENJOY! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

You love the mornings you have with Joel before he works, the ones where he takes it slow and sits down to sip coffee with you, eating the plated breakfast you set in front of him and chatting about what’s on his agenda for the day. You even love the ones where he practically flies into the kitchen, dressed and ready, and you can read the signals that there isn’t any time to spare for sweet chatter and a meal this morning.

This happens to be one of those mornings, with Joel buzzing around quickly, trying to get his things in order. He’d spent way too long making out with you like a horny teenager after already sleeping in too late for everything he had to get done at the office today, and now he was paying the price.

“Shit, sorry, baby, gotta rush out of here,” Joel mumbles as he scoots past you, taking a hasty gulp from his mug of coffee. You’ve been standing, fingers curled around your hips, brushing the fabric of your silk robe and watching in amusement as your husband starts to fall apart in the chaos of his own doing. You can smell the freshness of his shower on him, his heavenly body wash making you take an extra breath in just to keep it with you a little longer.

“You just worry about your shoes and bag, let me get this into a travel cup for you,” you tell him, grabbing the mug out of his hands before he can protest.

“God, m’perfect wife, thank you,” he says quickly, pecking the side of your head as he passes by again, heading towards the coat closet near the front door.

You hear him rustling around as you fill one of his favorite cups - a Texas Longhorns travel mug - and walk it over to the front door.

“Dumb ass for scheduling this meeting so early,” he mumbles to himself, critiquing his lack of foresight in his own agenda. He has his shoes on and looks ready to go as he looks up at you, his irritated expression immediately changing into a soft, lopsided smile.

His arms reach out to you and pull you in for an embrace, grabbing the mug out of your hand before leaning down to kiss you, long and deep.

“Make it up t’ya later,” he promises with a wink before one more chaste kiss makes its way onto your lips from him.

“You better,” you quip back, “Bye, honey.” He waves as he slips through the front door, and moments later you hear his truck start up, speeding off through the neighborhood.

You sigh, shaking your head a little at your husband, but start to move along with your day, changing into your more worn clothes - an old t-shirt of Joel’s and some cloth shorts - to tidy the kitchen first and then get a good vacuum done all over the house. You find a few more projects - taking an inventory of toiletries for your trip to the store this week and a quick clean of the half bathroom on the main level has you feeling accomplished for the day, realizing it’s nearing the time you’re supposed to meet your friends for your weekly tennis scrimmage.

You contemplate inside your closet for a few moments before deciding on an all white tennis outfit - a pleated skirt and workout tank top, completing it with ankle high socks and your white tennis shoes. You throw a zip up on top of everything and clasp on the sparkling tennis bracelet Joel had gotten you, claiming it had tennis in the name, so it must go with your tennis outfits, right? You’d nearly fallen out of your chair that day at the glimmering diamonds as Joel put it on your wrist for the first time, telling him that it wasn’t in fact something that actually had anything to do with you playing tennis. You decided to wear it most weeks to play tennis, anyways, just because of how sweet the gesture had been from him.

You open the fridge to grab some snacks and a protein drink to bring to the court with you, when your eye catches on Joel’s lunch, still sitting in the fridge and untouched - in his rush this morning he must have forgotten it. You frown, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to your friends, letting them know you won’t be able to make your usual time today and then pull up Joel’s contact to call him.

“Hey darlin’, how are you?” Joel says upon picking up, sounding slightly distracted among the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

“You forgot your lunch,” you blurt out.

“Oh, shoot, you’re right, ain’t ya. Hmm, s’okay, I’ll just grab somethin’ to go, maybe,” Joel says, sounding lost in thought over his current situation.

“Let me bring it to you. We could eat together?” you ask, biting your lip and hoping his day isn’t too busy to fit you in.

“Don’t ya have tennis and lunch with your girls right about now?”

“Er, well, I already canceled to bring you your lunch,” you admit. You hear Joel hum quickly on the other end in contemplation.

“Alright, ya got me. Jus’ didn’t want you to go out of your way f’me,” Joel says, and you shake your head a little bit.

“Of course not, I want to eat lunch with you. Besides, I haven’t been to the office in a long time.”

“See ya around noon, then?” Joel asks, and you agree that noon sounds perfect.

“W-wait, doll -” Joel cuts in before you two can hang up.

“Hmm?” you murmur, clutching the phone back into your ear.

“What’re you wearin’? Your little white skirt?” he asks, and you lick your lips and break out into a smile.

“Maybe…” you tease, “I was about to change, though, if I’m not playing.”

“Don’t.” Joel says more sternly. “Don’t change.”

And as usual, you obey.

You walk into Joel’s office building, part of a larger skyscraper downtown, and as you notice little details again you realize that you really haven’t been here in ages. It always impresses you every time you see it, though, the pristine office space and location, and it makes you smile at how successful your husband has gotten. You bet he’s as good a boss as he is a husband, you think to yourself, knowing that Joel’s business is one of the top contracting companies in Austin.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” a younger, sandy haired woman behind a counter labeled Reception asks as you walk up.

“Oh, I’m here to see Joel - uh, Mr. Miller? I -“ you stutter uncomfortably - you suddenly feel a bit out of your depth looking into this woman’s curious, critical eyes.

The woman looks you up and down, assessing you quickly. You find yourself wishing you could hear the thoughts going through her head as she quirks a brow at you. You try not to be self conscious, but sometimes in a situation like this, where you’re not sure exactly where you belong, you tend to get nervous. You just want to see Joel and find some solace in his arms.

“Do you have an appointment?” she interrupts you, glancing at the computer to see if there’s anything on the agenda for this time of day.

“Gosh, no. I’m his wife. Sorry, should have said that right off the bat. He forgot his lunch this morning,” you tell her, putting on your kindest smile and holding the little cooler bag up. Her eyes widen just slightly and she stares for a moment, her quick gaze roaming your outfit and body having a different meaning now, landing with a small, furtive smile on the high pony tail that had been swinging back and forth on your head as you’d walked in.

“Sorry, he didn’t say he was expecting you. I can show you where his office is, if you need,” she says, suddenly straightening her back and cocking her head at you.

“No worries, I’ve been here before. Uh, thanks,” you tell her, trying not to falter your smile. Something about the way she’d looked at you made you feel… off - like she was judging you for some secret that you weren’t in on. It’s obvious you’re much younger than Joel, but you’ve never been bothered by the fact and you wish other people weren’t, either. Maybe they’d expected some frumpy older lady to walk in here, or something, and instead were stuck with the conundrum that was you.

You try to shake it off and make a beeline to Joel’s office, but you find more eyes are on you - people looking up from their desks as you pass, doing double takes, their faces completely unreadable. Your skin is crawling a little uncomfortably at the sidelong glances from so many people you don’t know. You’re starting to regret your choice of outfit, not changing before you’d left the house, but you do know Joel loves this particular tennis skirt on you, and he’d specifically asked you not to change. You try to remind yourself that the only opinion that matters in this office is his, and it settles your nerves a little bit.

“There she is,” Joel says sweetly as you give his office door a few quick knocks and enter. He practically jumps out of his chair to meet you, swiftly going in for a kiss. He takes the lunch bag you’d packed out of your hand and plops it onto his desk.

“Hungry now?” he asks, and you nod, smiling almost dumbly at him. You just find that he does something to you, this man, and you can only smile and nod and be this submissive little thing around him most of the time. And it’s absolutely glorious, the effect your husband has on you. It's like everything that happened, all the uncomfortable stares from the office, completely vanishes once you’re with him.

Joel gives you one more kiss, groaning a little into it before pulling away reluctantly. He rearranges chairs so that you two can sit next to each other and eat at his desk. He starts to unpack the lunch, pulling out a small slip of paper with a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, that’s -” you start, a small blush coming over your cheeks.

“I know what it is, darlin’. You pack them every day,” Joel replies, unfolding it and reading the small note you’d packed in his lunch. You started to get into the habit so long ago that you can’t even remember how long you’d been doing it. Putting funny jokes, sexy promises, or just a quickly scrawled I love you and tossing it in with his lunch each night became just simply part of your routine at this point.

Joel stands up and opens a drawer at his desk, pulling out a small box that he opens to place the note inside. Your mouth hangs open a little as the realization of what he’s doing hits you.

“You… keep them?” you ask timidly, and Joel’s eyes find yours, his smile growing.

“Every single one,” he states simply, and you feel your eyes grow watery before blinking it away. “Good for when I’m havin’ a rough day,” he adds, finding his way back to his seat.

You’re practically speechless, loving that the small gesture has meant so much to Joel, has helped him on days he’s here without you and needs a pick me up. The thought alone sends your heart soaring, filled with love for your husband and you lean forward to kiss him again, savoring the feel of his lips on yours.

“That’s so sweet, baby, I love it,” you finally manage to say with a tight voice, and he pinches your cheek lovingly before settling back in his chair to eat.

“Oh, hang on, darlin’, I think there’s some sodas in the break room I could sneak us,” Joel says with an effortlessly suave wink, leaving you smiling to yourself as he slips out of his office.

Joel hears hushed voices through the open door to the break room, and he’s about to turn in when the words they’re saying catch his ear. He knows he should just go in, silence them with his presence alone, but he can’t help himself. He immediately feels a seething boil under his skin at what he’s hearing.

“I swear, I heard from someone who went for like, a party or something at their place, she’s totally like one of those Stepford Wives. All dolled up and in dresses and aprons all the time and shit. I don’t know, just sounds weird to me,” a female voice says, and Joel’s brow crinkles further, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What, really?” a male voice replies, with a second female voice murmuring something similar.

“I mean, didn’t you see her walk in today? The outfit alone. Cute, but like… feels like she’s trying a bit too hard, you know,” the first woman says, and Joel hears laughter between the other two.

“Oh, I saw,” the second woman says with a snort. “It’s all people are talking about out there, seriously. Didn’t know the boss was such a sugar daddy.”

“I know, makes you wonder. He could have anyone, he’s handsome enough and successful, and he chooses to just be with some housewife? She’s pretty and all that, but like…. I guess to each their own,” she says, with a tone that indicates she doesn’t mean her words at all, and her judgment is still swift.

Joel has found himself sucked into their conversation, listening from the outside with baited breath, a sinking feeling in his chest. Sure, he’s angry, absolutely livid that these three are being so hastily judgemental, but what’s hurting the most is knowing they’re talking about his wife. His sweet, loving, caring, absolutely perfect wife. Someone who always thinks of others, so giving, so wonderful. He knew if you heard their words, it would hurt you deeply, the thought that these people were talking badly about you for just living the way you want to live.

Joel can’t take it anymore, swiftly turning the corner of the doorframe and entering the room. The three of them are mid-laughter and it tapers off as Joel heads for the fridge.

“Afternoon,” he says casually, a knowing smirk on his face to try to hide his anger. He glances at the three of them, surely sweating bullets and all looking a bit like they were caught in the act, eyes blinking rapidly and smiles a little too forced.

They all murmur similar greetings in response, trying to act casual. Joel grabs a few sodas out of the fridge, wrapping his large hands around the cool cans and letting the change of temperature ground him a bit.

He makes his way to the door, letting them think that he didn’t hear anything, that they got off the hook that easily. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the room, glancing over his shoulder at his three employees, looking so uncomfortable as they stand huddled together that he could laugh right in their faces.

“Y’know,” he starts, dragging it out a little with a small sigh. “I’ll bet she’d have nothin’ but nice things to say about you three,” he says simply with a quick shake of his head before turning, not even bothering to check their reactions.

All he wants now is to head back to you, back to his wife, and give you an extra squeeze and a kiss for being so wonderful to him. You’re waiting eagerly, nervously playing with your fingernails when Joel returns, and you immediately smile widely again at the sight of him.

“Hit the jackpot,” he says, and you grab the can from him. Joel leans down, grabbing your face with his free hand, slightly cold still from the drink and you yelp with a playful giggle.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly with a chuckle, moving his hand off of your cheek. “Just needed to kiss my girl.”

You meet his face in the middle and let him, his lips crashing into yours for a few blissful seconds before he sits down next to you and asks to hear about your morning. He keeps a firm hand on your knee any time he doesn't need to use them to eat his lunch as you two sit and catch up between bites.

“Y’swear, you made this bread?” Joel asks you, marveling at his sandwich - meat, cheese, and veggie toppings sitting between a sourdough recipe you’d been trying to perfect.

“I swear. I can’t believe you haven’t seen the levain in the house, it’s just a big gross blob in a jar,” you say, stifling a laugh.

Joel ponders his memory for a few moments before nodding. “Guess maybe I did. But m’point is - what can’t my wife do? So talented…”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the special attention and compliments he’s giving you, shaking your head modestly in reply. “N-no, it’s just bread,” you say meekly.

He squeezes your thigh, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief second as he speaks. “You’re perfect, darlin’, sorry to say it, but it’s true.”

You laugh then, deciding not to fight him on it anymore. Your face continues to warm from his compliments, your body tingling slightly as you feel a hint of desire pooling low in your body. You know that isn’t his intended result from the compliments he’s doling out on you now, but you can’t help but respond to his attention like this, feeling a deep satisfaction that you’ve pleased him in some way.

“Hey Joel, I -“ a voice interrupts, a broad, light haired man entering through the cracked door. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know - uh -“ he says upon seeing you, chair scooted close to Joel’s, his hand rubbing circles on your thigh.

“S’alright Rick, what is it?” Joel replies, not bothering to move his hand. If anything, he instinctively tightens it, claiming you in front of a new person, letting them know who you belong to.

“Jus’ had a few questions on the Parker Street project, but it can wait.” His eyes flash back and forth between you and Joel, seemingly trying to size up the situation. Joel opens his mouth to respond to Rick, but the man smiles suddenly and speaks again before Joel can.

“Now who’s this, though? Don’t tell me you’re hiring girls to eat lunch with you now,” Rick teases, and you feel your mouth pop open and your face get hot at the insinuation. Joel’s face doesn’t crack, it hardly even moves as you glance over at him desperately, feeling a burn of embarrassment prickle at your eyes. You try to blink it away, hoping you don’t end up crying in front of this random asshole.

Joel clears his throat a moment later, his hand tight on your thigh, sudden energy and irritation coursing through him and out into his grip. “If you need to hire your own wife to eat lunch with you, then you got bigger problems, don’t you, Rick?” he snips back, and Rick pales realizing what he thought was a light-hearted joke didn’t quite land.

“J-just messing around, I’m sorry. She’s just - uh -“ Rick stutters, and Joel just gives a blasé raise of his eyebrows.

“Careful what words come out of your mouth next about my wife.”

Rick seems intent on digging himself deeper into his own hole and stutters some more, trying to explain himself. “N-no, it’s just - well, you’re very beautiful,” he says, turning to you quickly. “Some people around the office, t-they said some things when you came in. Just jokes, that’s all, just you’re pretty and young, and Joel, well he’s… and… we just made funny assumptions that you couldn’t be his wife.”

Joel sighs, keeping a cool demeanor as he cocks his head in Rick’s direction “People really think my wife, my perfect little wife, is some random girl I hired, huh? After the way you all know I feel about my girl, way I go on and on about this perfect little thing right here,” Joel says, gesturing to you quickly. “Think I’d want anythin’ to do with anyone else?”

“God, no, Joel, it’s just - we didn’t know, she was… shit, so young, okay?”

Joel’s lips purse and you watch on, wide eyed and stunned silent by this conversation, not sure what you could even say right now to help.

“Well, she is the age she is,” Joel says simply. “Let everyone know if they’ve got an issue, they can come see me.” He breathes an unamused chuckle, looking at Rick expectantly.

“You’re right, Joel. It was just s-stupid office chatter, sorry you had to get caught up in it. We know how m-much you love your wife. He’s always - always talking about you, promise,” Rick says, and your lips turn up a little at his groveling.

“I know he does,” you finally say, keeping yourself meek but clear, turning to look at Joel and planting a kiss on his cheek. He turns his head, meeting the kiss and making sure Rick sees just how much you care for each other.

“We’ll talk about the Parker Street stuff later, come back in… mm, an hour or so with Steve and Pat,” Joel says, glancing down at his watch.

“Sure, of course, sounds good,” Rick says quietly, starting to back out of Joel’s office. “Again, I’m so sorry…” he trails off, and you smile blankly at him in return.

“It’s alright, I get it. Joel does pay me in other ways to eat lunch with him,” you say, and you hear Joel nearly choke on a laugh next to you as he mutters an impressed curse under his breath.

Rick doesn’t know what to do - smile, laugh, or let his face get a deeper shade of red at your sudden fierceness, but he settles on a strange, awkward combination of all three before leaving the door cracked shut behind him.

“Now what was that?” Joel asks, turning towards you, shock written on his face.

“What, I can’t give him a taste of his own medicine?” you reply, doe-eyed and smirking.

“God, no, y’can. It was perfect, so fuckin’ sexy to see you tell them what I do for ya,” Joel growls, standing up and pulling you off your chair and into his arms. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck in response to his movements, pulling yourself closer.

“Do you have to get back to work now?” you ask with a slight pout, knowing this lovely afternoon with Joel would have to come to an end eventually.

“Don’t want ya to leave,” Joel says, hand splayed across your lower back, holding you tight to his torso. “Could keep ya here w’me at work as my little pet, couldn’t I?” His eyes gather up a mischievousness as he considers his own words and what they mean he’d be getting this afternoon.

“Have me, then,” you reply, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink up at him. Joel’s jaw sets a little tighter, a groaning noise working its way out of him as he grinds up against you a little bit. His hand gently taps under your chin, lifting it slightly and holding it there, cocking his head in amazement at you.

“All mine, hm? My little pet to play with?” he asks, his voice going an octave lower in want.

You dip your head in one long bow, and Joel starts forward, catching your lips with his. He devours you, forcing his tongue into your mouth quickly and you slide yours against his in equal fervor, starting to moan wantonly into his mouth. He’s already got you breathless, the way his hands move fluidly along your back, catching your ass in his palm and squeezing, the other one gripping the back of your neck, holding you in place.

Joel moves you backwards, slowly walking you until he collapses in his office chair, pulling you down with him and settling you to straddle his lap. He pulls away, thumbing your cheek and scanning your face, glowing and flush with arousal for him already.

“Wanna teach some assholes here a lesson about disrespectin’ my wife,” he says. “Can’t have that, can I?”

Your lips turn up in a smile and you shake your head for him, eliciting a devilish smirk from Joel.

“Alright, why don’t ya stay next to me, darlin’, while I get some work done. See if any of ‘em got somethin’ more to say when they see how good my wife is to me.”

You blink a few times in confusion, your body torn because of the way he’d just been all over you, to not have it progress any further. You start for a chair, to pull it over next to his desk, and you hear Joel tisk as soon as you begin to turn away. His hands hold onto your back, stopping you from sliding off of his firm lap.

“Not like that doll, y’know what I want - need y’to help me relax a little,” Joel says, his eyes quickly dipping to the floor and back up, and you stiffen, immediately picking up on the change. You should have known better when he’d brought up the words little pet. You tilt your head innocently at him as he releases his hold on you, and feel your body moving before you can even process it, moving off of his lap, legs buckling and sending you to your knees.

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, looking down at you, settled on your knees next to his chair, “Good girl, my good little wife.”

Your insides warm at his praise, bubbling with satisfaction as you gaze up at him seated above you. You have to admit that you’re surprised Joel has gone this far in the workplace - this dynamic isn’t necessarily anything new to you, and Joel does have to be in a certain mood to get as far as wanting you kneeling next to him like this, but you’re always more than happy to oblige. You love the way it makes him look at you, so pleased and adoring as you fulfill both of your needs and desires, turning yourself off to become everything he needs, and in turn, everything you need.

“Now, you okay if people see you like this? Y’know the last thing I want is to upset ya,” Joel says and you nod.

“It’s okay,” you say with a small smile, scooting a bit closer to his chair. You worm your way closer, nuzzling his leg before resting your chin on his thigh. “Whatever you need, sir.”

“Mm, that’s it, jus’ get comfortable,” he coos down at you. Your heart is lifting, thundering happily in your chest at how natural this position feels for you. “I’ll let y’know when I need you.”

You nod dutifully into the fabric of his slacks and Joel turns his chair slightly, patting his thigh before pulling you in between his legs rather than next to him, and you rest your cheek on his inner thigh, letting your breath calm at the warmth of his skin. Your initial nerves that anyone could walk in and see you like this, see you in a position they might consider weak or strange or even gross are dissipating when you sense your husband's presence so close, the thick muscles of his thigh moving underneath your cheek.

You observe his world as he starts to get to work, clicking and typing on his computer with a few irritated sighs. You can tell just how much Rick’s comments are affecting Joel, how the tension spreads and radiates throughout his body. He tuts a few times as he scrolls his emails, your eyes flicking up to the screen but not bothering to read much, giving him his privacy. He picks up the phone and you hear bits and pieces of the conversations he’s having, just finding yourself content to let your mind wander, focusing on the sensations at hand - Joel’s warmth, the muscles on his leg shifting every so often, the sound of his breathing above you when the room gets quiet.

His hand drifts down while he’s waiting for the other end of the line to ring on a new call, his large hand landing on the top of your head and moving down, stroking gently along the side of your head several times. The sudden attention has you glancing up at his face, and he gives you a sweet look, eyes glazed over as he watches your lips parted and eyes trusting and twinkling for him. You melt instantly, a frown coming to your face as soon as Joel breaks eye contact and blinks quickly a few times, snapping out of it.

“Oh, yeah, this is Joel Miller calling for Devin,” he says. You then decide to filter out anything unimportant again, and wait for Joel to call your attention again as he places what sounds like some order for different lumber sizes for a new build they’re working on. He doesn’t move his hand, though, brushing it along your head in slow, repeated strokes while his voice drones on. You don’t even notice the way your hands have moved of their own accord, grasping onto his calves and inching yourself even closer to where his legs meet on the chair. Your hands are crawling up his thighs, rubbing them, and your face is dangerously close to his crotch now. You can feel Joel’s eyes peering down at your slow, steady movement towards dangerous territory.

“Mhm, you too, bye,” Joel says, before harshly setting the phone down onto the receiver on down his desk and hissing through his teeth as he snaps his head down to look at you.

“What’re you doin’,” he snips, and your movements halt, a bit of fear burning through your veins that you’ve upset or disappointed him.

“Just… wanted to touch you more,” you say quietly, putting your eyes and head down towards the floor.

“Said I’d tell y’when I needed you, didn’t I?” he asks.

“I know… I’m sorry, Joel. You just… make me so…” you stutter, knowing he probably won’t like that you’re trying to make excuses right now, not when he’s in this dominant mode. He’s usually pretty lenient with situations like this though, when he knows you just want to be close to him and aren’t trying to be a brat on purpose.

“Hmm,” he growls a little, his lip bit in contemplation for a moment before he places a hand on the back of your head, fisting your high ponytail into his palm. “I know I do, can’t help yourself can you?”

You shake your head in quick movements. “No, I can’t… sir.”

“Make it up t’me…” Joel says, dragging his words. “Suck on my cock like a good girl while I finish this work, then I’ll give ya all the attention you need.”

Your hand brushes gently over the obvious arousal bulging out of his pants, so close to where your cheek was just resting, as you graze your fingers up to his belt in a slow, tantalizing manner, garnering a hum of satisfaction from Joel. You’re about to pull it through the first loop when there’s a knock on the door and you jump, dropping your hand back to his thigh.

“Shit,” Joel spits under his breath in irritation. “After,” he commands a bit louder to you, and you nod, staring up at him in anxious anticipation for what to do next. Should you stand, stay right where you are, get into the seat next to Joel? Your heart starts to pick up a little as you sit up straight, ready to move if needed.

“Don’t get up for them,” he says sternly, seeming to read your mind, so you blink and try to relax back down. His hand finds its way back to the side of your head, stroking to calm you. “S’okay.”

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly as Joel summons them to come into his office.

You refuse to make eye contact with them, suddenly feeling shyness weigh on you, your shoulders curling in as you find refuge against Joel’s leg again. You hear the shuffle of shoes and bodies entering the room and try not to tense up, wanting to make a good impression for Joel. You try to be brave, looking up at Joel and then turning your head to his coworkers with a lazy smile, and they’re already staring at you with a mixture of emotions - confusion, lust, disgust, and so many things you can’t read that you find it makes you avert your gaze immediately.

“The Parker Street project, right?” Joel says, completely ignoring the rapidly changing emotions on their faces.

“Right,” one of them that isn’t Rick says. “J-joel, um,” he says, flashing his eyes to you a few times.

“My wife, don’t worry about her. She’s visiting today. Tell them hello, darlin’,” Joel says, his hand still moving lazily along the side of your head.

“H-hello,” you manage to choke out, giving them your name and hoping your voice doesn’t waver too much.

They awkwardly greet you in return, and you try to focus, focus, focus, on Joel’s soothing hand on your hair, the well worn fabric of his pants below you that smells like him, the promise of dirty things after he has this meeting. You find it calms you, wishing you could be exactly like he wants - perfectly submissive, not scared for these other men to see you like this, and you aren’t scared, per se. Joel just doesn’t always bring this dynamic out of the home with him, and it has you feeling more timid than ever over it, even though you do like it. The chance for Joel to show you off, practically in a begging position between his legs, knowing you’re in a skimpy skirt that he loves as it flows out around your hips and onto the floor below you. The thought of these men seeing how much you belong to Joel has arousal starting to pool deep in your belly, swirling lower and lower the more you think about it. Joel’s girl. His pretty little wife. Let them see how good I am to him.

Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your head as they all speak - Rick, Steven, and Pat all doing their best to focus despite the out of the ordinary circumstances. You can’t help but wonder if Joel cares, if he thinks this will affect the way he’s treated by his employees. You start to spiral out, hoping your eyes don’t give away the sudden panic and worry that you’re somehow doing something wrong, making Joel’s life harder by being here. His hand edges down to your chin, unnoticeable to the other men, who have their eyes trained downwards on some blueprints on Joel’s desk as they chatter. He tilts your head slightly off of his thigh, having you look up at him, and he can see the nervous breath hitch in your throat. His eyes go soft and he gives your chin a few gentle strokes of his finger.

“Good girl,” he mouths, and you melt a little, still not completely rid of the tension. “I love you,” he mouths next, and you find that was the key to the lock, the exact thing you needed from him right now. Of course Joel wouldn’t have you sitting like this if he cared at all what these men thought, if he had any doubts. One thing you knew about Joel was that he wasn’t a man with many doubts, ever.

You squeeze his calf lovingly and relax again, not failing to notice that Joel’s pants have a prominent bulge just inches from where you’re nuzzling against him. You feel the familiar crawl of arousal in your core again, starting to throb in time with your clit, and you want nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and start riding his cock right now in front of everyone. As if he read your mind yet again, sensing the low, low pooling of heat inside of you, Joel decides to adjourn the meeting.

“Hope that answered most of it, but let’s talk tomorrow, hm? Gotta get this pretty girl home soon,” Joel says to them, and to your surprise, they seem much more relaxed, giving out smiles and little chuckles and talking more animatedly with Joel as they wrap their meeting up. You breathe a sigh of relief and say goodbye to them when Joel requests you to, thankful you can be alone with him again.

As soon as the door to his office clicks shut, Joel shifts in his seat, moving your head off of his lap and replacing it with his own hands. He growls a little, the sound deep and rumbling all the way down to where you’re sitting at his feet, eager to please. His fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it with a fury that you’re not sure you’ve seen from him before, deft fingers undoing it and unzipping his fly in record time.

“Get my cock in your mouth, pretty girl,” he groans, yanking it out of his pants - the tip exposed first, achingly red and dripping with precum. Your mouth salivates, your tongue starts to poke out before you even realize, desperate to lap it onto your tongue and taste him. He fists it in his hand, slapping it against your mouth a few times, looking down at you through hooded eyes.

“No playin’ around, either, no little kitten licks and all that shit - I want this fat cock stuffing your mouth ‘till you’re choking,” he says, his voice a hot heat that licks down your skin like fire, sending a wave of arousal crashing through you. Slickness pools in your underwear, and you rub your thighs together instinctually. You nod, your mind still processing the vulgarity of what he’d said.

“Your words,” he reminds you, and you blink a few times, swallowing hard.

“Yes, o-of course, sir,” you say eagerly, eyes fixed on the bulbous head of his cock, sitting less than an inch from your hungry, salivating lips.

“Good girl.” Joel lands another gentle stroke on your head, reaching back to grasp at the high ponytail sitting atop your crown, wrapping it around his hand in a few swift tugs. He has complete control, his hand firmly pressing your head to close the gap between your soon to be swollen lips and his cock, and you open wide for him, not wanting him to even have to ask, and he doesn’t fail to notice.

“Eager girl, so good,” he praises, the end trailing into a groan as he slips past your lips, the immediate taste of him on your tongue more than welcome for you. You hum around his girth, the satisfaction filling your soul instantly as he presses on the back of your head, sending you further and further down his shaft. He hits the back of your throat, and he breathes hard, nearly gasping as you try to swallow him down and gag a bit, but Joel smiles crookedly, loving the sound that makes him feel so big and powerful above you.

“Yeah? Chokin’ on this big cock, are you? Bet you love it,” he purrs, his fingers tightening around your hair in his hand, scratching along your scalp.

“Mmm,” you hum affirmatively around him. Your mouth is so full, jaw stretched and hurting already and you can scarcely breathe with the angle he’s hitting you at. You bob your head, slowly starting to move yourself faster along his cock, and Joel feels impossibly hard inside your mouth. You nearly moan at the feeling of what you alone do to him, your thighs clamping together under your skirt as you feel your warm center start to ache for him.

“Fuck, pretty thing, so good for me, aren’t you? Suckin’ on me like that at work like the little slut you are,” Joel grunts out, his breathing more erratic now. He’s losing himself completely to you, his head thrown back into the chair, panting as you keep up the quick bobbing of your head.

You continue to take him in deep thrusts, your eyes watering, saliva pooling all around the base of him and starting to drip. Your hand pumps along what your mouth can’t take and you’re becoming a complete mess, tear stained cheeks and gagging noises that only serve to egg Joel on.

“Fuck, perfect fuckin’ mouth, let me fuck it.” Joel tugs on your ponytail, trying to pull your head back to hear the two words he needs, the two words you’re desperate to say to him.

You slide yourself up his shaft in a long, slow stroke before popping the head out of your mouth. You gaze up at him, your eyes completely changed and fucked out already for him, and Joel nearly comes at the sight alone. Your hair is starting to become undone in the way it only does when he fucks you, your lips puffy and overused now, and eyes glassy. It’s a sight to behold, absolutely angelic, and Joel feels only pure adoration for you and gratitude that he’s the only man who can gaze upon this exact view any time he wants.

“Yes, sir,” you say, lapping his head and waiting for him to make the next move. He bucks his hips into your small licks before he tightens his grip on the back of your head, holding you in place as he slides himself back into your warm mouth. He sighs at the feeling and only moves slowly for a few moments to stand up from his chair before he starts to thrust his hips into your mouth with more vigor.

It sends you reeling, the speed he’s moving in your mouth now, so unrelenting, taking everything he needs from you as you choke around him and try to swallow him down. You feel the ache between your thighs that has been growing reach an apex, your panties undoubtedly completely soaked through now, needing him to touch you, to find some relief for your neglected, throbbing clit.

“I’m gonna come down that pretty throat,” Joel says among his panting breaths, shoving himself into you with a hearty thrust.

You encourage Joel with a tight suck, trying to flick your tongue underneath his shaft as he moves your head. He groans loudly, and you know he’s close, your hands flying up to claw at his thighs and hold on as he slams himself into you.

“Yeah little doll, gonna come in you, gonna c-“ Joel cuts himself off with a swift groan of pleasure as he bucks forward, spilling himself deep into your throat as promised, painting your throat white with his spend. He holds you in the position, keeping himself buried deep in your mouth as he comes down, breathing heavily. You feel his fingers slowly relax on your head, dropping your ponytail before he plops back into his chair. When you look up, his eyes are closed, head leaning back, and he looks completely blissed out, making you grin in satisfaction. You take care to tuck him back into his pants and he smiles down at you, peeking an eye open.

“C’mere,” he says softly, patting his lap. You clamber up onto him, letting him press you against his chest as he wraps you in his arms, kissing the side of your cheek and neck.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and you grab his hand in yours, bringing it to your mouth. You kiss along each of his knuckles, carefully giving each spot attention before letting his hand drop and putting both of your hands around his neck, scratching up into his hair. He hums contentedly at that, nuzzling himself into your neck.

“You liked everything I did today?” you ask tentatively, knowing what his answer will be, but you can’t help but seek his praise. After a more intense scene together like today, it feels extra good to hear.

“Mm, I did, m’pretty doll.” He pauses thoughtfully for a moment, his fingers brushing along your back. “Y’know I wouldn’t change you, right? Change any of this? I want ya just as you are.”

“Oh.” You blink and knit your brows a little, nodding. You flick your eyes to his face, seeing that he’s already studying you. “Yeah, I do. Why’re you asking?”

“Jus’ makin’ sure. Too much damn chatter in this office today. All I care ‘bout is you knowin’ you’re my perfect girl.”

You sigh happily and plant a kiss where your head lays on him. “I’m so glad you liked it, I just wanted to do a good job for you.”

Joel makes a low, understanding sound and nods. “Y’did. Bet my baby is all worked up though, isn’t she? Needs a reward for being such a good girl today.”

You practically start to salivate at the words, good girl and reward in the same sentence always seem to lead to glorious things with Joel. You bite the inside of your lip, not sure if you should show him how suddenly eager you are, but a small shift from you in his lap tells him everything he needs to know. He chuckles, low and reverberating across his chest before he grabs your ass, moving you so that you’re straddling his thigh. One hand stays on your ass, and the other comes to cup near your lower belly, the one splayed on your behind starting to push you forward first. His hand on your belly pushes you back, encouraging you to use his thigh while he raptly watches your features screw up into pleasure.

You breathe in shakily at the miniscule amount of pressure on your clit already, immediately tightening around nothing as you start to move yourself in time with his hands as they manipulate you. You feel the build up already of a quickly approaching orgasm, your breath shallowing and erratic now as you quietly moan his name. Your eyes roll back and flutter shut as you grind harder, and just as you feel yourself cresting that sweet cliff into pure bliss, Joel holds tightly to both sides of you, stopping you. You nearly gasp, a frustrated grunt flying past your lips before you can stop it, your hips wiggling but to no avail - you can’ get enough friction now, enough pressure to send you into the pleasurable oblivion you’re craving.

“P-please,” you whine, a sob threatening to break out of your throat as your cunt weeps and aches desperately for him.

“Now…” Joel starts, his lips brushing your neck, beard and mustache tickling you and sending another wave of arousal to your core. “If you’re good jus’ a little longer, do what I say, I’ll give you your reward, mkay?” He talks smoothly and slowly, his words hitting you deep inside as you whimper, trying to grind down on him again, barely able to listen to him through the needy fog clouding your mind.

“C’mon, little doll, know y’want more than jus’ this, comin’ on my leg, don’t you?” He pulls back from your neck and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyebrows raise just slightly in expectation of your answer, and you purse your lips a little but nod.

“I need it,” you whisper quietly, your face scrunched up slightly in need as you finally still on Joel’s lap.

“I know y’can do it, doll,” Joel assures you, his hand curling around your face and to the side of your head, smoothing your hair back.

“Okay… w-what do I need to do for my reward?”

“You’re gonna head on home, I’ll be maybe thirty minutes, an hour behind ya while I wrap up here and sneak out early.” Joel pauses and you watch his face intently, brows twitching to hear the next part of his plan.

“You’re gonna put on that little blue set with the flowers, you know the one right?”

You nod quickly and mutely for him, lips pressed tightly together, enraptured by his words. You feel your heart fluttering, beating faster already.

“Words, darlin’,” he presses you, and you pop your mouth open.

“Yes, sir.”

“Lay in bed an’ wait for me jus’ wearing that. No touchin’ yourself, no coming until I get to you, you understand?” Joel thumbs where he holds your chin before squeezing it possessively.

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. You do all of that, and you get your reward,” Joel says, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards in satisfaction at the way you’re eating up his words, sitting with baited breath.

You don’t even have to ask him what the reward might be, knowing Joel, knowing it will be well worth whatever short torture you’ll have to put yourself through while you wait for him. You can’t say some parts of your body seem on board, your pussy still fluttering, slick, and longing for Joel even as you try to accept that you won’t be able to do anything about it for a while yet.

“I can do it,” you tell Joel finally, trying to straighten yourself and exude confidence, rolling your shoulders back.

“Okay, then. Home now, doll. And do as I said.” Joel gives your ass a firm spanking before releasing you from his lap, letting you slide off. The both of you, unable to help yourselves, quickly glance down to catch a glimpse of the spot on his pants where you’d just been seated, and Joel’s wry expression at the dark, slick stain from you makes you need to take a deep breath, remind yourself of your new mission.

“See you at home,” you say with a stern nod, pulling yourself together. When you leave the office, you have a renewed confidence, nothing like you felt when you’d walked in here earlier to those critical eyes following you. You feel an extra bounce in your step, passing by the secretary who has one of those particular pairs of eyes. You meet her stare as you walk up to where she’s seated, and you adjust your ponytail, knowing it’s quite obviously much more messy than when you’d arrived from Joel’s hands as he’d fucked into your face like it was his salvation.

“Have a great afternoon,” you chirp at her, a genuine smile shot her way as you pass by.

She gives you a faltering smile in return and her words trail after you as you don’t bother to stop on your way to the elevator. “You too…”

You’re patiently waiting, your whole body taut and anxious as you lay back against the pillows of the bed, sighing. You fiddle with the straps of your lingerie, glancing down to make sure everything is sitting just right on your body for Joel when you hear the front door opening in the distance. You smile to yourself devilishly, your heart thumping and skipping in your chest. You listen carefully, wanting to hear the exact moment Joel approaches you after this long, arduous wait. You’d ghosted your fingers over yourself too many times, always stopping yourself at the last minute before you took it too far, not wanting to disappoint Joel. You know that he’d know, somehow. He could tell the minute he walked in the house, you’d bet - your guilt would permeate every room in the house if you’d disobeyed what he’d asked of you.

It left you a nearly shaking mess, vibrating with excitement as you hear Joel milling around downstairs, the refrigerator opening and the familiar sound of a bottle of beer being opened. You frown slightly, wondering if he’s going to keep up your torturous wait for him until you hear him ascending the stairs. You prop one leg up and drape your hands along your thighs, spreading your baby pink manicured fingers across the skin there, cocking your head and glancing towards the door. The bed faces the door and Joel gets an eyeful of you the moment he appears in the frame, his gaze roaming hungrily over you. He leans one arm on the doorframe, beer in the other hand, observing you from afar.

“Were you good?” he asks, taking a long swig from the bottle.

You nod, whispering a yes to him.

“I know, can tell,” he says, not bothering to explain how he’d know, but you believe him.

“Wanted my reward,” you say meekly, shifting your legs restlessly on the bed.

Joel approaches the bed silently, feet moving purposefully lazily underneath him. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing the top of his chest, and your eyes linger there, catching his curls of hair now peeking out of the top. He takes one more swig before he sets the beer on top of your dresser. He shrugs his shirt off and climbs onto the bed, crawling towards you. His heavy, muscled form keeps you in place as he straddles you, bringing his face only inches from yours.

“You try to touch yourself?” he asks with a little more bite to his tone. His lips find the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose as he speaks.

“A-almost. But I didn’t, I swear,” you say a little too quickly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Thas’ right,” Joel breathes, inching closer to your lips with softening eyes. “My good little wife.”

He brushes his lips against yours and you shudder and moan, the anticipation that’s been building for hours now nearly at a breaking point. Your hips lift off the bed and Joel moves his hands from where they were bracketing your head to your hips, tight and commanding as he stops you from grinding into him.

He slips away from your face, moving down your body towards your aching heat, observing the lingerie you’re wearing along the way. His mouth brushes along the swell of your breasts covered in the lacy, flowery, sheer fabric.

“This looks perfect on ya, sweetheart.” He smirks against your skin and sucks, leaving a mark on each breast before he slides his lips down your stomach, stopping before he reaches the apex of your thighs.

You whine quietly to yourself, and Joel continues to take his time, a finger sliding under the strap of your panties. His eyes drift between your legs and his eyebrows raise.

“Babydoll, you’ve been makin’ a mess again,” Joel tuts, making a greedy little sound in the back of his throat. You can feel how wet you are for him, how you had been practically non stop since you’d left his office and somehow made it home, changed into this bra and panties, and laid down in bed, all of it in a strange fog, only able to focus on getting to this point, to Joel.

You crane your head to see what he’s looking at, the dark stain on your underwear, no doubt full of your slick arousal. Your face warms at him looking at it so intently, seeing just how wretchedly desperate you are for him, that this simple promise of a reward could have made you gush and gush for him.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, tracing his finger along the wet spot, leaving you to shudder again with a hitch of your breath. “Is it all for me, hm? All of this?” Joel’s finger slips underneath the fabric, running his finger along your slit and the inside fabric of your panties, gathering up your arousal.

“Mhm, mhm,” you nod eagerly at his teasing, completely intoxicated by him now.

“Tell me,” he demands, circling your clit a few times, and you cry out.

“It’s all yours.” Your eyes squeeze shut and you buck into his light touches, feeling like your entire being is on fire from the inside out, the intensity of need for Joel becoming nearly sickening, like you’d do anything to keep his attention right now. And you know at the end of the day, you would.

“What is? What’s all mine, little doll?” He speaks so assuredly, so languidly, like he could tease you all day like this and not be bothered. You know he would, too, if that was what would get him off that day, and you shudder to think that could be the case today.

“M-me, my pussy, it’s all yours. Only yours, sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Joel sighs, moving his finger to his mouth and licking it clean in a slow, long stroke. He slowly, tantalizingly pulls your panties down your legs and you feel relief coursing through you that you’re getting that much closer to what you need from him.

Joel takes in the now bare bottom half of your body as he tosses your underwear on the floor. He moves swiftly, grabbing your sides and flipping your body so that you’re straddling his chest and he’s lying underneath you. He begins to pull you forward without a word, inching your aching heat closer to his mouth.

“Better soak my face, y’hear me?” he says before bringing you down and licking a flat, wide stripe up your slit and you cry out.

“Yes!” you call out suddenly, answering his question as you’re overtaken by the warm sensation of his mouth. He knows you so well, knows your body, what you respond to, and he dives right in, flicking his tongue perfectly over your clit a few times, drawing circles over it. You whine, your knees wobbling on either side of his head as you grip the sheets. You can tell you’re already doing exactly what Joel asked of you - there’s what feels like an impossible amount of slickness between your legs, and you can hear the lewd, pornographic sounds as he laps and sucks around your pussy. When his tongue pushes inside of you, you roll your eyes as your hips involuntarily thrust forward into it.

He pulls out for a moment, his breathing heavy against your cunt as he speaks. “What, you wanna fuck my tongue, d’ya, like a dirty little slut?” You nod, forgetting Joel can’t see it, and he tuts. “Answer me, little doll, use your words.”

“Yes, yes, please, let me fuck your face,” you practically sob, your lips going dry as you try to lick them back to life. It’s no use, your mouth drying all over again from the panting breaths Joel is bringing out of you.

“Fuck, dirty thing, such a whore for me, ain’t you?” You feel yourself fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to fill your aching, tightening little hole again.

“Yes, sir, I’m your whore. P-please…” you say, and Joel growls before his tongue pushes back into you, and he gathers your ass in his palms his fingers squeezing both globes tight enough to bruise, and he starts to lift you up and down, controlling the pace that you get to fuck his face. It’s dizzying as you feel him sliding in and out of you, your body bouncing on top of him, completely out of your control.

“F-ff-uck,” you moan, “My - my clit, Joel, I’m so close,” you cry feebly, barely able to get the words out. Joel pushes his nose inward, making sure it’s rubbing your clit each time he snaps your hips back down onto his face.

“Oh, right there, riiight there, yes!” you scream, and Joel goes harder as he senses you tensing up, your cunt pulsating and starting to quiver around his tongue. If anything, he starts to pull your hips down harder each time, and your eyes roll back as you squeeze them shut, your vision going bright white while your entire body responds to the pleasure. You feel your brain go fuzzy and your skin burning with the need for him finally releasing, his name falling from your lips over and over again.

Joel slows the thrusts a bit at a time, letting you ride the heavenly aftershocks into his mouth until you can barely take it anymore and you find yourself squirming to throw yourself onto the bed next to him. Joel lets you go and you roll over onto your back, panting with your eyes shut.

Joel is instantly on you again, wrapping an arm around your chest and kissing the side of your face. Your body still craves more of him, so you turn to meet his lips, tasting yourself on them and feeling how wet his beard is while it rubs against your skin. It’s igniting something dirty and primal and feral inside of you to have your own arousal on your tongue as it dances into Joel’s mouth.

His hand drifts to your breast, groping it and sliding a hand underneath your bra, running a thumb over your nipple. You whine when he tugs it harder and roll your body to lay on your side and get closer to him. Your hips start to grind on his leg, already seeking more friction from him again.

“Need me to fuck this little pussy so bad, huh?” Joel says against your lips, the vibration of his low baritone tickling your bottom lip.

“Mhm,” you practically whisper, a moan catching in your throat when he shoves a hand between your bodies directly to the apex of your thighs. He brushes his fingers along your overly sensitive clit and you twitch your hips into it.

“I missed you…” you say quietly as you put your hands to his belt and start to unbuckle it. You don’t even realize how absurd the words are, how short a time you’ve been apart from Joel to be saying that, but it was true. You’d keep Joel in this bed all to yourself if you could, if he never had to leave the house for work.

“My poor little doll, needin’ me to come fuck her senseless, waitin’ so patiently,” Joel says sympathetically while you work on freeing his cock, sending it slapping out and onto your belly as you press closer to him. He’s irritatingly calm and collected, knowing it’s driving you even madder with need and lust for him.

He pulls your thigh up over his leg as you lay facing each other, and he presses his cock between your legs, rubbing through your oversensitive folds and enjoying how quickly he’s covered in slick arousal. Your eyes roll back and you whimper, your pussy aching and tender, but needing him inside of you all the same.

He rolls you flat on your back and presses his lips to your neck, sucking gently and flicking his tongue over the little sore spots he’s making. You squirm your hips in search of him, and he grabs under your legs, pulling them up by the knees to wrap around his hips.

“Please, baby,” you beg, feeling him teasing your entrance, the bulbous head nearly bursting into you, giving you what you want. He retreats, looking down to see you purse your lips and huff out in frustration.

When he finally pushes his length inside of you, inch by deliciously tortuous inch until you’re full of him and he’s pressing himself against your deepest parts you moan out shakily.

He moves slowly, dragging his cock in and out of you as you clench and unclench around him. You’re sure that the fluttering you’re doing around his length is making Joel crazy, but he’s not showing it, and you both love and hate just how easily you fall apart for him while he can remain so composed for you.

“Yeah, that good, baby? That what you wanted? Or you need to be drunk on this cock, have me fuck your tight little hole till it’s all used up?” He pushes down on your shoulders, sinking you down into the mattress as he keeps up his frustratingly slow pace.

“Shit, Joel, use me, please,” you cry out, grasping at the sheets and arching your body into him. He moves suddenly, with a gracefulness and speed you sometimes forget that he has as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and starts to jackhammer into you.

It’s only then that you see it on his face, the way he falls apart for you, when you freely give yourself to him, tell him to use you. He contorts his face, sweat starting to gleam on his forehead as he ruts into you over and over, sending you bouncing towards the edge of the bed with his rough movements in and out of you.

Use me use me use me you chant under your breath like a sacred prayer to him, feeling your head starting to go off the side of the bed, hanging down while you lose yourself to Joel’s cock, eyes glazing over and vision swimming.

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” Joel snips, a hand shooting out to grab at your throat, pressing you further against the side of the bed. You choke out a moan as he squeezes and grunts, simultaneously taking and giving to you in hard, frenzied jerks of his hips. “Can’t b-be gettin’ away from me, gotta let me use this pussy up, ‘member?”

You can’t speak, can’t reply, can barely even think in full words as you feel him fold your body in half further, pressing on the spongy part inside of you every time he pushes inside of you, his balls slapping loudly against your ass with each movement. You can only croak out moaning sobs as the pressure inside of you builds to a burning, aching release. He squeezes your throat harder and you break, crying out in your strangled, little voice as you gush, your entire body shaking uncontrollably underneath him.

Your cunt spasms so hard around him your hips start to arch, but he urges them back down with his free hand, using it to anchor himself and fuck into you harder, chasing his own high along with yours as your walls squeeze him. You can feel so much of him, every bit of his length fucking into you as you try to milk his orgasm out of him, fluttering repeatedly.

“T-too much, f-fuck,” you cry out in a rasp, “Joel, fuck me, I’m g-gonna -“ you’re cut off by your own desperate, screeching moan as you soak everything, cumming hard around his cock and squirting, covering Joel’s jeans, the sheets, everything. You shudder as you come down and feel Joel still jacking himself off furiously inside your tight, spent cunt, grunting and cursing.

“So fuckin’ messy, fuckin’ filthy ain’t you, doll,” Joel mumbles as he slams into you with a few hard thrusts. He groans long and low before shoving himself as deep as he can, releasing your throat and spilling himself, claiming you as he paints your walls with his cum.

You’re gasping for air from the intensity of everything, slick with sweat all over and your combined spends between your legs as Joel pulls out and immediately gathers you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“Sweet little doll,” he mumbles, his lips ghosting across your hairline. “You’re good?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out confidently, barely able to open your eyes except to peek at Joel’s concerned eyes settling back into satisfaction as he runs his fingers down your bare arm, goosebumps cropping up at his touch. You shiver a little as your sweat starts to dry and Joel pulls you in even tighter, nuzzling your neck.

“You were such a good girl today, y’know that?” Joel says softly as he attaches his lips to the skin underneath your jawline.

“I was?” you ask shyly, popping your eyes open to look at him in questioning.

“Mm, of course, thank you for helpin’ me today.” Joel moves so the two of you are propped up on the pillows, legs stretched down the bed and intertwined together. “Never would take you for granted - the lunches, the sweet girl I got, y’know all that?”

“I know, I know,” you say soothingly, cupping your hand around his cheek. “You give me everything, Joel, it’s the least I could do.”

“I'm gonna have to argue and say you do that, do everythin’,” Joel says, a half smile tugging the corner of his lips as his eyes sparkle mischievously now. You pinch his nose and squeeze it, scrunching your face at him in disapproval.

“Agree to disagree?” you say, one of your phrases for when you know that it’ll be a completely fruitless faux argument, that neither one of you will admit that the other is the more perfect spouse. You know deep down that it isn’t even close to the point anyways, that the only thing that matters is how perfect you both feel being together. Your heart warms along with your body as you feel your husband so close, exhaustion overtaking you from the roller coaster of a day you’d had with him and your eyes flutter shut again.

“Agree to disagree, darlin’.” Joel sighs, tilting your face up to his.

He kisses you, and the thought flashes through your mind that you’d never choose it to be any other way, any other person in the entire world to make you feel this giddy, this desired, this… like yourself.

taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito @msmorningstaarr @kamcrazy123 @madhere @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups

(sorry i haven't been updating as much to everyone who reads my stories, i've been going through a lot of insecurity lately and it's been hard for me to be inspired when i'm comparing myself to others or just being an insecure mess so anyway ty for bearing with me)

#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #x reader

589 notes · View notes

hoshinasblade · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I love ur Hoshina fics sm!

Anyway you were asking for headcanons last time, do you think our Hoshina sends dick pics to his s/o? I'm not sure if you write nsfw but it will be fun to read if ever! Thanks x

HAHAHA anon, this is so interesting. minors, please don't interact with this one.

honestly i dont think hoshina is above sending thirst traps - he would be the type to send you a picture of him topless while still sweaty after his workout, and he'll probably throw a peace sign or two and tell you that he's just tryna be cute. liar liar, pants on fire. he gets his kicks on knowing he can fluster you with that. im a bit hesitant on dick pics though, and it's not because i think hoshina is a prude - hell no - but i think it's because he was never able to get a good angle ever so he doesn't think it's sexy enough for you to look at. and let's be honest, if he's gonna send you a picture of his immaculate junk, he would rather go to you and show it personally. im assuming he's got more privileges and therefore freedom so he can roam around even after-hours or get out of the base when he's not that needed.

one nsfw headcanon i have for this guy though is that though he never sends dick pics, he excels at moaning audios. his voice would be deep and husky from both sleepiness and lust, and he would just sound really, really hot. you mentioned to him once that you liked him dirty talking during sex and it activated a switch in his brain that you can't turn back off. he had definitely sent you multiple voice messages where you can hear him moan while he's touching himself. you overheated the first time you listened to it.

also yes, i have some nsfw prompts lined up, just gotta look for some momentum and chance to write. i know i yap a lot here but i also work full-time so that makes writing a bit hard for me since my process takes longer than i sometimes intend it to be. it's always worth it though hehe i like writing for hoshina. if you have a specific nsfw scenario you want me to write about, feel free to let me know and i can possibly whip up even a drabble or a one-shot for you.

#lian replies #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #lian's thoughts #kn8 x reader

231 notes · View notes

kjwluvr · 14 days ago

Text

Drunkie-mergency!

°˖➴ pairing: best friend!riwoo x f!reader

°˖➴ genre: best friend to lovers, drunk confession, fluff

°˖➴ WARNINGS: mentions of drinking

°˖➴ word count: 778 words

°˖➴ a/n: hehe first one shot!! Randomly had this idea and decided to write it, hope yall like it!

The air was chilly with the scent of river water and soju, laughter coming from the tents lining next to the Han River. A gentle breeze rustled the flaps of the small pocha, with fairy lights hung neatly inside it casting a soft glow on flushed cheeks and empty glasses.

“Yah, you”, you say, pointing to the soju bottle you were holding, “Lee Riwoo. Who gave you the permission to live in my mind? Rent free even!” You plopped your head onto the table while giggling to yourself, finding what you have said amusing.

The shop owner, a kind ahjumma, shook her head with a fond sigh. “Poor thing. Must’ve had a rough day.”

She walked over to your table and picked up your phone. She looked through the emergency contact list and found the contact number saved with a cute heart; Riwoo 💕

────────

While brushing his teeth to get ready for bed, Riwoo heard his phone ring on the sink. YN🌷

He chuckled to himself. “Who does she think she is, calling me at this time?” he mumbled under his breath. He let the phone ring for some time before deciding to give in and pick up.

“Hello? Is this Riwoo?” an unfamiliar voice was heard on the other line. Frowning his eyebrows in confusion, Riwoo replied “Yes, this is Riwoo. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m a shop owner of a pocha next to the Han River. There’s a lady here who keeps talking to her soju bottle while mentioning your name. I decided to scroll through her emergency contact list and found your contact. She seems very drunk, so could you help to pick her up?”

“Ah, ok, I’ll head over there now.” He sighed before throwing on a hoodie and wore sandals then rushed out the door.

────────

Riwoo arrived fifteen minutes later, breathless and worried. The ahjumma pointed to the bundled girl laying on the tables, cheeks rosy, nose red and body shivering from the chill breeze.

“She drank three bottles by herself,” the ahjumma explained, shaking her head. “She wouldn’t stop mentioning you while talking to herself.”

Riwoo thanked the kind shop owner before heading in your direction. He kneeled next to you and brushed the hair out of your face, admiring your soft features. “YN… hey, are you ok?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and squinted. “Oh Riwoo! How did you know I was here? Do you have some super powers?” you lazily spoke with a sloppy grin.

He scoffed before helping you up. “I’m here to save you, dummy. Lets get you home.”

────────

It wasn’t his first time giving you a piggyback ride, but this time it felt different. Your arms clung more tightly around his neck, and your breath tickled his neck as you hummed softly.

“You’re back is warm… like a perfectly warm bed to sleep in after a cold day”

Riwoo smiled, cheeks turning pink. “Just don’t drool on me like you do every time you are drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” you protested. “I’m just filled with emotional drinks.”

“Whatever floats your boat, YN. I’m just glad you didn’t fall into the river.”

He carried you across a bridge, the lights dancing on the calm river. You softened your voice against the background of cars and waves.

“Riwoo… can I tell you a secret?”

He adjusted you on his back. “You’re already spilling everything today. Might as well.”

“I think I like you…”

The world stopped for a moment. The sound of the busy city was drowned by your words replaying in his head. He stopped in his tracks, the pounding of his heart growing faster as his breath hitched, filling the silence between the two of you.

“Wha- what did you say…?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I like you, you dummy. I didn’t want to tell you cause I thought it would ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep it in any longer… especially when you’re this close…”

Riwoo let the words hang in the air, while trying to grasp the whole thing. Finally, he let out a breath.

“I think… I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

You didn’t reply — your breath evening out.

Riwoo let out a soft laugh. “Of course you would fall asleep after saying something like that.”

He tightened his grip around your legs and continued walking, his heart lighter than the girl on his back. He kept glancing to you with a sweet smile that stayed throughout the whole journey.

────────

Maybe you wouldn’t remember everything that happened.

But he would.

And he would make sure you were sober the next time he says it back.

°˖➴ tags: @lvlyhiyyih @coriihanniee @prodkwh

masterlist

#kjwluvr ⋆˙⟡#kjwluvr oneshot #oneshot #boynextdoor riwoo #riwoo #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bnd imagines #riwoo x reader

39 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 2 years ago

Text

calico

navi | taglist

pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader

w.c.: 3.1k

tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....

the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.

warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*

A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.

Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.

A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.

“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.

Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?

Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”

Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.

“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.

You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.

“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.

“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.

“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.

You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.

“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same,’

Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.

‘it’s just another show,

Don’t want your world no more,’

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.

“Yeah.”

Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’

“How’s bartending been?”

“It’s okay.”

He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”

Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”

Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.

A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.

“You don’t get to blame me-”

He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”

Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.

Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same.’

Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.

Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.

Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”

Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”

You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.

“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.

“Sh-shut up-”

He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.

“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”

And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.

His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.

“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”

Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.

So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”

“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.

With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.

He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.

“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.

“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.

He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.

While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines

1K notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 8 months ago

Text

Like That?

Summary: Would you like that?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 684

Warnings: flirty reader, equally flirty grayson cus hes no longer depresso espresso woohoo 🥳

A/n: this was fun writing hehe i just sat down and almost finished writing it in one go lol.

BASED ON THE SONG 'LIKE THAT' BY BABYMONSTER 🥳 i love them yall and the song is like 😚🤌🏻

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYY 🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n could see the look on his face. Even when she turned away from him when her best friend Alana called for her, her mind could not erase the sight.

Stop staring.

If the two kept staring at each other, Y/n knew she would have to walk to him. She knew she wanted to hear what he would say.

But still, deep down she also knew wished for him to never stop, what with the way she could not help but preen under his gaze.

"He might have high standards. He’s a Hawthorne, after all."

Y/n hummed. She could never hide her true thoughts from Alana, having grown up together. The two were more like sisters than friends. Of course she’d noticed where Y/n’s attention was fixed as she leaned against the wall, a glass of something in her hand.

Y/n was too occupied with staring into his soul to care for what she held.

"So do I."

Y/n knew Alana only said that to protect Y/n. Being two months older, she acted like her mother, always taking note of things Y/n decided were too trivial to be bothered by.

"There might be a hundred girls who want him." Y/n could feel her intense gaze on her face.

She nodded. "And maybe they know what he needs. But, can they make him stay forever?" Y/n shot her friend a wink, finally looking away from his intense stare. "I don’t think so."

With that, Y/n slipped away, her drink shoved into her friend’s hands and already forgotten as she skirted the room’s perimeter, inching ever closer to the man on her mind.

And maybe the prize of her life.

But just as she arrived at the alcove he’d been standing against, his eyes fixed on her even as he conversed with well known businessmen, he was gone. Not even an indication that he had been there just moments prior left behind.

"Looking for someone?" A voice that was human reincarnation of seductiveness and authority whispered almost directly in Y/n’s ear

Y/n glanced back at the source of the voice, goosebumps already prickling the exposed skin of her arms.

His eyes gazed back at her, perfect brows arched and the slightest, barely there tilt to his full lips.

"Yes. Maybe you could help?" Y/n turned to face him fully, the smile that rose to her lips unbidden and full of mischief.

"Maybe. Who were you searching for?" He mumbled as he stepped closer, his intense gaze wandering down her figure for a moment before meeting hers again.

"A grey eyed prince charming. Or you know what? Scratch that. A warrior like physique. Straight out of fantasy books." Y/n eyed the straining muscles in his forearms and biceps as she changed her statement, wondering how good they’d look without the confinement of clothes. "He had hair like liquid moonlight, and looked ready to devour me whole."

Despite the way his smirk grew, Y/n delighted in the way his ears turned red. "Hmm. So a cannibal?"

Y/n huffed. "You’re funny too? My my. However will my heart survive?"

He grinned, shaking his head as he extended his hand. "Grayson Hawthorne."

She smiled back, letting the flirty personality go for a moment. "Y/n Fox."

He offered her a lopsided tilt of his lips. "I can see you take after your last name very well."

Y/n threw back her head and laughed, unable to control herself. "God, it’s been a long time since a man made me laugh."

He raised a brow. "You wound me. Do you think I am only capable of making you laugh?"

Y/n giggled. "Well then, show me what you’re capable of, Hawthorne, and maybe I will come closer. I might even let you be the father of my future children."

She leaned closer.

"Would you like that?"

He grinned, like this was the most exciting experience he’d had in quite a while, her hand still clasped in his as he mirrored her movement.

"I will."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

permanent taglist: @berryzxx

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #tig fanfic #tig x reader #grayson x y/n #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x you

57 notes · View notes

heartandeye · 2 months ago

Text

《 a dream of better times 》 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘺𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴

← ch 4 | series masterlist

➵ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: sylus x male!mc ➵ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Plagued by nightmares of memories you don't remember, you think Sylus is in love with a you that no longer exists. You push him away, but you are always drawn back to him in the end. ➵ ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of brother!Caleb ➵ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: attempted kidnapping, grief/mourning ➵ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ? nope ➵ ᴡᴄ: ~6.3k ➵ read on ao3

A/N: the final narrative installment of this series! this chapter took me so fucking long to write. i got lost in the sauce, and tbh i don't even know if i accomplished what goal i set out to end with in the first place. i may or may not have a bonus chapter in the works. my next fic series idea will be based on caleb, so it'll comprise of one shots of memories and scenarios he's lived up until he explodes in main story hehe. if you have any ideas or requests of some sweet summer memories, please let me know in my ask! thank you again for reading, reblogging, and liking! it means so much to me c:

When you come out of the shower almost an hour later, you already expect the change of clothes on a stand next to the bathroom door: a black shirt and charcoal sweats. He’s stopped buying you new clothes every time. Instead, he’s been lending you his clothes from his personal wardrobe. They hang a little loose on you since his frame is a little bigger than yours, but otherwise they fit well enough. This time, you forgo the shirt, your skin still warm from the hot shower.

You tighten the strings around the waistband of your pants and step out of the bathroom, a towel draped around your bare shoulders so you can ruffle your hair dry later.

The master bedroom you chose is the one that is the farthest from Sylus’ bedroom. You chose it the first time he presented you the options, and although at first you reluctantly resigned yourself to the base, now this room feels like home too. Another place where you can let the exhaustion take over you — where you’re the clothes and it is you. Your chest deflates with a heavy sigh at the thought of going to bed, where the nightmares will hook their claws into your brain like vultures scavenging a long awaited meal.

You feel the heavy weight of his gaze before you register that he’s even there. When you look over, he’s leaning against the doorway, a first aid kit in his hands. You’re not sure how long he’s been silently standing there.

He’s changed into a gray sweater and black pants, hair still damp from his own shower. You try not to think about if he stocked all the bathrooms with the same shampoo he uses, or how you and him now have the same shower gel scent clinging to your bodies.

And while you restrain yourself, he continues to watch you — a lion in wait surveying their battered prey. Your grip on the towel around your shoulders tighten when you see his eyes settle especially where the band of your underwear peak over his sweatpants before flicking back up to your eyes.

Suddenly warmer and a bit more vulnerable than when you came out of the shower, you wish you had put on that shirt.

“May I come in?” he asks, calm despite you storming off earlier. You can’t get a good read on his expression. Whether it’s because you’re so tired or because he’s put on a mask of his own, you’re not entirely sure.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you said no. Would he go obediently into the night? Would that unreadable expression contort into something full of resentment? Or, would those solemn red eyes melt into a quiet agony again, like the night you couldn’t resonate with him?

The moment passes. You give one singular, apprehensive nod. The tentative air in the room is tangible, almost ticklish. The kind of sensation that triggers a fight-or-flight response — and lately, you’ve been a flight risk more often than not when it comes to him.

Sylus crosses the threshold into the small domain you’ve claimed as yours in the vast territory of his. He’s always been polite about entering your room, always a quiet and yielding question before he carves himself into your space. Yet you could count on one hand how many times he would come to this side of the floor and intrude on your peace.

You think he should come see you more often, catch you off guard like right now. Have those hungry eyes linger on your skin — as if there’s no other way he could look at you. This place is his, after all. (And you…)

You think you’d like him to make the first move once in a while. Fill up your hands with proof that he wants to see you. Fill your hands with him — his skin, his face, his hair.

God, even now, you think it’d be nice to melt yourself into his arms and just forget everything. He could take you back to that valley again, and maybe stand between you and your demons. You could live in a dream, losing yourself where reality can’t find you.

If only it weren’t for the sight of those flowers, swaying gently in the wind. They’re waiting for someone else, aren’t they? And you’re pathetic enough to soak up their patience. It sure as hell beats everything else you’ve been seeing in your sleep. How much could a pinch of selfishness hurt?

“Come here,” he says, his voice slicing through the veil of your thoughts. He’s sitting on the sofa, the first aid kit he brought with him opened on the coffee table.

Again, you think to decline for a split second. You want to resist that pull he has on you, to defy him out of whatever small pride you have left in you. Really, you just want to run away back home to familiarity, good or bad.

Instead, your feet carry you to the seat next to him, but you don’t sit down. Strands of your wet hair drip water droplets as your tired eyes look down at him.

“You said you’d give me answers,” you say to him.

He doesn’t blink at your guarded words. “I need to treat your wounds first.”

You make no move. “First I have to come to your base. Now I have to get treated. You’re not trying to weasel your way out of the deal you proposed, are you?” Your behavior isn’t fair. Anyone would be worried to see you in the state you’re in. You know that. Yet bitterness still tinges your words because you like that he’s fussing over you more than you should.

“You saved me back there. How can I let my hero walk around my base in such bad shape?” Sylus is born with a silver tongue. It’s all a part of his career, his carefully crafted persona.

But the furrowed brow, the sigh he gives? That’s not a part of his act. He continues, “Rest assured, I always keep my end of the bargain. So sit — we can talk after I look at your wounds.”

He gently tugs on your hand, and your body follows suit like a doll, nice and easy. You could never resist him for long.

“Let me see,” he orders, motioning with his head for you to turn around. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, medicinal cream in hand with the cap already off.

You hesitate. It didn’t look pretty in the mirror, and you don’t want him to think you’re this careless all the time. One glower, though, and you concede reluctantly.

He doesn’t have to say anything for you to tell he is unimpressed with the state of your shoulder.

“These last few weeks have been rough,” you admit. “But this is nothing new. My teammates and I get banged up pretty regularly. I’m used to it.”

“Regularly? The training regimen at the Hunters Association must be sub par. Train with me for a few weeks and you won’t get hurt like this again.”

His offer sounds more like a threat. When he rips the bandage, the sharp sound of the adhesive tearing from the rest of the roll grates on your ears. But when he takes your arm to wrap it, he’s gentle.

“Or would you rather I tag along on your missions?” The questions slips from him innocently enough.

“Absolutely not,” you say immediately. The scene of having to explain his presence to your colleagues without surrendering his identity already gives you another headache. When you toss a pleading look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find that he looks quite serious.

“Then take better care of yourself.” When he touches the darkening galaxy bruise on your shoulder, you flinch. “Hold still. It’ll be over soon.”

The cream is cold on your skin before it warms up between his finger and your body. You suck your breath in through your teeth, but Sylus ignores it, taking his sweet time to finish treating every small scratch he can find. Every gentle press elicits a twitch or a wince.

“Can’t you be a bit more gentle?” you ask, half joking to dispel the small amount of tension in the air. “I’m the victim here.” Truthfully, it’s the nerves from being around him in such close quarters than it is about the pain. His touch, his gaze — they all sizzle on your skin.

“My poor kitten is injured. He must be treated even if it hurts.” He sticks a patch over the medicine and finally lets you go.

You try not to act like you’re hurrying to put on the shirt he lent you, glad that even if it’s another layer of him, you now have something between your skin and his. Some form of armor from his eyes and his hands.

“And what about you? You must have gotten a few injuries yourself since…” the last time we spoke. The words fizzle out on your tongue when you remember the last time you were both in the same place. “Well, there must be something I can look at,” you say, your tentative wellness check disguised as shoddy payback.

A hint of a smile curls the corner of his lip. “Unlike a certain someone, I can take care of myself.”

Truly, he looks completely fine — as usual. Not a hair out of place. You let your eyes roam his exposed forearms, where what few old scars are raised against his otherwise flawless skin.

You haven’t given any thought as to what your first question would be, yet it comes off the tip of your tongue effortlessly. “Did I — she — take care of you? When you were hurt before.”

He stiffens ever so slightly, caught off guard by your question. Business has now begun.

He dutifully responds, “Yes. I… was taken care of.”

It’s strange to see Sylus uncomfortable. There were times you thought nothing could phase him. It must be true that the past can never be outrun. It lingers like rotten fruit on the ground and hangs the heart like a gallows.

The urge to brush your fingertips over the skin that those other hands have touched washes over you.

Only a moment later, Sylus takes your hand and presses it to his arm. You’ve missed how hot his body runs and how it warms you slowly, then all at once.

“If you want something, just reach out and grab it,” he says with some amusement.

That damn eye of his that sees your heart so clearly is cheating. All the questions you ever had, and he had always kept what you wanted from you — just out of reach — when he could have taken your hand just like that. And whatever may happen, he remains infuriatingly unbothered, while you grasp at the crumbs he throws at your feet to salvage something of yourself.

You withdraw your hand. “This must be so easy for you.” The accusation comes smoothly, surprising even yourself.

Sylus huffs with laughter. “Nothing is ever easy when it comes to you.” He speaks to the you now and the you unknown. Or he’s speaking to himself — another bitter inside joke.

Your voice is sharp with ice as you say, “Can you blame me? You said I owed you a life, made me shoot you, then dodged every question I have. How am I supposed to play my part in this little play you’ve created?”

His eyes narrow at you, and whatever gentleness you saw has an edge to it now. His voice lowers into a dangerous growl. “I want to make it clear that I have always done what I wanted. You’re also free to do as you please. Don’t get any ideas in your head that there’s some crafted role you and I are meant to play.”

In an instant, the embers of your anger that has festered in you for so long catches flame all at once. You don’t care if you've pissed him off.

“What do you even want with me? Is it the aether core? Resonance? You’re already so powerful. Why are you trying so hard to fit me into your schedule like…” Like you want to see me.

You stop yourself, unsure if it’s wise to say the unspoken. Instead, you ask, “Are you hoping that I might just one day remember everything?”

You’re not sure what you want his answer to be, whether to prove you right or wrong.

Do you really want me?

You want him to say it. You want him to be honest.

(You don’t want him to say anything. You want him to lie to you.

You want him to throw you any sort of lifeline between the you and the him that is here now.)

He is unabashed as as he considers your expression — as unreadable as his. Eventually, he says it quietly. “I do.”

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath. His answer is neither barbed nor soothing. It fills the gap between your bodies on the sofa, heavy with something akin to grief — some mutation of it that has evolved past its life cycle.

Yet, despite the hard set in his jaw and the silence that comes after, you still want to ask.

You want to press your thumbs between the chinks of his defenses into his flesh, a visceral wont that urges you to dig deeper and deeper until his beating heart is exposed for you to rend apart until you’re satisfied.

You need to see him break apart in your hands, to know that he understands the pain of loss like you understand it now.

( Like you understood it back then, long after the sword pommel has left your hand, replaced by red petals slipping through your fingers into the wind.)

You blink, bewildered at yourself. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Sylus has always been honest with you — and the truth doesn’t discriminate no matter who it is that speaks it.

But you — you simply want to find relief in wounds that can’t be bandaged or dressed with topical cream. This is the kind of demand that breeds pain. Your grief has folded into itself, curdled into something rank. In dreams, in reality, maybe you are always destined to drive a blade into his heart.

And you don’t want to do that to him anymore.

“Sometimes the absence of an answer is better if words will only hurt. A convenient, if frustrating, form of protection.”

…Or is it that you didn’t want to hurt yourself?

You are nothing like Sylus. He enjoys the quiet of solitude.

And you, after an entire year of it, you are sick of its silence. It cuts into you with every Metaflux-related news, with every time you accidentally scroll too far in your messages and see that apple profile picture — and the deepest cut is when after picking up those death certificates, there was no longer any way to quiet that terrible, terrible pang for braised chicken wings.

This whole year you’ve been losing this fight against phantoms and they keep appearing to beat you into submission. There’s not much left of you to submit at this point.

Frustration wells up within you — it’s always lived in you from sun up to sun down lately. You don’t know when this sludge has lodged into your heart and seeped into your soul. Some days you can’t even remember what you used to enjoy doing, or taste the food in your mouth. In between the sleepless nights of murder and the quiet mornings that remind you of what is gone, you’ve started to lose yourself.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Your fingers itch for the knife that you left on the streets of the N109 Zone. The image reflected in its blade was just that — an image. It’s serrated blade is no camera. And besides, you’re tired of pictures. They’re just relics of memories held captive by someone who longs to turn back time. And what use is longing?

A weapon, on the other hand, is much more practical. Better to cut ties with than to remind yourself of what’s left behind.

That you are left behind.

“That’s enough,” you say to yourself and get up from the sofa. You’re not sure if you can handle any other answers tonight. Maybe you’ll try again another day. Or maybe you’ll leave the what-ifs and doubts at your doorstep, where they’ll greet you on every rising sun to remind you of the courage you lack.

You take long strides to the door, too eager to escape. You don’t even know where you’re trying to go — another of the millions of rooms in the Onychinus base, or home where you can curl up in the darkness with that taunting necklace — but your fingers wrap around the doorknob, poised to swing it inward —

— and the crack you manage to pry open immediately slams shut.

Sylus’ fist is planted by your head on the heavy wood, gluing it to the door frame with his strength. He’s so close you could feel the heat of his body through the knit of his sweater and the fabric of your shirt, feel the slight brush of his breath on the back of your neck, feel his hair grazing your skin as he lowers his head to yours.

He speaks softly, his voice filling the shell of your ear and sending tremors from the base of your skull down the length of your spine. “Keep asking me. You have questions, and I have answers. So, keep asking me.”

He could have used his Evol to lock the door or to restrain you, to force you to turn around and face him. Yet here he is, personally negotiating with you like there is something on the line if this deal falls through.

But it works, this businessman’s way of persuasion. So you turn around, and it takes you a moment before you can meet his eyes, trapped between him and the door. What is it that he sees for there to be such a storm in those beautiful red eyes of his?

“Missed one,” Sylus says with a click of his tongue, and you realize he’s talking about the cut on your jaw. It doesn’t even hurt, but the way his brows are knitting together, you’d think you would need stitches. It makes your heart beat a little faster, a little harder, and you think that even with the shirt on your skin and the space between the two of you, he can sense it innately like an animal.

“Don’t do this,” you say, turning away.

“What am I doing?”

“Don’t act like you actually care about me .” You hate the way your voice cracks on that last word. It sounds exactly like how you feel.

The edge around his voice is rough as he says, “I do care about you.” Then, like before with waning confidence and what sounds like wary hope, he says, “I missed you these last few weeks. I could only hear about you through Mephisto. You have no idea how much I wanted to see you. I was worried.”

He speaks to you like a long-lost lover. Like it wasn’t three weeks that passed but three centuries. Those three words I missed you have a force of their own, and you’re afraid of them because you know precisely what sort of weight they carry. You’ve said them yourself once, twice — and the love nestled in them now has nowhere to go.

But Sylus’ words are different — dangerous, even. They are released into the air like locked-on missiles.

“No. I’m — ” you say, throwing your hands up in surrender.

I’m afraid.

Sylus cuts in before you can out yourself. “You said earlier that it must be easy for me.”

His eyes are glowing brighter than usual, so intent on enveloping your entire being that you can’t suppress the small electric tingles running beneath your skin. His eyes have never lied to you, and even now they are full of sincerity, pain, longing — and cautious hope.

And in those bright eyes of his, you see yourself reflected. You try not to wither under his thoughtful gaze as you stay upright against the door he’s caged you with. “I don’t care about easy. What matters more to me… is that you’re here.”

You blurt out, “I can’t remember anything. I’m useless to you.”

He tilts his head. “You have never been useless to me. Those memories seem to matter less and less the more time I spend with you. There are other things that are more important now.”

Though you say nothing, your questioning look gives you away.

Sylus’s smirk is brief before he continues, “When you’re with me you like to put up quite a fight. I don’t mind that at all. But when you’re with others, you look like you’re enjoying yourself. And…”

He draws away from you. The absence of his body warmth leaves you wanting to chase a step towards him, but you don’t.

“And what?” you prompt.

The steady gaze never leaves your face as he says, “You don’t smile like that when I’m around. And I mind that very much.”

You’re taken aback for a second. Was he… pouting? Something as simple as a smile — well, then again, aren’t you the same, crying at a side of him you’ve never seen as he lay in a bed of flowers? What was it he said when you first met — you and I are the same. True kindred spirits.

“You don’t smile around me like that either.” Your eyes fall to the curve of his lips. “You really looked happy there in that dream.” You have to swallow a bolt of nervousness before you can ask, “What was that place?”

“It was... a haven we never had.” He meets your eyes again, and there is an unexpected and immeasurable softness you find there, along with a damning hint of pain. This is the first time you’ve seen Sylus sound so vulnerable. “It’s a moment of peace when I need it.”

“Why… did you show me something so personal?” you ask, curling at the edges of your doubt despite yourself.

“I thought it would help. You deserve a dream of better times, like this one, not visions of us at our worst. That’s not who you are. You deserve to be free of bygone sins — to live freely.”

Your breath hitches at his words. That’s not who you are. All this time you’ve been waiting for him to define you, wanting him to tell you who exactly you must be. But he’s never said any of that, did he? Wrapped up in everything else, you simply added those expectations to yourself all on your own.

“You should have come to see me and say that earlier,” you say, hands curling into fists. “You stayed away.”

“There was a chance you’d get better if I wasn’t around. I didn’t want you to bear a past that no longer has a place here. But… even my best efforts are still tied to those memories.”

The regret is etched in the line between his brows, that all he can do is give you more of the past to soothe the sting of those nightmares.

You wonder if that dream of the flower field is also his personal hell. When he enters to find peace and stands alone among those waiting flowers, what expression does he wear when he sways in the wind along with those red petals?

Maybe it’s the same one you wear when you look up at the sky and see jet streams cutting by.

You take a step forward. Under his watchful eye, you carefully place your hand on the center of his chest. Under the fabric — under skin and muscle and bone — you can feel that quickened heartbeat of his. It thumps solidly against you, like it longs to burst forth and touch you back.

The heart is the body’s most precious gem, guarded by layers of muscle and fat and conscious decision-making. Any harm to it and the body dies. Yet he lets you touch it again, despite all you have done to him. You think he is a reflection of his heart, and you — yours is still sore with longing and grief. You wonder what it’d be like if he could touch yours too.

When you open your mouth to speak, the words start pouring out. “You die every night in my dreams. Sword, gun — it doesn’t matter which. It doesn’t matter who.” Even now, you shake recalling those nightmares, like you’re kneeling there again amidst the fire and brimstone; the finality of his death a torturous proof that hell does exist. “My hands are always wet with your blood, and there’s always a hole in your heart.”

Sylus doesn’t move away from your hand, nor does he press closer to you. He lets you speak, lets you open up some of that pain to give away to him. You’re like a bird, always hiding your hurt until the very end. So when the words come, he accepts all of it.

You take another step towards him, then another and another, until you’re pushing him onto the sofa. Your shadow falls across his face as you lean over him, one knee crooked next to his thigh. He looks up at you with such tenderness that your chest tightens.

“The night we met, you tried to…” To make me remember what I did to you. You struggle with the words, not for his crime of wanting to resonate with you, but because you felt guilty for not being able to be what he needed — what he wanted.

The first time those memories took form in your brain, you had asked, That… was real?

He answered you with the barest hint of bitterness, If I say yes, will you give me a sincere apology?

Now he stays silent with expectation, waiting for you to finish that sentence. To condemn him like he once did to you and even the score. It makes you sick how he thinks he deserves your vengeance, incapable of being forgiven as he looks up at you like a sinner before his god.

Don’t you deserve to be free of bygone sins, too?

You remember how he squeezed your trigger finger and the way his blood splattered from his chest, how his face was illuminated in pain for just a moment.

In the end, it’s always the pain in his determined face that lingers in your mind. Not the blood, not the wound, but how he thinks it’s right that he’s the one who must hurt.

“Sylus.” The way you say his name now is different from when you were helpless on the ground and sighing it into the shattered visor of your helmet like it’s your last prayer. Now it’s decisive, full of clarity even if you’re not sure what it is you want to say just yet.

He gazes at you, tense with the longing to take your bruised and cracked soul and sew it stitch by careful stitch with threads of gold. His attention, just like in those three days he wanted so badly for you to simply remember , is completely and unwaveringly on you.

This time, though, you meet him head on instead of shrinking back.

“These hands of mine are rough and calloused,” you say.

His eyes fall to where you have your hand splayed in the center of his chest, and he gently takes it in his. He pulls you fully towards him onto his lap, your legs straddling either side of him.

You can’t help how your heart kicks in your chest when he slowly slips his fingers between yours, like he’s always wanted to do this. It’s how he’s studying the way they’re joined, turning your hand this way and that before pressing his lips softly to the back of your hand. The contact of his lips with your skin zings through your arm.

“And they fit perfectly in mine,” he says gently.

The lightness of his words races along the surface of your bones, and when it reaches your chest, something clicks into place. That shade of doubt you had before, when you thought you didn’t quite fit right into him, now burns away in his warmth. When he holds your gaze with his eyes again, you know he can see how much you wanted to hear those words.

You think his face, looking up at you in some degree of reverence, was not something born, but carved.

The slope of his eyebrows, the sharp angle of his jaw, the shape of his shoulders… He is a beast in human form, only wanting for your touch. The most desperate of desire that can only be captured in the coldest of marble.

This man, as deadly as he is beautiful, reserved only for you to see up close and personal. A small seed of greed sprouts in you — you try to suppress how much you like being the only one who knows him like this.

But still, you go on, remembering how much smaller she was, nestled against his chest. “I’m just about as tall as you, you know.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at you, a confident smirk playing around his lips — smug, even. Some of that terribly charming humor lights his face up. His other hand slips under your shirt, and you shiver at the delicate touch around your lower back, holding you securely in place against him.

His eyes flick over your head, as if measuring your height in earnest. Your heart hammers against your ribcage at the proximity.

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says after his assessment, amused. “You have a ways to go in that regard.”

You fight the urge to glare at him, but he huffs a laugh at your expression anyway.

Still, you press on, “Whatever I was before, I’m not anymore. This body is completely different.”

“Hm…” Sylus’ gaze heads south, taking in the sight of you and again lingering where the band of your underwear peeks over his sweatpants and where your shirt is raised with his hand on your skin. And though your ears are turning red, you grab his chin and force him to look at you.

He meets you with a devilish smile. “So it is. I quite like it anyway.”

You push through your bashfulness, ignoring the slight warmth in your cheeks. “I’m not who you expected to find.” You don’t ask if he’d be fine with that.

“My dear hunter,” he says, eyes softening. “You asked me who I see when I look at you.”

That question you hurled him at the peak of your weakness — a question from your heart. The kind that when the answer is about to present itself, you find yourself holding your breath.

The hand on your lower back slowly slides up your side, sprouting butterflies in your stomach from the trail of heat he leaves on your bare skin. His fingernails delicately trace upwards, careful not to press on your bruises, until his hand is touching the center of your chest, mirroring yours a few moments prior. You’re struggling to hold his gaze — struggling to stop yourself from pulling him in even closer.

You remember the first time you and Caleb found an injured bird on the ground. He taught you how to hold it between your fingers like a makeshift harness so it couldn’t fly away. Through its thin ribcage, you were fascinated by how fast its tiny heart could thump — and that wild, desperate look in its eye. You never shook off the way it looked at you, wondering if your fingers will unwrap and leave it to its fate.

Its whole life defined in one moment, held in the palm of your hand. You think you understand that little bird now. The warmth in your tiny fingers was as much a sentence as it was a comfort. Fear and relief — the knowing that you are at the mercy of someone else’s love.

Sylus’ answer weighs like a cinder block against you when he says, “I have always ever seen you as you are.”

You don’t say anything for a moment. He tilts his head at you, allowing you to take your time.

With trepidation, so much so that you can’t hide the small tremor in your voice, you say quietly, “The thought of you terrifies me.”

You feel his fingers tense against your sternum. That was certainly not the answer he was expecting. You bear down on him, so he can feel the thudding of your heart rattling your very bones. So he can know just how much power he has over your heart, in its fragile entirety, and that you are entrusting it to him.

You say, “If I don’t live up to whatever vision you have of me, you’ll leave me behind.” Then, in an even smaller voice that barely comes out in a whisper, “I’m getting really tired of being left behind.”

Oh, there it is. Those words you haven’t been able to tell anyone all these months. Because if you did, people would just pity the wound you’ve bared to the world — one among many that Caleb’s absence has left on you. You don’t want to be a charity case, a burden on those who will never understand what loss is to you.

Those words, spoken aloud, tear the last remaining traces of armor from your face, and the exhaustion that wears you like a coat surfaces. Yet you keep his gaze that can see straight to your heart. You know he can feel the overwhelming ache of loneliness, and you wonder if he is no stranger to it either.

The breath that comes out of Sylus has the slightest tremble to it. His hands untangle themselves from your body to cradle your face ever so gently.

His touch sends dazzling shivers from your cheeks to the base of your skull and all the way down your spine. Without meaning to, you give a slight nuzzle into his palms, drunk on his touch. The exhaustion seeps into your brain, a fuzziness beginning to take over. The long days of work and grief pools over you, sinking your lids halfway.

It’s a relief to put into existence what you have hidden from for so long, and relief can be oh, so tiring.

A hint of mirth appears in his eyes at the sight of you like putty in his hands, slicing through that split-second look of heartache that crosses his face at your confession of vulnerability.

“I have an awful habit of giving in to you,” he says. “If you so desire it, I have no choice but to stay by your side.” He brings your face closer to his, your noses touching. “Be warned. It’s not so easy to get rid of me once you say it. I’ll be by your side until the end of time.”

Your heart flutters at his threat. “That’s not possible,” you say, and though you started out confident that these were just sweet nothings, there’s just something in the way he says them that has you doubting yourself.

“I’m not the type to half-ass my deals. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.” He chuckles. “Why don’t we find out starting tomorrow?”

He easily picks you up, one arm under your ass and the other, reassuringly, on the back of your neck. You don’t resist, only humming your agreement. He murmurs something about how you’ve lost a bit of weight, and though his voice is right next to your ear, he’s starting to sound far away.

Your face nestled in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, you breathe in his scent while you still have the chance, fingers digging into his sweater as if you never want to let him go. Apart from the surface-level tinge of shower product, there is something headier — something decidedly him , sweet and natural and addictive.

“I want to make you smile like in that dream,” you say as if in answer, sighing at the memory of that valley. “You have such a handsome smile.”

“It’s not as hard as you think.” He sets you down on the king-sized bed and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “We can talk more about how handsome I am later. For now, sleep to your heart’s content.”

When Sylus draws away to leave, your fingers catch him by the sleeve. “You said you’ll be by my side until the end of time.”

You like the way the corner of his lip quirks up. You’re already halfway to your goal. Just need the other side.

“So I did,” he acknowledges.

“Do you have to go tonight?”

He climbs into bed, pulling the covers over the both of you. “No. Tonight I’m all yours.”

Your eyes are already closed when his arms draw you into him and tangle your legs with his. But before you are completely submerged into sleep, you can’t help but ask one last question. “Are those flowers your favorite?”

It takes a beat before Sylus can answer. “Yes, they are.”

“Then I guess I like them after all.”

Sylus’ laugh is the last thing you hear, rumbling throughout his chest. It follows you into the dark, along with his unnaturally fast heartbeat.

That night, for the first time in months, your sleep is undisturbed. Dreamless and content, without wondering if you’ll wake up to a quiet kitchen or a quiet phone.

You don’t look forward to the morning light, but you think with Sylus, you could believe in his words.

After all, he is a businessman, and he has quite the reputation to uphold.

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus #qin che #fanfiction #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lads fanfiction #lads sylus #ao3 #finally done with this holy shit #love and deepspace fanfiction

48 notes · View notes