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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

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Dove (part seven)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope and the slowest, slow burn I swear)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven.

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A tense knot has formed right between Leon’s shoulder blades – can feel it pull when he tilts his head side to side, but it doesn’t seem to be loosening. Can’t even blame it on sleeping on the sofa cos he hasn’t laid down to sleep since the call with Hunnigan, stays sat up right. He’s athletic, he can jump up to his feet from horizontal but it’ll add a second or so to his reaction time and he’s not taking the risk.

He's on edge and he doesn’t like it. The ball of anxiety in his gut has saved his life more times than he can count, but it shouldn’t be necessary in this situation, should it? He’s set up in a safe house, literally off some beaten track in the middle of nowhere – location chosen and distributed by encrypted software so, technically, no-one in the DSO knows where he is either. It’s rigged up to the heavens with security measures - cameras, alarm systems, motion detector - explosion-proof windows, reinforced doors, all topped off with his favourite array of weapons in the duffel bag, currently resting by his still booted feet.

The objective of his mission hasn’t changed after the intel he’s received, that some foreign agency has had access to the CCTV feed for who knows how many hours before they were cut off. He should feel reassured that the quality of the footage was awful – it was only by how many times he’s encountered Lickers that he could even tell that’s what the creatures were when he’d be presented with the grainy images. He didn’t see the footage of you being rescued, but it would be a cruel kick in the gut to find that feed had been HD.

He lifts an arm – his left, keeping his right arm free, his accuracy is better by millimetres with his right – and rubs the knot, hoping to relieve the tension. It's not 100% confirmed they are looking or will be looking for you either, but why would anyone link up to the CCTV circuit if not to check on the outcome of their operation?

His immediate thought had been to up the frequency of his perimeter checks, one every two hours. He could do that at night, sure – military training taught him the correct and most efficient techniques to power nap – but in the day it would be harder without worrying you about what’s changed.

You wanted updates. Hell, you were entitled to updates. But he wants to give you good news, doesn’t wanna add to the weight on your shoulders with what could be nothing. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but in these sweet domestic moments the two of you have been sharing, he’s been pretending it’s something else – friends watching television, cooking a meal together – the sweet smiles the two of you exchange, but it’s all ripped apart the moment he has to do his checks. He can see the worry settle on your face then, a reminder of where you are with the flick of the safety off his gun and the twist of the lock as he goes outside to conduct surveillance.

Speaking of, his phone beeps for his next circuit on the building and he’s up on his feet in the blink of an eye. He pats his cargo pocket out of habit for the keys on the walk over to the garage door, but finds himself pausing outside your bedroom, his eyes focusing on the handle. You should still be pretty under with those sleeping pills – note to self, he’ll need to start weening you off them from now on, far too easy to get addicted. It wouldn’t hurt to just… check you were okay, would it?

No – that’s what you’re here, why he’s here – to protect you.

It would just be doing his job.

He presses down on the handle and slowly opens the door, breath caught in his throat. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, the lamp in the living room not quite reaching as far as your bed, but eventually he can make out your face – as peaceful as he’s ever seen it.

You’re on your side. The position doesn’t look like it would be comfortable with your arm still strapped up in the sling, but it’s testimony to how well the sleeping pills are working. Your other arm is up by your face, hand clenched in a tight fist around something. He steps forward without thinking, curious what it could be.

Your fingers are gripped tightly around his watch.

And there’s a pain in his chest that feels like they’re gripped around his heart as well.

That settles it - he’s not gonna tell you about the hacked CCTV feed. He will tell you that Hunnigan hasn’t searched your place yet, that they’ve restarted the surveillance department – she’d asked him to ask you if you knew anything about the servers since they were appeared to be working from square one – but that was it.

Leon steps back with unnecessary caution, leaving the bedroom as silently as he entered and shuts the door with a soft click. He takes a deep breath, pats down his pockets again and heads out to circle the perimeter.

And, just like after you kissed his cheek, he does it twice.

You wake up after another peaceful and dreamless sleep, though it still takes a moment to remember where you are as you stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. You wonder if tomorrow you’ll not experience that flicker of panic, just get up and accept that you’ll be picking today’s outfit out of a selection of clothes that you’re not sure if anyone’s worn before you.

You feel sore, as seems to be becoming the norm, but with unusually stiff fingers on your good hand. It seems you’ve clutched Leon’s watch all night. You’d fallen asleep quite quickly – all thanks to those sleeping pills – but you remember looking at it when you’d first got in the bed, the seconds ticking by lulling you to sleep. The fact that you’ve held it for so long reminds you of when you were a kid and snuggled up with a stuffed toy for comfort, except instead of something soft and cuddly, it’s what appears to be a top of line timepiece. There’s a lot of information contained on the face of the dial but there’s the time is the only one you really care about – 0906.

You get to your feet, raising your good arm to a grunt of protest as you try and run your fingers through your hair in lieu of a mirror. Huh, that pain’s new. Your hair is definitely due a wash now, but that’s an issue for later. You pull on a pair of sweatpants one-handed – you’ll be a pro soon, you’re sure of it – and put Leon’s watch in the pocket for safekeeping. It’d be difficult to try and navigate the door handle with it still gripped in your good hand and you’d hate to scratch it up.

You open the door cautiously – you hadn’t seen Leon asleep yet, but he must do at some point. Maybe you should offer to alternate the sofa and the bed? Though you have a feeling that he’s far too much of a gentleman to accept.

Or there’ll be something in the rules that prohibits that.

There’s no danger of waking him though - the agent in question is performing sit-ups in the middle of the living room floor, facing the other way. Muscular arms behind his head as he lets out little puffs of exertion at the exercise, alternating sides as he twists.

Wary that you don’t want to be caught staring, you shut the door with more force than necessary behind you and greet him with a smile when he looks over his shoulder.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Dove!” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Morning. Sleep okay?” He jumps up to his feet before taking a couple of steps over in your direction. There’s a grin on his face at the sight of you – makes you feel giddy.

“Yeah, thanks. How about you?”

“That’s good. Yeah, I slept fine.” He nods. It’s not a lie – he did sleep fine for the position he forced himself to maintain all night, despite the slight crick in his neck.

“Is that how you usually start your mornings?”

One of the arms you’d been admiring goes up to rub the back of his head again. “Kinda. I usually go for a run, but…”

“But you can’t leave me on my own.” You finish, smile dropping a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be - I’m not.” He drops his arm back down, casting an eye over a watch that’s not there. “Hey, you hungry? I can get breakfast started. Oatmeal again?”

“Sure.” You nod, fishing his watch out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Thanks again for this. It was nice to wake up and know the time this morning.”

“Don’t mention it. You can, er, you know, keep it. If you like.” He can’t get the image of you fast asleep last night, clutching it close to your face. He knows it was most likely the sleeping pills meaning you’d just passed out with it in your hand more than anything deeper, but, hey, a guy can pretend.

“I’ll be okay, I can get the time off the TV during the day.” You hold it out again with insistence. “But maybe… maybe I could have it for the night again?”

“Deal.” Leon hastily agrees, his fingers brushing yours as he takes back the watch before fastening it around his wrist. “Breakfast coming right up.”

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as he heads towards the kitchen – your heart warmed once more by the sight of the blob of toothpaste sat ready and waiting on your toothbrush.

“And, finally, oatmeal.” He places it down on the coffee table, alongside your coffee, a glass of water and your morning dose of painkillers.

“Thank you.” You lean forward to pick up the spoon, smiling back at the face that Leon’s drizzled in honey atop your breakfast again.

“Nah, pleasure’s all mine.” He calls over his shoulder as he picks up his own bowl from the kitchen. He hesitates for a second, before choosing to sit the other end of the sofa to you, rather than the opposite one.

“You know, I don’t get to do this very often. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” you swallow a spoonful of oatmeal. “Thought you said you’d been in lots of safe houses.”

“A fair amount. But, no, not that part. I mean, eating breakfast with someone.” “So…” You stir the spoon around the bowl, hoping it might prove a perfect segway into something you’d been wondering. “..there’s no-one at home for you?”

“Me?” He seems to scoff at the idea. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replies casually, before his blue eyes widen in alarm at how it might come across. “

“I mean, just by the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anyone at your apartment that morning and you hadn’t asked any of those sorta questions, you know, if they’d been told about what happened, where you are...”

He’s flustered, feels like he’s really putting his foot in his mouth this morning. He can take the lead in the interrogation of some of the world’s most despicable humans, for goodness’ sake, he should be able to talk to a pretty girl.

“Yeah, I figured.” You tease back and he swears he feels the weight lift off his shoulders.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment when curiosity gets the better of you. “So, you didn’t eat breakfast with the… others?”

“Nope.” His tone is firm as he recalls some of his previous charges. “Certainly didn’t make them it either. Trust me – they were nowhere near as nice or as deserving of my protection as you are, Dove.” The comment makes your head tingle.

“It’s all been people ‘realising’ how deep they’d sank but only grew a conscience to save their own skin. Hell, you might have even performed surveillance on some of them. A lot of criminals finally show backbone when they realise their time is running out.”

“Well, I’m glad to make a change – both for sharing breakfast and …safe house occupancy with.”

“A nice change,” he mumbles, but you still hear.

After breakfast, you go to shower and Leon sets himself to task with the dishes once again, says he did his last perimeter check before nine. Removing the sling proves trickier than yesterday – when you go to tug off the Velcro your opposite shoulder smarts with a similar pain of that morning, causing you to hiss through your teeth, something which the painkillers from breakfast don’t seem to have alleviated.

You step into the cubicle after undressing – the hot water immediately somewhat soothing on your bruised shoulders but you still struggle to get what you now deem as your good arm high enough to even entertain the possibility of washing your hair.

You try and avoid your reflection in the mirror when you dress, though you know you’ll have to confront your hair at some point. Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse – a greasy mop sat upon your head that makes your heart sink.

There must be a trick to it – other people must wash their hair one-handed all the time, but maybe they can lift an arm above their head. If you were home, you’d go to a salon, you think – an expensive you would deem necessary for your sanity.

A thought flashes across your mind – a ridiculous one. Leon is already doing so much for you, surely this would be completely over the line.

But you could… ask, couldn’t you? The worst he could do was say no, it would be awkward, and maybe there’s a hat in the duffel bag you’ve yet to discover.

You open the bathroom door, but don’t make to step over the threshold. Leon looks over from the sofa – dishes now drying in the rack besides the sink - and clocks your hesitation.

“Need a hand with the sling?”

Are you really going to ask him this?

You’ll break at some point - you know you will, so why not get it over with now? You’re a regimented two-day wash kinda girl and it’s day three. Not to be completely vain, but you’re covered with bruises and cuts, dressed in less than flattering clothes that aren’t yours and it would be nice to feel somewhat decent about something in your appearance.

Especially with the handsome company you’re keeping. Hell, Leon could be a model, a hair model too. There’d been shampoo and conditioner in the shower and you certainly hadn’t used it.

“Dove?” You’ve taken too long to reply again, getting stuck in your spiralling thoughts.

“I know this isn’t what you’re here for.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think further.

“Okay…” Leon's eyebrow is raised, a curious smile now fixed on his lips as he gets to his feet.

“And say no, obviously. Please. Just… I’d like to wash my hair.” You drop your eyes then – maybe it’ll be easier if you talk to your feet rather staring into his kind eyes?

"Right."

“And I’d… You know, I’d go to a salon and get it done there if we weren’t… here.”

“You’d like me to help you wash your hair?” There’s a tone of amusement or maybe disbelief in his tone.

Hearing him say it aloud makes you doubt the entire exercise, your heart begin to pound at your stupidity. “Sorry. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid to ask-“

“Hey, no, it makes sense.” He soothes, immediately wanting to ease your frustrations. “You can’t lift your arm above your head, right? My fault for not thinking about that.”

You look up then, seeing the sincerity on his face – like it truly was his fault that you couldn’t wash your own damn hair.

“I can do that, Dove. I don’t see why not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm. As you said, if you were anywhere else right now, you could go to a salon and whilst I can’t promise their quality, I seem to do all right with my own.” He shrugs. “You thinking over the sink?”

He doesn’t know why he asks – it’s hardly like you’re going to ask him to get in the shower with you.

Is it?

“I think so.” You look around the living area, though you’re well acquainted with what feels like every square inch of it now. “Though it might be a little awkward since we don’t have any chairs.”

He snaps his fingers. “Nah, there might be one in the garage, actually. Lemme check.”

He barely makes it into the garage when his cell vibrates in his pocket – one new message from Hunnigan.

Any server information for me?

Leon finds the folding chair nestled at the side of the washer and dryer and hesitates over the text back.

He’ll wash your hair – seeing how torn up you’d been about even asking him had made him feel awful - then he’ll give you the updates and ask about the servers.

He picks up the chair and tucks it under one arm, swiftly typing out a message on his cell and clicks send.

Not yet – Dove’s still asleep.

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Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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Part eight.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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lady-lauren · 2 years

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Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: authority/power-play, boss/employee relationship, age-gap, size difference/size kink, public heavy petting/fingering, rough sex, desk sex, praise kink, use of “good girl,” light choking/breath play, hand pressed over reader’s mouth, hair pulling, creampie (Enji is implied to be divorced, no cheating) trapped in an elevator for a while, so warnings for claustrophobia and elevators in general.

A/N: Special thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @titan-fodder for reading over this bad boy, and extra special thanks to my power going out right as I was excited to post this. God how I’ve missed Endeavor. One horny thought turned into over 6k. Enjoy ❤️

Endeavor’s name and presence is all over his hero agency. On every letterhead, blazing neon red letters on the front of the building, on company sweatshirts and stamps, email signatures, and even every pen and notepad. Yet the man himself is hardly ever seen.

Working directly for the titular hero of the agency as his senior support staff means that you see him more than most, and even still, his flaming body is a rarity to you.

So it’s a shock to see him in the elevator this morning, fire extinguished due to the spacial hazard. He’s dressed casually, white dress shirt and navy trousers. It’s too early for his hero duties to begin, the clock having not yet struck 9 a.m.

“Good morning,” you whisper with your eyes averted; his proximity always makes you anxious.

“Morning.”

He greets you with a curt nod as you step into the elevator from the parking garage floor.

Your first instinct is to press yourself to the farthest wall away from him. There’s an obstacle, however, one of his many sidekicks already twiddling his thumbs with worriment against the right wall. Endeavor stands in the back left corner, arms crossed, muscles bulging. You stick to the front of the car, leaning against the cool wall near the control panel.

The top-most floor is where you’re headed—same as your boss.

An itch crawls in your throat to make small talk, to fill the silent, awkward void as the elevator doors close and the cables hoist the metal box upwards. But you keep quiet, even if it is a long ride to floor thirty-six.

Lights on the floor numbers flicker, passing the lower levels, only to stop on the main lobby.

You exhale heavily as another sidekick enters the space, this guy bigger than most, making you step back a bit closer to the number one hero.

More people continue to filter in, worker bees about to go to their respective places in the corporate hive.

One after the other, feet shuffle, each new body making you edge closer and closer to the behemoth in the corner. Some have the guts to acknowledge Endeavor, others have wide eyes and try to cram themselves as far away from him as possible.

Endeavor is still hot—literally—without his flames, the heat of his body making the elevator car feel like a sweltering humid day. Like the sun, torrid waves pour from his core, making sweat form at the base of your neck.

The elevator doors finally close, only for them to re-open just one floor up.

Someone leaves, but three more enter. Everyone has to displace like water, make room for the other employees.

You take your final step back before your heeled shoe catches the toe of Endeavor’s boot.

“Sorry,” you mumble, placing your hand on the wall next to him to steady yourself.

The Flame Hero only huffs, casting you a glance before returning his gaze that rests over every head.

“Geez, busy morning, yeah?” Someone breaks the ice, someone nods in return.

“Elevators, huh? They really have their ups and downs.”

You can feel Endeavor groan in annoyance behind you, his broad form just a hair’s width away from you. Your legs are stiff in your heels, back straight as you try to be mindful not to touch or bump him. It’s not that you’re afraid of him, you just dare not be inappropriate with your boss—with the number one hero.

But your efforts to keep a suitable distance between you and your colossal employer fail when, by floor ten, you’re pushed back against him when another influx of people rush the elevator.

“I’m so sorry,” you look up at him as you apologize, craning your neck back against his chest.

“It’s alright.”

When the elevator jolts back to life, surging upward, your balance betrays you. Endeavor catches your hip before you lose yourself to gravity, a large hand keeping you upright.

The touch should be brief—that’s what you expect. Instead, his huge, hot fingers stay put, lingering. His thumb feels like it’s scorching your body at the seam of where your blouse is tucked into your skirt.

Your hair stands on end and you become acutely aware of just how much of you is touching him.

Your back is flush against his chest, his brawny thighs—spread wide—are on either side of your own, which are pressed together with nervousness. The top of your head bumps back against the collar of his shirt, the buttons down his robust chest are scraping against the thin fabric that covers your skin. His strong arm at your side keeps you from bumping into the elevator wall.

The two of you are rocking with the shifting and lifting of the elevator, shoulders bumping into the people next to you; the tall side-kick in front of you is nearly touching your nose with his back.

The elevator car creaks, the cables struggling.

“There’s a weight limit to these things, isn’t there?” A woman whispers near the front.

“Says here 1,500 pounds.” A little guy near the front reads the plaque above the floor buttons.

You can’t see beyond about three people around you, the height of the sidekicks blocking most everyone’s view. But if you had to guess, there’s about twelve people on the elevator, and at least four of the bigger heroes are well over two hundred pounds, Endeavor included.

“I think we’re over capacity, but we should be okay.” A different voice, one that makes people sigh with relief.

When the metal doors glide open on floor twenty, revealing two faces ready to enter the car, it’s Endeavor who speaks up.

“Elevator’s full. Catch the next one.”

No one would dare tell him no.

The rumble of his voice travels down your spine, makes your toes curl in your shoes that are starting to feel too-tight. Your ass is promptly placed at his crotch, the realization of which makes you flush.

Five floors whisk by, the next lit up button about to be reached, only for the elevator to shriek and rumble.

“Oh shit!” Someone yells as the world shifts, as the lights flash and the metal box shakes.

Endeavor instinctively wraps his arm around your middle, his free hand flying forward to stop the sidekick in front of you from crushing you between two muscular bodies.

A few of the ladies scream, a few of the men, too, a high pitched conglomeration of curse words and panic.

“Oh god we’re gonna fall!”

“From how high? What floor are we on?!”

“Fucking hell, we’re gonna die!”

“Endeavor save us!”

The electricity crackles before the lights go out, a faint flicker of hope before casting every face into darkness.

“It’s alright, everyone,” Endeavor sighs as he speaks, his hand rubbing against your side like he’s trying to soothe you, too, “we’re going to be fine. Just no one make any sudden movements.”

“Are we going to fall? Can you save us?!”

“Easy,” he tuts at the voice in the dark, “just stay calm. The elevator has shut down purposely in order to prevent it from crashing. If it was going to fall, it would have already. This is a built-in safety measure.”

“What do we do?” One of the sidekicks asks, eager to save the day.

“We wait.” Endeavor answers, finally pulling his hand off the back of his other sidekick, but not removing himself from you.

“Wait for what?!”

You sigh, resolving to let your weight fall back against your boss, tired of trying to keep yourself from being improper in this situation.

“Be quiet.”

A blue light comes to life near your side after Endeavor fishes his phone from his pocket. He dials a number quickly, pressing the speaker function since he can’t pull his phone to his ear due to the bodies cramped next to him.

“Hello, this is Ellie Vader, how can I help you?” A female voice chirps from the speakers.

“Ellie, it’s Endeavor. The elevator has shut down at my office, me and…” he pauses, ready to take a head count but unable to see in the dark, “quite a few people are stuck.”

“The Elevator Hero is at your service! Make sure no one moves suddenly—no jumping, no banging on the walls—I can be there in about fifteen minutes!”

“Thanks.”

And then the light is gone and people are exhaling in relief.

“There’s an elevator hero?” You mumble up to Endeavor, smiling even if he can’t see it.

“You’d be surprised how many elevators get stuck a day in this city. We’ll be fine.”

The blackout urges people to be quiet. It’s pitch dark, the absence of light making some go still, while others try to feel their surroundings, causing a ripple of “ouch,” “back off,” “don’t touch me,” “that’s my fucking toe.”

Soon, though, a few people are able to maneuver their phones into their hands, and dull screens make the packed space feel less intimidating. Two co-workers even start up a hushed conversation at the front, talking about the department meeting they dread today. Another pair strikes up a forced chat about weekend plans. They’re human, after all, awkward and trying to fill the silence.

Feet aching from heels you did not plan to be planted on metal floor for so long, you shift your weight between your knees, inadvertently rubbing yourself against your boss’s crotch.

“You alright?” Endeavor turns his face down to whisper to you, lips brushing against your ear.

“Mhm, yeah, my feet just hurt a bit.”

“I’m sure they do, given those ridiculous heels you wear every day.”

There’s a playfulness to his tone that you’ve heard from time-to-time. Though now, in such close proximity, it makes you warm, makes your palms sweat.

You murmur without thinking, “Yeah, but they make my legs look good.”

Regretting the words immediately, you press your lips together, ready to bang your head into the guy’s back in front of you.

Endeavor doesn’t respond right away, only chuckles, the arm around your middle retreating. He slides his big hand across your belly, slowly, like he wants you to feel it. Then his fingers are back to your hip, but moving down, down, down until his absurdly large fingertips are trailing the hem of your skirt.

“Indeed they do.” Endeavor speaks more softly than you’ve ever heard him before, just a breath of words for you to hear.

But anyone could hear him if they were paying attention. If anyone were to crane their neck and look back, they’d see the outline of number one hero creeping his fingers up his assistant’s skirt in the dark.

Hot can no longer describe how you feel pressed against him. The temperature goes beyond that—boiling, like he’s on fire and engulfing you even though his quirk is being suppressed. You’re flying far too close to the sun, being sucked into his orbit.

Your fingers clasp in front of you for sanity, knuckles squeezing tightly as you hold your breath.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about fucking Endeavor.

It’s hard not to think about sex when you look at him. He ticks every primitive mating box: incredibly tall, handsome, the strongest of any pack he’s in. Everywhere he goes, he brings an air of authority with him. Making people cower is almost part of his charm.

Endeavor clears his throat and it makes you jump, the deep sound vibrating against your back. Two fingers come to a halt on the back of your thigh, just a few inches higher than your hem, just a few inches away from touching your backside.

“Are you alright with the work you’ve been given today?” He asks quietly, pointedly to you.

It’s code. You pick up on it right away, as it’s Monday and you’re lucky enough to not have any assignments yet. He’s asking if you’re alright with him touching you.

“Yes, sir—” you lick your lips as you think about what to say in response, “I think it’s going to be a very pleasurable day.”

Someone in front of you snorts, muttering a “yeah, after we get off this goddamn elevator, maybe.”

But the fingers that continue their voyage up your thigh tell you that this elevator calamity is about to be the highlight of your morning.

Endeavor shifts you both, pressing his shoulders back farther against the back wall, giving himself more space to get his huge hand farther up your skirt.

His other hand is quick to act as well. He grasps your ribcage, making you suck in a breath, fingers splayed wide so he can brush the underside of your breast without detection. Your bra stands in the way, an unfortunate barrier, but still your tit jiggles in the cup just enough to send heat straight to your cunt.

The elevator creaks and groans, like a ship baying in the ocean. A few shocked gasps echo around the space, which is the perfect cover for the sound you can’t help but make as your boss’s fingers settle between your legs.

Endeavor spreads the fat of your pressed-too-tightly thighs easily, two thick fingers rubbing against your panties.

A strained sound comes from his throat, like he wants to say something but is holding himself back. His middle finger strokes further between your thighs, pushing against your clit. You see stars for a moment in the dark, pleasure searing down into the pits of your stomach.

You’re both damp. Him from the heat of the elevator, mostly caused by him, anyways, his white shirt clinging to his plush chest. You’re wet between your legs, his touch immediately making your slick pool against cotton.

His fingers are languid but strong, repeating the action of sliding between your covered folds and toying with your clit until your thighs are clenching around his wrist, knees knocking together and shaking.

“Good,” is all he breathes down the back of your neck, concise praise that makes you bite the inside of your cheek to avoid whimpering.

Your head falls back to his chest, breasts heaving as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself. From the light of a phone screen in the corner, you can barely make out Endeavor’s features. Sharp jaw turned down toward you, thick neck with a pulse thumping as hard as your own. You can barely make out the jagged lines of his facial scar, a firm reminder of whose hands you’re in.

Desperately you want to tilt your head back just a bit more, offer your lips for him to kiss. But you can still hear people all around you, even if you can’t really see them. Coughs and shuffling, mutterings and someone on the phone up front toward the doors swearing that he’s not late, just stuck in an elevator with Endeavor.

It’s hard to grasp the concept that Endeavor is touching you, that he wants to touch you, and made the move himself to shove his fingers against your pussy. You’re just a pretty girl with a simple quirk and a talent for organizing his schedule.

Endeavor manages to pull his burly arm up a bit more on your side, weighty palm curving over your breast until his thumb and index fingers rest at the base of your throat. A contingency plan, you realize, for him to take quick action should you get too noisy.

Long fingers are deft, swift and pushy, pulling your panties to the side so he can really touch you, smear feverish fingertips through your wetness. You bump your head back against his chest in near defeat, eyes screwing shut as you focus on not verbally responding to the gratification of skin upon skin.

He’s good at what he’s doing, too good, playing you like the devil plays his fiddle as his index finger slips into your tight hole and his middle rolls against your clit.

You nearly lose your footing, having to plant one foot back between his stance in order to stay standing. You’re more open for him now, his thumb pushing at the fat of your ass and spreading you. Your cunt sucks in his finger willingly, wet and squishing, making you flush with embarrassment.

But no one seems to notice, there’s no sound of shock, no shadowy figures turning in the dark.

In a fucked up way, it feels like just you and him, a moth sucked into a dangerous flame.

“More?” Barely a whisper into the top of your head, breath hot and lost in your hair.

“Yes,” you sob quickly.

He moves the hand at your neck higher, squeezing just enough to feel blood pumping in your carotid arteries, to keep you quiet.

More than anything, you want to feel full, and he heeds your silent prayer. Endeavor stuffs two fingers into you, middle finger abandoning your clit in favor of curling against your walls. He pumps into you roughly, purposely, each thrust making your stomach tighten. He wants to drive you off the orgasmic cliff, force you to cum in his hand.

And you’re getting close, far more quickly than you’re proud of. His fingers are skilled, cruel, finding that perfect spot inside you that makes you want to scream. But you can’t. You swallow it down, grit your jaw until you hurt. His thumb and ring fingers are mean against your ass cheeks, packed against soft flesh as he coaxes more slick sounds from between your legs.

Endeavor squeezes your throat, once, twice, like he’s urging you, commanding you. Do it, do it.

Delectable jolts race across your nerves, blending together at the apex of your thighs, deep in your belly. His fingers press in deeper, harder, velvety walls rich around him. You can feel every knuckle, feel how he spreads you, vicious and eager, like he doesn’t care that you’re practically dripping into the floor.

Your lashes are fluttering as you fully put your weight back against his chest, content to just feel him. His breaths are steady, calming, like he isn’t pounding his fingers into your cunt. His fingers are thick, insanely so, which only makes you hold in a whisper at how fat his cock must be.

Each press of his fingers makes you jump, makes your stomach tighten like some molten core is forming with every thrust. It all feels too good, like a hot, humid heaven where you’re being stuffed and satiated.

Your hips buck back against him, heels scraping the floor, his hard cock pressing right against the groove of your ass.

Feeling him behind you, Endeavor, number one hero, massive body, forearms straining against you, his cock aching for you, that’s what pushes you over the edge.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. One of your hands flies to the hero’s wrist around your neck for stability.

You absolutely shatter, thighs quivering, cunt cinching, orgasm flooding all your senses like you’ve been thrown into the deep end. Blood rushes to your ears, fills your cheeks, rushes south as you gush. You’re blissfully trapped, waves hitting you from every angle, knocking the breath out of you as you cream all over your boss’s hand.

“Fuck,” you have to say something, have to curse into the silence before you scream and explode.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t remove his fingers right away. He lingers, pressing his cock against your ass, moving his hand down to tug at your waist and get you to rock back against him. He delights in the friction of you against his slacks, practically purring behind you.

“Hey, what’s that sound?” Someone comments. Immediately you blanch, worried you’ve been caught.

But you hear it too, the cables tugging again, the machine of the elevator humming back to life.

“Oh my god we’re saved!”

“I thought I was going to die!”

It’s a chorus of happiness, one that easily drowns out the slippery sounds of Endeavor finally leaving the sanctuary of your cunt. You squeak at the loss of contact, feeling so very empty as he pushes your skirt down, wipes the mess of his fingers on his pants.

Still, the gigantic man doesn’t quite let you go. He keeps his hands on your hips, keeping you planted right in front of him. To hide the tent in his pants, you assume.

“Hi there!”

The elevator doors finally open on floor twenty-seven to Ellie Vader, smiling with a giant wrench thrown over her shoulder.

“Oh thank god!” One of the elevator passengers flings himself at her, wrapping her in a hug as he dramatically brings himself to tears.

“Goodness, it’s hot in there! Everyone out, elevator is fixed, but we can’t have this many people traveling anymore!”

Eager bodies shuffle out, shoulders bumping, quickly cursing before apologizing.

But Endeavor keeps his hands on you, firm, steady, telling you that you are not to follow suit.

“Thank you, Ellie,” Endeavor’s voice is a bit hoarse, but he gives her a forced smile from the back of the car.

“Any time, pal! It was probably you who weighed down the damn thing, anyways. Now off you go!”

The beaming hero smacks the up button on the outer wall, closing the doors and sending you back on the track to the top floor.

You don’t have time to process fully being alone with Endeavor.

Easily, far too easily, he pushes you against the elevator wall, hands on either side of your head as he cages you in.

Blue eyes spark with flames, low rumbling ones, flicking just hot enough to kiss your skin.

“Cancel everything on my schedule today.”

“B-but sir, you have—”

“I. Don’t. Care. Clear it, or better yet, message one of the other assistants to do so. You’ll be occupied the rest of the day.”

He takes your jaw into his hand as you nod in affirmation. You can still smell yourself on his fingers. Your cheeks squish underneath the might of his grip, and he watches you curiously, quietly, like a lion playing with a fresh catch.

The elevator chimes before he can kiss you.

“Follow me to my office.”

He turns on his heels, marching in a beeline out of the lift and straight to the large double doors of his office. You follow a few beats later, hands quick to find your phone and send out an emergency email to the rest of the support staff to wipe the boss’s calendar clean.

You’re a bit wobbly as you exit the elevator, panties still pushed to the side, but swiftly find your footing. You take long, brisk strides to the looming promise of Endeavor’s office.

Once you enter, he commands you to lock the door, which is not unusual given how he hates to be disturbed while he’s working.

“On the desk,” he has yet to sit down, too busy peeling off his dampened shirt and running a hand through red hair.

His office has always been intimidating. Far too large and nearly empty save his desk and a few couches, the floor to ceiling windows making it feel even more expansive as it overlooks the Musutafu skyline. You feel small against the oak wood of his desk, like a doll placed for decoration as you cross your legs nervously, like he hadn’t just had his hand between your thighs, in your cunt.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” His words make you prickle with delight as his belt clinks, the leather being slid from his pants without a second thought.

“Thank you.” It’s all you know to say.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you.” He cages you in again, big palms flat against his desk as he leans down to brush his nose against your throat. “Thought about fucking you since I hired you.”

You’re overwhelmed by him, by his size, by his cologne, his proximity. He’s all encompassing so up close and personal. Your eyes are glued to his musculature, transfixed by the way his shoulders roll, how plush his pectorals are. He could easily crush you with his might, yet his hands are quick and soft as they push and pull at the buttons of your blouse.

“Kiss me.” You demand of him, your lips wet and begging for friction.

He indulges you without a second thought, one hand unclasping your bra as the other holds your chin. His mouth is heavy, hot, rough against yours like he’s taking what he wants. He swallows your moans, slides his tongue past your teeth so he can taste you. Warm, languid movements, consuming and intoxicating. He tastes familiar, like how he smells each day, but exotic, like he’s forbidden. And he should be. Yet your legs are spreading below him and your naked tits pressing against his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans and puts his hand on your back, smushing you close to him, slotting your body against his. He’s too tall for his cock to press against your pussy, yet you can feel it against your stomach, twitching against the seam in his pants. You wiggle yourself against one of his powerful thighs, desperate to feel some kind of contact between your legs.

Endeavor breaks your kiss by tugging at your hair, fingers weaving between the strands so he can pull your neck back and keep you still.

Blue eyes scan your spit stained lips before wandering down, stopping to watch your breasts heave from the breath you lost to your kiss.

“Always knew you’d have perfect tits.” He punctuates his statement by plucking at one of your nipples, rolling the bud between hefty fingers until it pebbles to his touch.

You can’t help but whine as he repeats the action, pinching and pulling just to watch your body’s reaction. He yanks the hand in your hair back, making your spine arch and tits press out further. He plays with your other nipple, balancing the sensations, making you grind down against him as you search for more pleasure.

Dipping his head, he places a long, flat lick across your nipple, leaving a cold trail in his wake.

“Enji!” You lean into the pull he has on your hair.

He sucks your nipple into his mouth, a grunt vibrating across your breast as he circles your sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Like my name in your mouth,” he says between breasts, lathering the other with plenty of attention as well. You shiver at his ministrations, the air conditioning making you bristle in the cold when his heat shifts across your body.

“Enji,” you repeat with purpose, “fuck, you’re spoiling me.”

And you mean it, it’ll be hard to walk into his office and not think of him nursing your tits.

“Just wait, sweetheart. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You moan, feeling like he already has.

Enji releases your hair, the heel of his hand pushing against your shoulder to get you to lay flat against the papers on his desk. Ink sticks to your sweaty skin.

“Let me see the mess you made.”

Moving your skirt down your hips before you can even process, he opens your legs wide, gigantic hands pushing on the backs of your thighs so your slick, sloppy cunt and soiled panties sticking to your folds are on display.

“Mess you made,” you correct with a breathy giggle, staring up at the ceiling of his office.

“Didn’t hear you complaining in the elevator, sweetheart.” He runs a finger down your folds, your body convulsing at the touch. “In fact, I didn't hear you make much of a peep. Such a good girl, keeping quiet for me.”

“If your cock is anything like your fingers, I don’t know if I can be quiet.”

Enji plays with your messy cunt, curling two fingers against you before peeling the wet cotton away so he can look at you.

“Don’t want you to be quiet,” you both groan as his finger prods your hole, “though I’ll make you hush if you get too loud.”

You flush with a fresh heat as he pulls your panties down your legs, feeling strings of slick pop from where you were sticking to the threads.

“Look at that pretty pussy. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. You were sucking my fingers so tight earlier.”

You never expected him to be so vocal and it makes you gasp, fingers trying to grip into the clutter of paperwork on his desk.

He’s aware of his strength as he grasps your hip, careful not to hurt you even as his blood simmers and his cock springs from his pants.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, eyes gone glassy as you close them against the fluorescent lights, “please, please.”

He grunts in affirmation, sliding his thick cock over your slippery folds, coating himself. There’s a vein that runs on the underside of him, hot and pounding, moving just right against your clit to make your thighs shake in his hands.

The urge to look at him, to actually see the monstrous cock you’ve been dreaming of, is strong, but his grip is stronger. You can’t move below him, his shoulders and arms working to press and secure you against his desk. All you can do is breathe and wait, feel his fat cock slip and grind against you.

“Deep breath,” he tells you, pressing his leaking tip against your cunt, “might hurt.”

Luckily, the mess Enji made of you makes it easier for him to pop past that first ring of muscle, cockhead hot and mean as his hips cant. He’s not gentle. Quick thrusts that spread you apart fast, make you open and create room for him inside of you.

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the sounds he’s making. Primal, deep grunts from inside his chest as he stares down at where you’re taking him in, dragging along his length. He bullies his way inside of you, getting off on your whines and squeals as you stretch for him.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishes as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls.

“Shit, fuck,” you exclaim as he begins to bottom out, russet curls on his pubic bone meeting your clit. All you can think about is him; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. The smell of sex starts early, sweaty skin melting together as he fully starts to take you.

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles, wicked instincts, at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Atta girl,” he mumbles, moving a bit quicker, snapping his strong hips against you, heavy balls against your ass, “just fucking take it.”

You’re practically folded in half and pinned below him, hips arched off the desk so he can find more leverage to barrel into you. The rhythm makes you swim, lost to the pounding of his cock against your insides. Over and over, in and out, spread wide and squeezing all the same as he has his way with you.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

“Feel so good, so full,” you know the praise works both ways, makes him flush and swell with pride.

“Yeah? You like being my little cocksleeve?”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges in deep. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving cream along his shaft. But quickly he gets rougher, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

“C’mere,” but you don’t have to move, just let him pull on you like you weigh nothing.

Enji jerks you upright, cock still seated into your core. Smoothly he stands with you, hands gripping into your ass cheeks as you fling yourself against his chest, trying to get your arms around his massive shoulders.

“I’ve got you.”

He bounces you once, twice, lets you whine into his neck and get used to the new angle. Gravity and his strength make you take all of him in, his cockhead bullying against your womb in the most pleasant way that makes your vision go blurry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” it’s all you can do to stay sane as he becomes brutal, grunting and groaning as he thrusts up into you. Your nails sling to his dewy skin, losing purchase with every rebound. Pink lines etch into him, blending into freckles on his shoulders.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist, any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless due to his size. You go pliant in his arms, mouth sucking into his neck to smother your moans. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time you sink back down. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. And he feels you, smells you, aches for you.

“Never gonna get tired of this,” he roars with a bit of laughter, head rolling back as he lets pleasure take over.

“You’re fucking amazing.” And you mean it, awe overwhelming you as you fall against his chest, dwarfed by his brawn. Enji continues to lift you up and down, up and down, on his cock like you’re weightless. And you are to his strength, his muscles are bulging and corded expertly around his body. He’s trained himself to perfection; trained to be the best at everything.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life.

He nudges your forehead with his nose, coaxing you to look at him so he can bounce you up a bit higher and capture your mouth with his.

“Can I,” he groans into your lips, “can I cum in you?”

His words make your belly coil, a fissure of revelry racing up your spine.

“Please, yes, fuck yes, cum in me.”

You don’t have it in you to explain your birth control, nor does he seem to care for you to. Your confirmation just spurs him to move faster, balls slapping against your ass so roughly you know you’ll be sore just from skin against skin.

“You first.”

Without breaking rhythm, he takes a step back and sits down in his office chair. You coo as you sit in his lap, his hands still planted on your thighs so he can move you however he pleases. He’s strong enough to bounce you with his hips, his thighs, one hand steadying you as the other dips between your bodies.

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, g-gonna cum, Enji,” you take a deep breath, throwing your head back as you buck and bound in his lap, “gonna scream, shit.”

Enji takes matters into his own hands, literally, continuing to strum your sensitive clit as his other hand clasps onto your mouth. It’s a suffocating feeling, a possessive one, like he’s smothering all your cries so no one else can hear but him.

With the safety of his hand over your lips, thumb arched against your cheekbone, pressing, prodding, you let yourself go.

You cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Enji’s hips don’t falter, just continue to slam up into you as he chases his own high. You suck around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. You’ve never cum around such a fat cock and it just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your pleasure out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, spit against his palm and nails raking down his chest.

“God you’re fucking pretty when you cum,” and his praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes wring until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids.

And just when you think you’re done, that you’ll find a reprieve to the shattering, over-sensitive pleasure, he cums inside of you.

He stops to ride out his orgasm, cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. Stuffed so tightly with his cock, his cum gushes from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he purrs, satiated to find release in your cunt.

You can’t help but mumble nonsense against his hands, blissed-out praise of how good he feels, how you love feeling his cum. After a few heartbeats, his hand slips from your face, instead reaching back to run through his hair, catching the sweat beating down his forehead.

“Oh my god,” reality sets in as you lean forward, burying your face into his neck, drunk off the afterglow of sex, but aware enough that the smell of him reminds you that you just fucked your boss on a Monday morning.

“You alright?”

He pets your hair, palm burning down your back as you both come back down from whatever orgasmic plane you were shot into.

“Yeah, just,” you groan as you shift in his lap, his cock still hard and buried so deep in your cunt that you know you’ll feel his ghost for days, “just coming to terms with this.”

Enji laughs, deep and proud, and the rumbles of his chest make you jump.

“Thought I broke you for a moment there. Sorry, sometimes I forget myself. My strength, really.”

Clearly, your heads are not in the same place. He’s worried about your body while you’re worried about repercussions.

“No, you were—this was great, seriously, fucking you is…wild.” You shift in his lap, audibly moaning as you sit up straight, still stuffed full of him. “But you’re not going to fire me, are you?”

He laughs again, looking down at you in his lap with glee in his icy eyes. Running his hands down your shoulders, he hums, smiling.

“Fire you? No, no. Might promote you, though. Make sure you do more important things than just schedule my media appearances.”

He’s being playful, just as love-drunk as you are from sex, and his smile makes you warm, like he’s washing away all your fears.

You kiss him because you feel like you can, like you have the authority to just lean up and take what you want from him. He groans into your mouth, lips matching the movements of yours. It’s nice to kiss him, to take your time and feel him against you; breasts to chest, arms weaving around one another, necks turning and thighs clenching.

“Yeah,” he presses one last kiss to your lips before stretching his arms over his head, “I’m going to keep you, that’s for sure.”

#endeavor smut #enji todoroki smut #endeavor x reader #Enji Todoroki x reader #enji x reader #enji smut #enji todoroki #endeavor #my hero academia fanfic #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #endeavor fanfic #enji todoroki fanfic #bnha enji #bnha endeavor #bnha endeavor fanfic #bnha enji todoroki fanfic #bnha

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konekoling · 1 year

Text

Hi hello since the states are gonna get blasted with cold soon I figured I'd shave some Helpful Cold Survival Advice I've absorbed as someone who lives in an area that hits -50C/-58F temperatures periodically

-Starting with a somewhat obvious one, but HOLY SHIT DO NOT BRING BARBECUES, GENERATORS, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF OUTDOOR HEAT SOURCE INSIDE FOR WARMTH. CO poisoning WILL kill you if you don't accidentally start a fire in the process.

-If you wanna stay in your car and turn the heat up for warmth DO NOT do it in the garage. Again. CO poisoning.

-You can turn up your stove/ oven and crack the oven door open in an emergency if you have zero other heat sources available, but only if its electric (Gas stoves will generate carbon mono...yeah you get it already), and even then its going to be much less energy efficient than a normal space heater, and you're gonna want to stay nearby while it's on to make sure you don't start a fire.

-Don't plug a space heater into a power bar or extention cord unless you're 100% sure it has a high quality cord. They need an absurd amount of power to run, and most extention cords in particular aren't insulated enough to handle those levels of power without becoming a fire hazard. And for the love of God, don't run multiple heaters on one power bar.

-Candles don't actually do much to generate heat unless you're ina very small area, but they ARE an excellent light source should power go out

- tragically, the best way to keep warm in the absence of home heating is through boring ol layering, especially on your feet and head. Avoid jeans, as they're somehow terrible at heat retention despite how thick they are, and throw on a pair of long underwear/leggings if you have some. Also feel free to pile as many blankets as you own on top of yourself, you deserve it.

-Youre gonna want to stay well fed, too. Keeping your body temperature up in the cold is pretty calorically demanding, AND the digestive process tends to heat your body up as well. Its a win/win.

-Also unfortunate: another excellent way to stay warm is through your enemy and mine, physical activity. Every half hour or so, pace around your living space to get the ol blood pumping a bit.

-If you get wet outside while it's substantially cold out, get inside as soon as possible bc that WILL suck the heat from your body. This goes for sweat too, so layer responsibly if you're out shoveling

-Electric blankets are a scam, don't buy them.

-heating pads and heated mattress covers are less of a scam, but don't fall asleep with them on bc once again, fire hazard.

-If you have any faucets in your house that don't see a lot of use/you live somewhere that doesn't usually see cold weather, keep all your faucets on just a bit so your pipes don't freeze and/or explode. This WILL cost thousands of dollars to fix.

-Likewise, if you're traveling for the holidays see if you can have someone come by to turn the faucets on every day or two so you don't come home to find your house sunk into the ground

-ALSO if you're traveling and think "hm, I think I'll turn off the heat while I'm out to save some money that is the devil speaking, do NOT listen. (Heating helps keep the pipes warm and unfrozen)

-Fill your bathtub up with water and/or stock up on bottled water if you're gonna be getting unusually cold temperatures in case your pipes DO freeze, since you're probably not gonna want to hit up the store should this occur

-Stay off the roads if you can help it. Turbocold weather makes cars periodically fail to start, and also the second snow touches the ground people somehow forget how to drive.

-IMO If it's below -38C before windchill, you have a substantial commute, and you have any PTO/can afford to miss a shift at work, don't bother going in. Just lie and say your car wouldn't start.

-If you absolutely need to go to work/go out for whatever reason, take public transit if possible. If thats not possible, keep some blankets, food, candles, and a lighter in your car in case the battery dies on the road so you can stay toasty and Alive until help arrives.

Probably gonna add more as I remember it, but thems the basics! Stay warm!

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kaciidubs · 8 months

Text

Lucky Charm

❣ For my sweet love @sweetracha - thank you for indulging me in this AU, I hope you like it! ❣

❣ Summary: Racer! AU - Its the first race of the season, and what's a better way to start it off without a little visit from Jisung's lucky charm? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 1.1k ❣ Warnings: Racecar Driver! Jisung, Racer Crew! OT8, Jisung's a bit cocky but in a lovable way, established relationship, hinted smut, fluff, humor, kissing, Seungmin is a menace to Changbin, Jeongin is a menace to Minho, Jisung is a menace to Reader ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Han is referred to as Jisung, Han, and Mr. Flirt, sort of slice of life style but I love it ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Seungmin, stop hiding my tools!”

“I’ll stop hiding them when you stop calling me a dog!”

You watched as Changbin wrangled the younger into a chokehold - putting no power behind it, of course - and continued spewing on about how he’ll continue being a dog if he keeps hiding his stuff.

“They’re still at it?”

Breaking you from the ever so entertaining view, you turned your head to see Chris walking over to you, black headset donned around his neck in preparation for the race.

“Mhm - you know, for the pit leader and star of the crew, they really can’t get past this fake sibling rivalry.”

“It keeps them entertained and out of my hair, as long as they don’t kill each other then so be it.”

Nodding in agreement, you snuck a peek at the pair once again; Seungmin now, miraculously, out of the hold and taunting Changbin over something entirely new.

It was race day, the first race of the season and the starting line for the journey to the silver cup, so it was understandable why they seemed to have more energy than before - honestly, you were surprised they weren’t chasing each other around by this point.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” You mused, noting the lack of a few familiar faces amongst the pit crew that filled the assigned stadium garage.

Chris leaned against the table you were sitting on, crossing his arms over his t-shirt clad chest, “Well, Minho’s doing a pre recorded interview - he brought Jeongin along to ‘show him how it's done’, Hyunjin is out getting some pictures of the stadium, Felix is getting the final lineup of the race, and I’m sure you know where Jisung is.”

Ah, right - the man of the hour and the reason why you’re all gathered today - Han Jisung, the person taking up this season’s race in the SKZ name. This was far from his first race, or course, but it still held importance; this was his shot at a third consecutive win following his overly successful season last year, taking over for Minho as he took on the responsibility of training Jeongin with Chris, and you were here to hopefully witness his first win of the circuit.

Picking aimlessly at the fabric of your skirt, you regarded the eldest with a soft look, “You think he’s nervous?”

“Yeah.” He unfolded his arms, resting his hands on the edge of the table, “But you know how he is, nerves are only fuel to him - keeps telling me how he knows what he’s doing and that he’s bringing back another trophy for the garage.”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head in amusement - cocky as ever.

The sound of the door squeaking open drew your attention, easily recognizing the faces coming through the door.

“You can ignore me all you want - that interviewer was so into you!” Jeongin beamed, following closely behind a nonplussed Minho.

“Chan, get this child away from me, now.”

“Seriously! How could you not see it?! She was a hundred perfect fucking you with her eyes-”

“Chan!”

“Shit- okay! Innie, you keep testing him and he might actually kill you this time.” Chris launched himself from his position on the table, leaving you to watch as he dragged the youngest driver away from the veteran - but not without attracting the attention of the two lead pit crew members eager for the tea.

In the midst of the action, the door opened once again - Jisung walked through wearing his racing jumpsuit decorated in various sponsorship patches he’d earned throughout the years. He went to jump into the ruckus until he spotted you on the table, laughing at whatever threat Minho famously came up with this time, his heart fluttering and feet leading him straight to your side.

“You must really love me if you’re willing to deal with these guys,” he hummed nonchalantly, not missing the way you jumped at his sudden presence, head whipping toward him in surprise.

Rolling your eyes, a soft smile quickly replaced your shock, “You must really love me if you’re willing to let me deal with these guys.” You watched as he saddled himself in front of you, caging you in against the table with a sideways smirk.

“Of course I love you,” pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, a bright smile blossomed on his lips, “you should’ve told me you were here already, I would’ve gotten ready faster!”

“Today’s an important day, you really think I’m gonna rush you just to see me?” Your fingers danced their way up the fabric of his jumpsuit, tracing along the various seams and straps before finding home on his shoulders.

“I’m always in a rush to see you, why do you think I always finish in first?”

You scoffed out a laugh, eyes glittering with mirth, “Okay, Mr. Flirt, let’s get our heads in the game here.”

“Han! We’ve gotta start getting ready soon!”

A wave of anxious excitement washed over you at Chris’ time call, and you could see the spark of determination flash behind Jisung’s eyes - this was it.

“One last kiss from my lucky charm?” Jisung hummed softly, his hands sliding to cradle the outside of your thighs, fingers fiddling with your skirt.

Nodding curtly, you took his face in your hands, gently turning his head to the right, “Be smart-” you murmured before kissing his cheek and turning his head to the left, “be safe-” planting another kiss, you turned him one final time to face you, “be fast-” pecking his lips, you leveled him with a soft stare, “and come back to me.”

“Always.” He promised, as always, finishing the ritual with a solid kiss to your lips in return, pulling back with a cocky grin, “I’ll make sure to come back for my second checkered flag, too.”

Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before your gaze dropped to where he was currently squeezing your thighs and- of course, in addition to wearing a custom shirt with his racing number and name, you’d opted for a black and white checker patterned skirt to tie the look together.

A new rush of heat ran through you as you mushed his face with your hands, embarrassed giggles escaping you all the while, “Han Jisung get away from me!”

You could feel him kiss the palm of your hand with a triumphant laugh, taking your wrist to move your hand, “You know you love me!”

“Yeah, I love you, now go!”

Successfully shooing him away, you watched as he went to huddle with the rest of his team - now noticing the arrival of Felix amongst the group, and Hyunjin with his camera in hand, snapping pictures of the first huddle of the season.

You knew he’d give it his all, he always did, but a little intentionally unintentional enticement never hurt anyone - you were his lucky charm after all, and if that helped him have another reason to bring back the gold then who were you to stop it?

#skz fic #stray kids fic #Han Jisung x reader #Jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #Racer! AU #Racer! AU SKZ #Racer! Jisung #Racer! Han

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delopsia · 9 months

Text

Polaroid | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, unprotected sex, fighting for dominance/power struggle, slight jealous/possessive Bob, inappropriate usage of a motorcycle and a Polaroid camera. Brief Summary: Bob doesn't like how touchy Mav's been with you. Solution? Fucking you against Mav's bike and using his camera to memorialize the moment. But you've got an idea of your own.

Lightning flickers just outside, a brief flash of white light piercing through the tiny, square garage door windows. Such a swift appearance, and yet, you can already tell that it's brighter than the single light bulb posted in the center of the garage. Dull golden hues paint the room in even dimmer shades of bronze. So poorly lit that you can hardly see the silvery 'Kawasaki' logo of Mav's motorcycle, mere inches away from your nose.

Thunder booms. That bleak little bulb fades out for the briefest moment as the house rattles. Whistling wind howls around the corners, shaking the garage door, threatening to tear it down and blow your cover at any moment.

But, fuck is it hard to focus on anything that isn't the soft tap, tap, tap of a velvety cockhead at your entrance. Doing nothing more than spread you open and let you feel the light pressure as he breaches you, only to pull away and repeat it all over again.

Your barefoot lifts off the ground, blindly kicking behind yourself. That might be a shin that you make contact with, but it very well could be another piece of junk on Bradley's garage floor. "Hurry up, asshole."

Bob's halfhearted chuckle almost sounds like the low rumble of thunder, "I will, I will."

But all that does is change his method of torment. Lazily sliding himself between your folds, length rubbing past your swollen clit, sends a frustrating shiver up your spine.

Light flashes.

As white as lightning, but it didn't come from outside.

Click.

That mechanical whirr sounds like...

"Did you just take a damn picture?" But your question is answered the moment you turn your head because there's Bobby, setting that silvery Polaroid camera back onto the table. A thin white piece of film hanging between his upturned lips, color yet to develop. "Isn't that—that's Mav's camera!"

"I know it," Bob's pocketing that dumb little photo without a second thought, jaw flexing as it clenches, "ain't like he's gonna notice."

Pressure blooms as that wet, thick cock head begins to push into you, effectively shoving your thoughts from your own mind. Excess lubricant squelching as that thick tip fully slips inside of you so suddenly that your knees shudder. Pussy stretched wide around him, still tender from how he bent you over the kitchen counter this morning before the coffee had even finished brewing.

Fingertips swirl around your hips, tickling the skin there as he eases in. Your head is too heavy to hold up, forehead thumping against the soft leather of Mav's motorcycle seat. Such an odd place for him to have you out of all of the hiding spaces in Bradley's house.

If you'd known that a nightmare of a storm would force the semi-annual Dagger Squad Cookout into an unplanned sleepover, you would have bugged Bob to bring condoms. Something about these events always leaves you heading home with a limp in your step.

"Look so pretty like this," Bob's big palms span out against your ass, squeezing greedy handfuls of you, unaware of how his cock pushes a desperate gasp from your burning lungs. "Takin' my cock so well."

It's hard recalling just when your eyes fell shut, but you're opening them. Peering over your shoulder once more, mouth opening, but unable to ask him to hurry up. Finish getting inside before your weary legs shudder out from under you.

He hears you.

You don't say a word, but he hears you.

His sweaty palm runs up your spine, hips tilting forward in earnest now. That dull pressure growing into an aching burn as your pussy flutters around him, split wide. You haven't the slightest clue what the rest of his Navy buddies are packing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion that Bob's the thickest one here. Obnoxiously sized to add to that unsuspecting personality of his.

Always the quiet ones.

"Hurry up," your weak voice is hardly able to get out of your mouth, vocal cords strung too tight, "Mav's gonna lose his shit if he finds us in here."

Those big hands grip your waist, holding you still as he draws back agonizingly slow. Paint could dry faster, but fuck does he rub against those sensitive spots so nicely. Perfectly sculpted, like he was made just for you. "I don't care about what that ol' bastard has to say," his tone a little rigid, not its typical lightness.

Is he... "Are you jealous?"

His hips snap forward. Smugly slamming that thick length of his back into you, punches a wail right out of your throat. Your knees nearly buckle. Body bouncing forward a little too far, the frame of a thirty-thousand-dollar motorcycle rocking with you. "Nope."

Fuck fuck fuck you've struck a nerve.

"You're jealous!" And you'd be looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face if he weren't leaning down. Pressing his clothed chest up against your back, bodies snug together, bouncing with each tentative thrust. Figuring out his pace.

"I'm not jealous," sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling, "I'm being perfectly reasonable."

Because being reasonable involves him bending you over Maverick's motorcycle. A reasonable man takes someone else's Polaroid camera to snap a photo of your cunt wrapped around his cock. But you can't complain about this form of reasonable because it is downright delicious.

Possessive hands dip beneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of your body beneath his touch as he fucks you. Soft puffs of breath knocked from your lungs with every

"That old man is so fucking touchy, sometimes I just wanna..." but he doesn't finish that sentence. Too distracted by the lewd squelch of your pussy, so loud in this garage.

Wind shakes the garage door like an angry fist, howling as it tries to squeeze through the minuscule gaps in the corners. A breeze is all that slips past, licking past your ankles. Only seems to make the room colder when Bob peels away from you, rhythm stalling as he reaches for something on the table.

A second flash tears through the room. Some dumb little whirring sound follows in hot pursuit.

And whatever picture he's taken must be a good one because he doesn't start moving again. Too fixated on that dumb little square that has hardly developed yet. Doesn't respond when you wriggle your hips backward, doing the work your damn self.

This is a horrible position. Legs too far apart to do much, can't pull too far forward without rocking Maverick's beloved motorcycle, gas in the tank sloshing. A warning that you want nothing more of.

But it's easy to stand up properly.

Letting Bobby's cock slip out of you as your back straightens, the garage floor cold against your bare feet as you turn to face the bastard himself. His mouth is moving, but nothing comes out. Unable to make a noise as your fingers tangle in soft, messy hair and pull.

"Ow, ow, ow," he squeaks, eyes scrunching shut as you manhandle him. Knees thunking painfully against cold concrete, unable to do more than paw at your hand as you push him onto his back.

Those glasses jostle, sliding further up his face, and it's almost enough to loosen your grip on his hair.

Almost.

"If you're going to fuck me against Mav's bike because you're jealous," you grit, pulling his head back impossibly further, all to get a better look at his pretty pale neck. "Then you'd better do it right."

His cock bounces against his belly, lube staining his shirt, the only one he has for the night. Angry, flushed tip begging for your attention, twitching when you wrap your hand around him. A little too firm as you pump him, downright squeezing that little grunt out of him.

"I'm sorry," his fist shakes, waving that little polaroid in the air, "I was...it developed, and I—ah!"

His back lifts off the ground, torn between chasing and squirming away from the swift thumb that rubs at the underside of his head. And you think that just might be a little bit of precum that spills out of him, coating your already drenched hand.

True to his word, one of the photos already developed. It's hard to tell which one it is or when it was taken, but even in the poor lighting of the picture, the sight is unmistakable. You. Head down against Maverick's motorcycle seat, Bob's cock only halfway in you, shirt pushed up to reveal your naked back.

Now you see why he was so distracted.

Letting loose of his hair, you begin to move. Properly settling into his lap now, guiding him back up into your aching cunt. So sore already, and you're not even close yet.

Those pretty blue eyes roll back, chest rising with a gasp, "shit."

The camera hits the ground with a clatter, falling right out of his hand without a second thought. No concern of whether it's broken or not, too focused on touching you instead. Clammy palms roaming beneath your shirt, clinging as you sink down on him. Always has to be touching you.

You're already seizing one of them, ignoring how much bigger his hand is compared to yours, as you drag his calloused fingers down between your legs. He doesn't need any further encouragement, pressing a rough thumb against your neglected clit without a second thought.

"That's it," you breathe; now it's your turn to dip beneath his shirt. Hands roaming past soft belly and hard chest, feeling the way he shudders beneath your wandering touch. Such a subtle motion that seems to burn itself beneath your eyelids.

The concrete floor is cold against your knees, biting at your skin as you begin to move. Uncomfortable, but it's still better than the truck bed you rode him in a few weeks ago. And it's so easy to ignore when Bob's hips swivel, fat cock nudging against a small bundle of nerves inside of you.

All the while, his thumb is finding swirls lazily, struggling to keep up with the quick motion of your body. And it's not the best that he can do, but it's got your heart pounding in your chest regardless. Downright panting like a dog as you take what you want, so wrapped up in the way that he fills you.

Stars sparkle in your vision, mottling your near picture-perfect view of Bob's flushed face. Glasses and hair askew, half-lidded eyes peering up at you like you're a work of art. Grunting with every quick meet of your hips, the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the bare walls.

"I've given you an idea, haven't I?" Bob's panting, more of a statement than a question, because there can only be one reason that you're picking up the camera.

It's hard to aim this old thing; too close to really see much, forcing you to lean backward. Color is already beginning to spread across the film as it whirrs out of the camera. What looks to be the soft outline of glasses, or maybe that's his watch...

God, do you hope that the flash doesn't erase the strawberry red from Bobby's cheeks in the final product because it is everything.

A whimper rattles out from beneath you.

Bob's hips impatiently squirm, bucking up into your now still body. Needy. Desperate for you to do something, anything. Put into the same conundrum he put you into just a few minutes ago.

"What?" Fighting back your smile, "Something the matter, Bobby?" This wasn't planned, but oh, are you gonna commit to it. Such a perfect situation dropped right into your lap.

His eyebrows knit together, nose scrunching with it, "Y'know there is."

But he doesn't elaborate any further, and you're having too much fun watching him writhe to let him out of it easily. Feigning innocence, cocking your head to the side and all. No, you truly have no idea why he could be so fussy beneath you right now.

"There is?" You chirp as innocently as you can muster. A little too fake.

A little too much for the man beneath you.

Your back hits cold, hard ground. Head cushioned by a big hand that's settled behind it, a strong body settling atop of yours. Legs spread impossibly wide, unable to do anything but kick your heels against Bobby's ass.

"'m too close for y'to be pullin' this shit," fuck, fuck, fuck, that childhood accent of his is coming out.

And there's not a damn thing you can do but drop everything in your hands and dig your nails into his biceps because he's already beginning to fuck into you. Knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust in, balls smacking heavily against you. Cock head hitting those little nerves dead on. Has a tingling settling into your inner thighs.

"Yeah, now y'got nothin' t'say, do ya?" He's grunting into your ear, sharp teeth nipping the shell of it. That deep voice alone shouldn't have you clamping down around him the way you do, thighs fluttering as they try to squeeze him tighter. Closer.

Yet you can do nothing to slow those unrelenting thrusts; no, if anything, you spur him on even further. Drawn into a frenzy by the way your cunt spasms around him, overwhelmed and stretched to your damn limit. Knocking little sounds out of you that you don't recognize, pitchy, almost pitiful.

"Touch yourself for me," he orders it as if you could possibly need anything more. Heat already pools low in your belly, bubbling to the surface. "C'mon, wanna feel your lil pussy cum 'round me."

But there goes your hand. Reaching down between your tightly pressed bodies, barely enough space for you to crook your fingers and press the pads of them to your swollen clit. Spiraling in their favorite fashion, rubbing over it once, twice—

The heat coiling in your abdomen snaps.

Spreading across every inch of your body as your back arches off the frigid floor, cumming with a cry that's muffled by Bob's sweaty palm clamping over your mouth. Pussy spasming around his still-pistoning dick, clenching tight. Every nudge of his plush head against those nerves enough to have you jolting, head too cloudy to do anything else.

Dully, you're aware of a sudden stillness as Bob cums. Heat spilling into you, promising to leave a sticky mess that you can't be fucked to worry about right now. And then there's that heaviness that follows, all hundred and eighty pounds of him settling on top of you like a weighted blanket.

A weighted blanket that gives lots and lots of kisses.

Peppering over your cheeks, across your jaw, and down your sweaty neck. Not skipping the opportunity to love on every protruding vein and imperfection your body has to offer. That remarkably cold nose taps at you with each one, like a little piece of hail that's gotten in through the garage door.

"I don't know whether to thank Mav or to kick his ass," you croak. Has your throat always been so dry? It takes a moment to get your eyes open; already that time of night when closing your eyes comes with a risk of dozing off until morning.

There he is.

That dumb, soft face with his equally dumb cherry-red ears. You can't help but reach up and squish one of those flushed cheeks, watching how pale blue eyes track your every movement. Could very well dodge your torment if he wanted to, but he doesn't seem to take any interest in that.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He murmurs, leaning against your hand. It can't be comfortable, holding himself in this position, oversensitive cock still lodged deep inside of you, bony knees and elbows digging into the ground. Yet he doesn't move.

Your head shakes, "I would have told you if you did."

There's that soft grin of his. Taking over his features as he leans in to press his lips against yours, too lazy for anything but a chaste peck that he sighs into. Then a second, and a third, until teeth clatter together because you're smiling too much.

His elbow cracks as he leans back onto his haunches, properly pulling himself out of you now. And you almost wish he didn't because you can already feel his cum beginning to leak out of you.

Without a word, he reaches for the camera resting next to you.

To say that you're surprised is an overstatement. "Are you taking another picture?"

"Uhuh," one of Bob's eyes scrunch shut as he peers through the little viewfinder. Looks like a proper damn photographer as he takes one more photo.

"You know that Mav's gonna notice the missing film, right?" It's not even a doubt in your mind that he'll notice before he's finished his coffee. Has been meticulously photographing anything and everything he finds worthy of going into his album, from a plain coffee mug to Javy climbing a tree in pursuit of the neighbor's cat.

"I know it," Bob hums, setting the camera down in favor of reaching for the scattering of discarded pictures, "and I hope the touchy bastard spends forever wonderin' where it went."

His hand disappears into his back pocket, producing a worn, leather wallet that's four years older than your relationship. Fraying at the edges but still sturdy.

"You're putting them all in your wallet?" You ask it as if it's not exactly what he's doing.

"Yeah," but he freezes. Blinking rapidly as he glances back up at you. "Did you want one to put in yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," and with that said, you're reaching for the camera. Scooping it off the ground just one more time, aiming it right up at him.

And for once, he doesn't try to dodge the camera. Holding still and letting you snap the photo you're after. Some little unsuspecting shot of his sleepy face and lazy smile, the kind of thing that nobody would be able to tell the context of.

Because, unlike Bob, you don't enjoy having a mini heart attack every time you open your wallet around someone.

Getting off the ground is a task all on its own. Two tired bodies bumping into each other, trying to help but only serving to make the situation even worse. Your pants lie discarded on top of a workbench; how they got there, you have no idea, and Bob trips on the singular step out of the garage.

Miraculously, nobody has woken up during your escapades. Not a soul awake as you skitter towards the spare bedroom you've been given, hand in hand.

But you do wake up to the sound of Maverick accusing Jake of 'taking his camera out for a joyride.'

"Least he ain't noticed that his bike was taken out for a joyride, too," Bob whispers into your temple, voice so groggy that you can hardly understand him.

Opening your eyes is not a task you're about to undertake, still clinging to the sweet, cozy embrace of sleep. So close that you can reach out and touch it. "You're lucky he's not your instructor anymore."

"Y'don't wanna see me do two hundred pushups?"

Your eyes snap open. "On second thought," but Bob's rolling on top of you before you can even pretend to get up and tell Maverick of your crimes.

A pair of Polaroid cameras arrive at your house within the week. With an album that you can't wait to fill.

#x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #top gun smut #bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #reader insert #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #self insert #reader self insert

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reqxxyt · 1 year

Text

snowed in d.r

[unedited] requests open !

pairings: daniel r. x f!reader

warnings: none (?)

masterlist

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Usually, when someone asks another to come over at 12 am directly, it’s expected to end up in a bed. When I got the text from Daniel to come over at 12:15 am, I didn’t think much of the situation thinking it was just out of boredom. That’s how I ended up at his apartment, snowed in. He didn’t think to tell me that the chances that this would happen were high seeing as there were ice on the roads and the streets were barely walkable.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here” My breath could be seen as I bundled myself up into what was meant to be a heated blanket he offered the first hour when the electricity was going but now was just a regular blanket after the power outage.

“I didn’t want to be alone” he argued in disbelief that I would leave him. I only rolled my eyes, still shivering while watching the downloaded movie that was playing on his laptop on the brink of dying. We stayed underneath the same blanket for heat support meanwhile my own heart was pumping abnormally fast each time his skin would brush against my own leaving harsh goosebumps.

An intimate scene came on screen, having the two main characters near kiss underneath the starlight night. Without realizing, I leaned closer being invested in the movie until the laptop suddenly shut off.

“What.” I said pushing my upper body back where Daniel had been leaning against the couch now having his front touch my back. I groaned now too invested in the movie wanting it back on. Daniel chuckled beside me and I lifted myself up, allowing part of the blanket to drop on the edge of the couch. “I should just leave, what am I still doing here?”

“You wouldn’t dare” his jaw fell and I only glared in response ready to say yes, not being serious. “Fine. Let me walk you outside then”

My heart stopped for a second, thinking if I should take back what I said not being serious about me leaving. But maybe he was tired of my complaints so I headed to the door with him tracing behind me.

I stepped foot outside the apartment building and immediately felt snow rush to my neck, crawling downwards. I shrieked at the feeling before turning around seeing Daniel with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oh you’re so dead” I accepted the request and grabbed a fistful of snow before chucking it at him, plastering it straight to his face making me laugh while he coughed up some remains from his mouth. We kept throwing snow balls at each other laughing whenever one tripped just to fall right afterward.

Heavy laughter could be heard all the way from down the street if one tried to intervene but no one would walk out while snowing this badly. As I went to pick up another snowball ready for the best throw of my life, I turned my head not being able to spot Daniel.

“Daniel?” I called out, feeling my throat get itchy amd could already hear my voice sounding horsed. As I was about to turn to check behind me, I felt a giant body weight land on top of me only to spot the person I had been looking for laying on me. He laughed while I groaned trying to shove him away. “Get off”

“Never going to happen” he booped my nose and it finally settled the position we were laid in. My breath slowed down as he stared down at me with soft eyes, our visible breath connected with one another as my hands that were before trying to shove him, comfortably laid on my chest not sure where to lay them.

My heart started to pick up its pace the longer we lasted in the position, wishing he would be the first to move whether that was forward or backwards.

“Your nose is really red” was the only thing he whispered to me. Finally my consciousness came back as I shoved him to the side making a joke out of it in fear he didn’t mean anything by laying on me.

“You owe me food for practically killing me” I said getting myself off the ground. He laughed nervously before following me to the car garage.

“You really shouldn’t drive in this weather” his voice filled with only concern, I looked to my car before looking back at his pleading eyes and finally caved in.

“It should’ve been at my house” was all I could say as we went back inside feeling a small relief that it was a bit warmer compared to outside. I didn’t want to mention what happened only 5 minutes ago and I doubt he wanted to either so we stayed silent the entire way back to his apartment.

My phone had been on the brink of dying for the last hour and I refused to use it knowing I didn’t want a dead battery so there wasn;t much to do as the morning started to rise.

“Want to go to sleep?” I heard Daniel ask behind me as we entered immediately wrapping myself in the blanket. I nodded and followed him to the bedroom thanking myself for my earlier decision on wearing sweatpants and not jeans. Neither of us said anything as we lie down, on opposite sides of the bed having trouble going to sleep with the constant reminder of the cold.

The silence was loud. I tried going to sleep but the constant teeth grinding heard from the other side was starting to get irritating. “Daniel?”

“Yeah” was barely above a whisper, we turned to each other and without much light in the room I could still see cheeks turning a pink tone.

“You're shivering,” I said with a concerned tone pushing him the heavy weighted blanket that I had. “We can share”

“Thanks” he said huddling up closer to me but with enough safe distance to have both of us feel comfortable.

Hours passed by and the sun finally shined through the window, little warmth entering the bedroom as I started to wake up. I felt arms wrapped around my sides, confused I look to above to be showcased a VIP of Daniel's face.

Immediately, my face flushed and I wanted to get out. Our arms had been intertwined, mine wrapped around his own torso meanwhile our legs were wrapped around each other. I physically couldn’t see a way out of his grasp so I stayed there knowing how grumpy he’ll be if woken up.

Half an hour passed by and I stayed, not moving. Contemplating all my past life choices. My heart kept going fast every time I would glance at him and he would mumble something.

“It’s not nice to stare” was the first audible response I heard before I jumped at the sound quickly getting out of his grasp, thankful he woke up but also missing the warmth that his body brought. “You okay?” He asked seeing my stumbles out of the bed. I only nodded trying to get myself to calm down.

“Sorry if I woke you up” I quickly apologized as he slowly adjusted himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed having a personal heater. "His smile made me want to jump out the window. Not my best idea considering we were on the third floor. I sat o. The edge of the bed having my hands laid flat on both sides with my back facing him. I heard sounds of him moving before I finally felt his hand graze my own sending goosebumps up my arm.

“What are you doing Daniel?” I asked, turning to see him still playing with my hand, tracing the outline before looking up at me with curious eyes. His gaze kept drifting downwards to my lips, debating whether to do it himself. “Daniel-”

Lips interrupted me mid sentence as I felt his lips harshly land on mine, bringing his hands on both sides of my face. With not much hesitation, my lips followed, crazing for more as I could feel my own stomach doing summer salt flips with the way my heart had no intention of slowing down. The kiss turned gentle as he had brought himself forward, now having to lean down to reach me.

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that sooner” his voice made my heart stop for a moment, loving the way it sounded from it being early in the morning and the intense make out we just had. I stayed silent, not sure how to approach this. “Y/n? Don’t tell me I just threw our four year friendship because I couldn’t handle my emotions”

“I’m glad you did do just that” With a small smile, his own brightened.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine

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fleet-of-fiction · 5 months

Text

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter One

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

A/N: I want to dedicate this fic to all my beautiful friends who have loved and supported me through what could only be described as a difficult time. Their belief in me as a person, who tries to be good even though I'm prone to making hellish mistakes, has been unwavering and as such I wanted to create a piece of writing that I felt they would enjoy and immerse themselves in. So, this ones for you @writingcold @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @katuschka @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @gretavangroupie and everyone else who has been with me on this journey.

Warnings: Religious trauma. Parental trauma. Intense emotions including desire, obsession, grief and yearning. Loss of virginity. Explicit sexual activity. Heavy praise kink. Severe edging. Oral sex m/f. Fingering. Masturbation. Dirty filth talk.

Summer 1984

The Kiszka's were like catching that scent of freshly cut grass on warm summer air. Nostalgic for something I'd never had. Books that I dare not open because my love for the cover meant that I was too afraid to start something I knew I'd never be able to put down. They were Sunday morning distractions, like I'd never known a day without putting my hand to glass and letting their chaos drift in through the open window.

The first time I saw them I didn't know the sound of laughter could make my heart want to die. The sort of rambunctious envy I felt was a thief to any joy I might have found, standing in the dust as I carried boxes into the new house. Theirs was a summer of freedom. And mine was like trying to find solace in the darkness.

The girl was pretty when she smiled. I thought, perhaps, in some other life she and I could have been friends. Sometimes I imagined it, that she would knock on our door and ask for me by name. A delusion I centred within myself whenever I saw her ride by on the yellow push bike that was always leaning against their porch steps. The boys weren't like that, though. No part of me could imagine myself in that wild entanglement. Fires and swearing, ripping their shirts off in the midday heat to wrestle in the dirt. Guitars littering their garage door, riffs that drifted in on the wind making me want to rise from the doldrums.

It just wasn't like that for us. Any hope that I'd carried into Beech Run was dashed the moment my Father shook hands with the patriarch of our neighbours, and immediately insisted that we weren't to go near those people. Godless and bohemian. Without decency. Without enough fear of a faceless, impalpable being that seemed to rule over nobody save for us.

He was a pastor and we paid for that dearly. With our curfews and our diligence and our punishments if we didn't honour God precisely how we should. I stopped believing that an almighty power would have chosen this life for me a long time ago, but nothing felt more certain until we moved to Beech Run. Only the devil would have put us next to the Kiszka's.

"They're so pretty."

Jolene was sitting on the windowsill, playing with her hair as she admired them. She had that faraway look in her eye that most girls had when they were seventeen. Romanticising them, giving them entirely fictionalised morals and wondering what her name would sound like on their lips.

"Come away from the window." I warned, the torture of it something I had already decided I would not endure all summer.

She would bite down on her lip and sway against the glass. Insufferable. Lost in a sea of their sweaty bodies tearing across the front lawn, having water fights and jam sessions in the garage. All the things we were denied. She and I, lumbered with reading lists and prayer groups that made me want to rip out my immortal soul and offer it to the highest bidder.

"The tall one, he looks as if he might sweep you off your feet. He keeps tucking his hair behind his ear, I think I'd like to do that for him."

No good would come of it. I could see the whispering angels and demons perched on my sister's shoulders. Consorting with her. The fathomless ages of young girls who had come before her in their tragic echoes, doomed to desire and the shadow of a breaking heart hanging above her head.

"Come." I encouraged, "Sit and read with me a while. And then shall we see if Ben will take us into town?"

The freedoms allowed to our brother were tantamount to our lack of it. He was the eldest and therefore had the privileges of that. He was male, and existed in a world that Jolene and I did not encompass. Sometimes he would take pity on us and drive us into town to get an ice cream or watch a movie. Sometimes he would be cruel and drive there without even telling us.

"I'm fine here." She sighed, and I suspected she wanted them to see her.

I was far too practical to follow her into that folly of romance. I thought myself immune to it, happy to just read about it in books that would remove me from my present circumstances. Something which had made me a target, previously, for underhand comments as I walked down the school halls or sat in the library just turning pages.

"Fine, until you send yourself silly with all this nonsense." I sighed, putting my book aside and shimmying to the end of my bed.

"I want to know what it feels like, don't you?" She was a dreamer, a conjurer of a fate I could already feel the chill of spilling down my back. "To be taken for a ride in a car, and have them open the door for you. And kiss you goodnight, making you feel like you're the prettiest thing they ever saw. Don't you want that, Bonnie?"

If I had ever wanted it, the moment had passed. Perhaps I was hopeful once, but then hope could be so easily dashed. My sister was beautiful in an uncommon way. Simple and understated, the sort of beauty that was caught at the right angle and once perceived, it was devastating. With long auburn waves and a set of dreamy blue eyes, she had lips that were full and round in complete contrast to what I had to offer.

"No." I replied without hesitation. "I don't want deal with any foolishness, least of all from a man. Don't we put up with enough of that from our own dear brother?"

She rolled her eyes in contention. "It's not the same, and you know it's not. Brothers are nuisances. In the same way Dads are."

With that, I couldn't disagree. Ours was a formidable creature who liked to keep us so pure it was as if any man would contaminate us by breathing the same air. Something which had begun to take it's toll. I had given up, and Jolene was merely awaiting her chance to break all the rules.

"Oh, but not these boys." She sang, returning her gaze to the frivolities unfolding across the street. "These boys are handsome and good. I just know that they are sweet and kind and up close I bet they have all these little nuances that only stand to make them even more handsome."

She would walk into a pit of fire if it promised to love her and adore her. Willing to walk to her heart break like ascending to the gallows with a smile upon her face and would willingly do it all over and over again just for a taste of something like passion. A part of me envied her.

"Maybe you're right." I agreed, deciding it might be worth a peek. "Maybe they are handsome and good. And maybe they will take you riding in a car and kiss you goodnight. But that doesn't change the fact that Dad would never allow it."

There were three of them. The elder of the twins was a lithe and charismatic thing. With a mop of curls and a penchant for wearing his pants low enough that my Dad had balked at the sight of him upon introductions. The younger twin was a little more reserved, hiding behind a curtain of long dark hair. His smile was entirely unexpected just by looking at the depth and darkness of his eyes. Neither of which were mirrored in their younger brother, who had all the hope and exuberance of a puppy dog that hadn't been trained on how to behave around company.

And Jolene was right. They were so infuriatingly pretty. All three of them with the same magnetic curse that had drawn my attention whether I wanted it to or no. I was no better than she, leaning my hand against the glass so that I might see them better. Rolling my tongue around in my mouth as I tried to appear calm.

"I'll jump out of a thousand windows before I ever let Daddy tell me who I can or cannot love."

I believed her. There was something in the way she stared out of that window that made me truly believe she would never let such a thing come between her and her desires. And as I looked down at the object of her affection, he saw me for the very first time.

Shirtless and sweaty, his hair wet and slicked back. He raised a hand to his brow and stared directly into our bedroom window. His brother, coming to see what had distracted him, followed his line of vision. Raising his hand, the two of them drenched and flushed pink as they stood at the end of their driveway regarding us. And we, against our better judgement, stared back.

I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how I might be regarded by another. It was a terrible thing to be young and have innocence imposed. I would trail my fingers down my breasts and imagine that the handsome boy who had peered into my window was standing in the darkness behind me.

I couldn't see him. He wasn't a perfect image. His face was blurred from the distance of where he'd stood in my memories of that day. But it was him that I summoned whenever I touched myself. There was no other who came to mind. It was always the younger twin, the one with the long hair who had dared to stand and watch.

Perhaps it was his boldness that had made him stay with me. There was something bookish about his demeanour, like he'd been written by a woman for other women to fantasise about. Simply by standing there in the summer heat, taking note of me. Like I wasn't a ghost, after all.

"Open the door, Bonnie."

His voice ran through me like the prickle of a stinging nettle against flesh. To hear it whilst I stood there, naked, made my skin crawl.

"Just a second." I replied, pulling on my robe and hurrying to obey.

My Father was on the other side, standing there with a sourness that questioned precisely why I had been in the bathroom quite as long as I had. He would ask if I had been partaking in a sin, but at the same time he wouldn't speak it into existence. He simply cleared his throat and nodded at me.

"Your Mother and I were thinking, for the service this coming Sunday, that you and your sister would like to say a few words about how welcoming our flock have been since we arrived here."

His suggestion drew an audible sigh of disappointment. That I would be expected to stand in front of our neighbours and peers as if I were somehow grateful felt like a deception in the house of God. I could imagine their faces, thinking us good little Christian girls and what perfect examples of the lord's word. A credit to our loving Father. And our Mother, who would sit there in her perpetual silence and allow it to unfold without so much as an uttering against it.

"Of course." I replied obediently, "As you wish, Daddy."

He nodded his approval, clenching his jaw as if he'd anticipated a different response.

"I'd like the congregation to see what lovely girls we have." He mused, the grey flecked moustache that sat above his upper lip twitching. "They need to see that their pastor is the head of a good, solid foundation."

I had already agreed to his demand. There was no requirement for him to stand there and justify it any further. I was consciously aware of my state of undress, and felt it necessary to continue to nod my agreement as I scurried back to my room.

"Oh, and Bonnie?" He caught my arm, firm but not enough to cause pain. "Please make sure your sister stays away from the window tonight."

He would feel superior and I would feel beholden to it. As I smiled and nodded, as if I somehow held the reigns of my sister's deeds. He was smug and I was left wondering how he even knew that she'd been standing there.

"Yes, Daddy." I muttered, knowing it would have been futile to try and convince him otherwise.

She was feigning sleep as I came into the room. Making rudimentary noises and shuffling about as if in dream. I dressed quickly and quietly and it wasn't until I had switched off my lamp and laid my head down that she decided to end her performance.

"Bonnie?"

I flicked the lamp back on. "Yes?"

"Do you think Daddy will let us go to down to the creek this summer? I heard the Kiszka's talking about it outside. They said there was going to be a heat wave and all the kids from Beech Run and the next town over would be heading there. I sure would like to go."

There was an effervescent hope in her voice. That somehow, if she could only say it out loud, it might make it come true. I ruminated on the right way to tell her I couldn't see it being a possibility, not wanting to shatter her dreams entirely.

"Perhaps, if Ben is there escort us, there might be a chance." I offered, knowing that our brother had no intention of escorting us anywhere during his first summer in a new place with all the freedoms and folly of a youth that was extended to him.

She was leaning on her palm. Playing with a thread on her pillow case, her mouth all smushed up as she contemplated what I'd said.

"I just want to be like all the other girls." She sighed, before turning over and signalling the end of her part in our conversation.

"Dad wants us to say a few words at service this Sunday." I told her, plunging the room back into darkness, "Maybe we'll tell them all how he keeps us here like prisoners."

I heard a small, almost indiscernible titter from Jolene's side of the room. But I let her be. Sinking into my bed sheets and trying to imagine I time where I'd ever been satisfied.

He was there, again. Standing in the darkness. Haunting me. His imperfect face just beyond where I could see, the shape of him calling out to me. A set of deep set brown eyes appraised me, squinting through sunlight to get a better look at me. And I replayed it over and over until it was scratched into my memory like an old cassette that had worn it's self down to white noise.

I just wanted to know his name.

It was a Thursday evening. When the wall clock in the kitchen stopped. Summer rain began to fall. My Mother lost her most treasured thimble whilst sewing a set of curtains in the chair by the front window. And my Father was berating us for a less than exuberant attempt at writing a speech for the up coming church service.

He had us standing there like sentinels. Brushing his disappointment over us as if we were his canvas. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle, a deep rooted need to protect my little sister from this sort of tirade starting to bubble away beneath the surface.

"I don't feel your gratitude, Jolene." He scorned, scrunching her script up in his hands like it was a tissue he'd used to blow his nose. "Try something a little more heart felt."

She was on the verge of tears. I could see them welling up in the corners of her eyes. I looked over at my Mother and felt a sense of abandonment whilst she was still in the room as she searched for the thimble she had lost. Silently willing her to step in, to say something. Anything.

"We'll have something appropriate drawn up by Sunday." I assured him, waiting to be dismissed.

His dominance was always at it's most ferocious when I dared to even tread into defiance. Sometimes I wondered if he took pleasure in it. The way Jolene trembled beneath his word and I tried and fought in vain to protect her. I wasn't the one prone to rebellion and yet it felt as if I always took the brunt simply because I always tucked Jolene behind me, safely squirrelling her away from his overbearing eye.

"See that you do." He simply replied, waving a cursory hand that allowed us to leave.

I heard my Mother rejoice as the lost thimble was found. My heart sinking that this was her biggest joy. That she had barely taken note of her daughters and our pain and the way we were slowly sinking into oblivion. Why was I even trying to obey?

Perhaps I closed my bedroom door a little more aggressively than I'd intended. It caused the pictures on my wall to shudder. The bottle of perfume on my nightstand rolled over. And Jolene fell into her pillows, leaving the stains of tears in the folds of fabric.

"They'd never convict him a court of law because he doesn't beat us." She sobbed, screaming silently into blankets.

Perhaps he would have if the marks would've been translucent. I often wondered if my Dad had ever thought about beating us into submission. Sometimes the bloody veins in the whites of his eyes and the tiny speck of spit in the corner of his mouth as he raged at us made me wonder if he curled his fist up at just the right moment if he would strike.

"I thought, when we moved here, that things might be different." I dared to wonder, "But if anything, he's worse."

Jolene's face was all blotchy and pink. Sodden with tears and her hair stuck to her wet cheeks.

"He knows, Bonnie." She sniffed. "He knows that if we were given half the chance we'd be across the street. With those boys."

Would it have been so bad? To have known a summer of love? I was eighteen years old. Never been kissed. Never been taken on a date and had a door opened for me. I had tried so hard to ignore it, but I could no longer look away from it. The way I'd been spending more time on it, touching myself and imagining him in the place of my own hand.

"You don't care, anyway." She added, with a little more malice. "You don't want any of it. You're always trying to stop me from looking at them. You're always burying your head in a book, as if that will help."

Perhaps I deserved that. I didn't dare tell her that I'd had a change of heart, of late. That my usual stance had begun to shift. Where once I'd thought the wanting had passed, it had started to become an insatiable curiosity. Even my waking thoughts were plagued by it.

"That's not true." I confessed, laying a careful hand in her hair. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel alone in this. I promise, you're not."

Her nose wrinkled as she looked at me. As if seeing me for the first time. Allied in our awakening interest in the boys across the street.

"I can't stop thinking about him, Bonnie. Every night before I sleep and every morning when I wake up. I wish I could wash him out of my mind. But he's there, all the time, looking up at our window."

"I know, I know..." I soothed, "I've tried to forget that they exist, too."

I'd forgotten to draw our blinds. In our haste to appease our ever demanding Father, I'd left the curtains open too. From the corner of my eye I noticed a light flicker on outside, drawing my attention. I turned and took note of the Kiszka house, the glowing square in the upstairs left quarter was like a beacon against the rural darkness of our street.

"Look." I said, waiting for my sister to follow my gaze.

It was the elder of the twins who appeared. A towel sat snugly around his waist as he ruffled another through his hair. He was lean and perfectly cut, not dissimilar to his counterpart. I felt a sudden shame at watching him, but there seemed to be no care for his close proximity to the window.

He was talking to someone. His mouth moving in soft intervals, as if engaging in a conversation we could not hear. I was enthralled, nonetheless. Wondering what he was talking about. Who he was talking to. He carefully ran his hands through his curls, making sure they were perfectly sculpted. His stomach taught and his arms raised above his head, but it was only inquisitiveness that made me continue to look.

I felt nothing until he appeared. Tossing his brother a clean t-shirt. Doing nothing of value. Padding around and making me feel like the most detestable of voyeurs.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Jolene asked softly, taking note of my how my breath hitched as he appeared. "We can't just pretend like this isn't happening."

"They don't even know we exist." I dismissed her, forcing myself to look away.

"That's not true." She replied fluidly, her voice rising like a song. "We were introduced when we first moved here. They've seen us watching them. Even if it's the only thing they know, it's that we exist."

I wanted so badly for it to be true. I watched him stand there poetically in the window, talking to his brother and running a hand through his long hair. Casual. No care within the world for him. And I envied not only the fact that I couldn't be close to him, but also that I ached to be him.

I didn't settle at all that night. Fretting, feeling as if I held all the anguish in the world in the pit of my stomach. Jolene had nodded off as soon as the light across the street went out. But I continued to stare at the void a while longer. Silent tears streaking my cheek, the salt on my lips like a bitter reminder that it was all I could do to let it out.

I could see my reflection in the glass. A spiritual spectre that didn't have a voice. I stood there in my white linen night gown, ruffled at the sleeves and thought myself truly a ghost. The window was cold to the touch. The night was cool and calm whilst within me raged a tempest.

I didn't want to go to bed and lay down and have my thoughts ruin me. It would have been nightmares that came to me, ones about being locked in a cage. And so I stood there, in the window I had promised not to let my sister stare out of.

That warm glow from across the street reignited. It almost made me flinch. The way the darkness was all consuming, and then there it was. The light on in the room upstairs. I held my breath, as if somehow they'd be able to hear me. Lip trembling as he reappeared, this time alone. A look of forlorn sadness in his face as he went to pull the curtains closed.

He thought he could see something. He thought himself mad as he peered out further, squinting into the darkness as he caught the sight of me. It was in my mind to turn and disregard him, but I was rooted to the spot. Afraid that if I moved I would never feel again the way I felt right then in that moment.

I knew that he could see me. Certain as I knew that he was watching me right back. I could feel the pull of my heart strings dragging it down, into a flurry that churned my stomach like butter. He stood there, his forearm against the glass as he rested his head against it. Staring at me as if he couldn't quite believe I was real.

And then he raised his hand and waved. And I, inexplicably, waved back.

I sat in the choir loft as parishioners began to filter in. Gripping my insincere little speech in my hand, the paper felt as heavy as granite as I turned it in my hands.

I'd barely slept. Keeping vigil the past two nights, waiting for Jake to appear. That was his name. So graciously given to me, scrawled on a piece of paper as we exchanged messages from our respective windows.

It felt like poetry in motion. The first time he held up a crude scribble and asked for my name. It felt like I had been truly seen. I'd hastily scrambled for a pen and a notebook, holding it against the glass whilst he nodded his understanding. Waiting with my heart beating a muffled drum within my chest as he wrote something back.

He asked me why we never came to the creek. Why we never seemed to linger in the wide open spaces all around us. Why we were always in town with our brother. He seemed intrigued. Telling me about his passion for his guitar through page after page of rushed sentences.

The last of which had told me to wait for him in the choir loft before Sunday service.

Only a fool would have agreed to this. To sit there in my Sunday best, knees clicking together in consuming nerves of what I was about to do. Keeping a watchful eye on my Father as he stood at the podium and graciously welcomed his congregation. I'd never seen Jake or his family at church on any Sunday since we'd moved there. I questioned why he'd asked me to wait for him up in the rafters, but not enough to stop myself from agreeing to it.

"Bonnie?"

I clutched the hem of my skirt, knuckles white and my cheeks pale as I swallowed hard. He slid into the seat behind me. Graciously foregoing the seat beside me, I kept my eyes focused forward and felt as if I might melt into the very grain of the wooden pews. He leaned forward, resting elbows on the back of my pew, his breath warm and silken against the curve of my neck.

"Jake." I replied, my mouth suddenly ravenously dry.

What did I even anticipate that the pay off of this risk would be? Just to feel my own heart beating so wildly in my chest that I thought, perhaps, that I might pass out? To have a moment of stolen sin? I could smell the soap he'd used to wash with that very morning and the hint of coffee and toothpaste in the warmth of his breath. Was this ever going to be enough?

"You don't know how long I've wanted to talk to you." He confessed in hushed tones that forced me to close my eyes against the sincerity of the words. "Ever since you moved here. You've been somewhat of an enigma."

Nobody had ever spoken to me like that before. With careless want and an honesty that threatened to choke me. I could feel my palms grow sweaty, a compelling heat rising in my cheeks.

"We're not allowed to talk to boys." I replied earnestly, opening my eyes to a reality I did not want nor could I any longer tolerate.

He scoffed at the insinuation that he was a boy. "I'm twenty years old, I'm hardly that."

There was an innocent playfulness in the way he chased his brothers around their front yard. Their boyish natures belying their true age. I envied more than ever that they'd been granted that. Feeling naïve that I could have ever considered him a mere boy. Now that he was sitting so close to me, I could feel the urge to sin like effervescence bubbling off his skin. Something only men could feel.

"Forgive me." I faltered, bowing my head in solemn regret that I had been so fruitless in my estimation.

But he didn't berate me. "Oh, you're a caged little bird aren't you?"

If I could have let myself cry, he'd have witnessed a dam bursting. I sat there twisting my skirt, almost ripping the paper against it, letting hatred and regret and desire course through my veins. I hoped, more than anything I'd ever hoped for before, that he couldn't see the anguish.

"Are you ridiculing me?" I dared to ask, turning my head ever so slightly to catch him in my periphery.

I could see his lips parted as he lingered at my ear.

"No, never that." He reassured. "But I've seen the way he keeps you behind glass. I've seen you standing at the window watching us. And I tortured myself wondering if you knew that we had been watching you, too."

My breath stilled. "We?"

He boldly leaned a little further forward. Joining me in my gaze as I stared down at the growing crowd below. His chin almost rested on my shoulder, his hair almost brushed against my cheek. I couldn't stand it, the close proximity and the way I felt as if I couldn't move an inch.

"My brother Sam, and I." He confirmed. "He thinks your sister is damn near the prettiest little thing he's ever seen. But I told him no, that's not true. There's more grace and beauty in the older sister. She is where my mind runs to when I look towards your house."

To consider that he had thought of me made the centre of my chest begin to throb with a yearning I had never endured before. It filled that empty space between my ribs. Aching to crawl out and consume the rest of my body. I could scarcely breathe. My hand instinctively dropped the hem of my skirt and flew to my collar bone. Resting there as I tried to calm my beating heart.

"I didn't think you knew we even existed." I whispered, letting his confidence shine down on me, a part of me feeling fearless enough to make these confessions.

"On the contrary." He replied, sweeping his breath across my cheek bone, quite unintentionally as he lingered close to me. " I've thought of you often ever since you arrived. Wondering if you were ever going to make friends with my sister so that I could have the opportunity to talk to you. It was the greatest disappointment when we realised it wasn't meant to be."

His dream had been mine. The two of us worlds apart, and yet staggeringly close. Wanting the same wants. Needing the same needs. Laying his head down each night with that same blurred image of me that I had kept of him, too. God had finally answered my prayers.

"There is nothing more that I want that that." I replied wistfully, "But he would never allow it. We'd be punished. Called wicked. Or worse."

Jake shook his head and slinked back, taking away the heat of his body and leaving me cold.

"There's nothing wicked about the desire for connection." He surmised, tucking his hair behind his ear and pulling out a cigarette from his shirt breast pocket. Putting it between his lips for later. "You tell that air headed brother of yours to bring you down to the creek tomorrow."

"Ok." I replied quietly, feeling the essence of hope leave with him as he scurried away.

He didn't linger. I couldn't see his face in the crowd as I stood at the podium. He'd slipped out as easily as he'd slipped in, and I was grateful. I didn't want him to see me up there. Making a breath full of lies for ears that would have listened to any old garbage I could have come up with.

It was all I could think about as I talked about how the sanctity of strong family values held our bonds with God together. Something about honouring thy Father. As I pictured Jake sitting behind me, hot breath on my skin and the scent of his cologne still in the air I breathed. If I was wicked, I was already going to hell.

Ben was sitting in the car, his arm draped casually over the back of the passenger seat. His hair was neatly combed to the side, his shirt tucked into his slacks as he checked his teeth in the rear view mirror.

"We don't want to go into town today." Jolene complained, slumping into the back seat with a pout that she would never let our Dad ever see. "Why can't you just take us to the creek?"

He turned and pointed an ominous finger. I was inclined to bat it out of my way as I slipped in beside Jolene. Knowing she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"You're going to town. I got a date with Harriet Dinsmore. I've been trying to pin her down for weeks. So don't start with all this going to the damn creek nonsense." He spat, carefully running a palm down the perfectly sculpted slicked hair that made him look uncannily like our Dad.

Jake had been unflinchingly correct in his estimation of our brother. For Ben, life meant never having to use much intelligence. He would fly off the back of our Fathers coat tails. No doubt becoming a pastor himself. Not for God but for the glory of it. But whilst he still held the keys to the car in his hands, I'd be smart.

"Oh, come on." I rallied, "You don't want your little sisters moping around while you try to court a pretty girl. We're better off at the creek. You can pick us up after."

I caught him roll his eyes in the mirror. "You would have me lie to Dad?"

Jolene popped her bubble gum, smirking as she stared out of the window over towards the Kiszka's house.

"It's only a lie if you tell Dad you're taking us into town with you. Has he asked where you're taking us?"

She knew there'd be a presumption made. But would use the semantics to her advantage. I felt a cool sense of pride in her, exchanging a knowing look as Ben rolled the thought around in his tiny little mind.

"Harriet Dinsmore? Isn't she the girl who works at the ice cream place?" I feigned interest. "She sure is pretty."

All it took was a few soft words about her hair. Her eyes. The way she served ice cream so deftly. She never spilled a drop. I wondered if he'd been so pliant before, if we'd had opportunities missed because we were so afraid of what our Father might do if he found out.

I was fuelled by that simple demand. That we get our air head brother to bring us to the creek. For what purpose, I didn't care. But I knew that if I didn't try I would reek of regret. And once Ben agreed to take us, I felt a sense of accomplishment that I'd never managed before.

Jolene was ratified in her excitement. Staring out of the window, beholden to a freedom so rarely afforded to us. We were given fair warning, of course, to keep to ourselves and not talk to any interested boys. To be on our best behaviour and not give him him any cause to have to tell Dad where we had been.

I did wonder what went through his mind as he dropped us at the side of the road, where the gate that lead down to creek stood open against a rickety old fence. I could hear voices in the distance. Jovial ones. And suddenly I was stricken with the stupidity of what we were about to do.

"Did he really say that?" Jolene asked, pulling down her little linen shorts and pulling fingers through her loose curls. "Did Sam Kiszka really say that I was damn near the prettiest thing he'd ever seen?"

If not for her, then for who? I set aside my reservations. Flattened down the pleat in my sun dress and pulled down the edge of my hat. I would make a fool of myself if it meant that she got to have just five minutes talking to the boy she liked. No more standing at the window wondering.

"That's what I hear." I replied, taking her hand as we sauntered through the gate and down the incline of the field towards the river bank at the bottom.

The tall grass weaved between my bare legs. Brandishing sleek little kisses against my inner thighs. The tips almost brushed against my crotch, each step like a feather dancing against my flesh. And it did not serve me well. I could see him standing on the embankment. Shirtless and long hair blowing in the warm breeze. I felt my stomach tie itself in knots over the sight of him, feeling as if the grass itself was inviting me to arousal as I walked towards him.

"Are you nervous?" Jolene asked, her hand still clutched firmly in the curl of my own. "I'm real nervous."

"Just stay close by." I soothed, "Don't leave my side, and we'll be just fine."

There were pockets of people dotted up and down the tree lined incline. Some were splashing around in the creek bed, where it met a wide opening that created a shallow pool, others were bathing in the sunshine. An array of colourful bathing suits on display. It was hot. The sort of hot where everything felt sticky and wet. There were balls and frisbee's being tossed around. Music playing from a boom box hanging from a broken tree branch. Beers sitting in coolers. Cigarettes and a sense that perhaps I'd bitten off more than I was willing to chew.

They were all there. All three of them and their sister, sitting in folding chairs and on blankets dotted around the clearing next to the water. There were a few faces I didn't recognise, too. Friends, no doubt. I didn't know where to look. It felt as if perhaps we were intruding, on account of the fact we weren't dressed appropriately for the occasion. We didn't even own bathing suits. It was apparent that we'd made a mistake.

Everyone was staring at us. Eyes boring into us as we approached. Jolene's hand squeezed mine. A silent plea for whatever we had walked into to stop feeling like a trap. Why did it feel as if I was feeding not only her, but myself to the wolves? They appraised us like creatures who belonged in a zoo. Eyes widened and sun shades slipped down their noses to get a better look at the Jones sisters.

"You came." Jake said breezily, greeting us at the edge of his little pocket. "I didn't think you would."

It was still in my mind to turn around and head back. But there was something in the way he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand that made me willing to stay.

"You said to come." I hedged, every inch of me burning from the curious stares.

He was wearing a pair of denim shorts, cut at the knee. With a waist band so low I could make out the edge of whatever he had on underneath. With his body on unapologetic display, I didn't know where to politely look. There was only his eyes that could have accepted my gaze appropriately. And they were so intense I could feel myself wanting to back off.

"I did." He agreed, "And here you are. Let's get you introduced."

We accepted the seats we were offered. But declined the beers. Jolene sheepishly grinned as names were thrown at us and I tried so hard to commit them to memory. There was the Kiszka's; Jake, Josh, Sam and Ronnie. Danny Wagner and another friend from school, Lewis Dinsmore. Who's poor sister was stuck on a date with our unbearable brother. I was grateful for it, regardless. It provided an initial talking point which ingratiated us into the group, enabling me to calm my nerves as I sat there trying to act as if I didn't feel like a duck out of water.

"So, Bonnie. Are you a senior or did you graduate?" Ronnie Kiszka asked, hands on her hips as she supped on a bottle of beer and eyed the length of my dress.

"Umm, I graduated." I replied, "At our last school, in Ohio."

"So, what's the plan? College?" She continued, her questions posed innocently enough. But I felt like I was under the microscope. "I'm going to Michigan State in the fall."

"Oh, that's great." I tried to keep my voice steady and casual. "I'd love to go to college, but I'm needed at home to help my Mom."

Josh was sitting on a blanket, resting on his palms with his chin tilted up towards the sky. Languishing in a similar state of undress as his brother.

"Oh, is she sick or something?" He asked, pushing his shades up into his mess of curls as he looked over at me.

"No." I replied, looking down into my lap. "No, nothing like that..."

Jolene was more than happy to answer their questions. The intrusion didn't seem to phase her, she lapped up the attention like a neglected pup as I sat there wondering what they must have thought of us. Uncomfortable at the idea of it. Of them knowing our Dad would keep us at home rather that receiving a college education. That we were supposed to be somewhere else, and I wondered if any of them would know to keep our being there under wraps.

I couldn't hide my disdain. I smiled and nodded where required, but offered nothing in the way of conversation. I sat in the shadows whilst my sister took the reigns. Her desire to be part of something beyond our house was being fed to bursting and I could see the colour rise in her cheeks the more they enquired. Especially when Sam addressed her directly, their eyes finding each other in undeniable attraction. And all I could do was witness it unfold, hoping that my silence wasn't being mistaken for ill manners.

"You wanna get out of here?"

I looked up. Jake was standing at my feet, his hand extended for me to take.

"I probably shouldn't leave Jolene." I fretted, seeing how much she didn't need me.

"Probably shouldn't." He echoed, keeping his hand firmly offered. "Or is it because you're afraid of what might happen if you do?"

He'd been so kind. So humble. Introducing us to his friends and family. Like we weren't the spectacle we'd been when we first arrived. He'd been hospitable. Making jokes and including us in them. He'd made me laugh. Not just a giggle, but from my belly upwards. Making me radiate a smile that had been hidden for so long I hadn't even known I could smile like that.

"Afraid, of what?" I asked, although I suspected it was what he'd wanted.

He didn't say it out loud. There was only a hint of it in the way he curled his fingers up and urged me to go with him. I thought, perhaps, that he could see my uncertainty etched there in my face as I tried to fit in. All the things I wouldn't confess to. That I was afraid I'd spend my whole life never knowing what it truly felt like to be adored. Afraid that I'd always be a vessel for thoughts and feelings that would never be allowed to be expressed. Afraid that I'd never get to explore what it meant to be a woman. Fears that seemed to go unspoken. And yet, he heard me.

Jolene was sat with her chair practically on top of Sam's. Their heads bowed together in a conversation nobody else was invited to. I could see his hand edging towards coming to rest upon her knee, but he kept graciously stopping himself. Peering into her eyes instead, letting her ramble on about nothing in particular. Enchanted by her. And she, in turn, seemed entirely smitten with him. Blushing every time he tucked his hair behind his ear. Every time he threw his head back and let out the most infectious laugh I'd ever heard. He was being gentle with her.

"Come on." Jake said, "I know a spot we can go to."

Nobody seemed to care as he took one of the blankets and began to lead me away. Jolene looked over, silently watching as he took my hand. Too afraid that if she made a comment she would break the spell between her and Sam. I tried not to think too hard about it, grateful that people had finally gotten bored with our presence.

I would have let him take me anywhere. It felt like a sonnet that hadn't been written yet. The way he held my hand so casually, leading me back into the tall grass. All I could do was watch the way his hair moved in the breeze. Dancing against his flexing shoulder blades. His hips moving gracefully as he stepped between the long blades, blanket tucked under his free arm. The afternoon sun was beating down so hard, my cheeks began to burn. Grateful when he finally led me to a shaded area of tree's a little further down the creek where nobody else had bothered to venture.

I watched him as he laid the blanket down, flattening the grass and making sure we were shrouded by it. Inviting me to sit with him, the sound of flowing water and leaves moving in the dull wind as our soundtrack.

"You ever just lay in the grass and look up at the clouds?" He asked, rolling onto his back and placing arms behind his head.

I wrapped the hem of my dress around my knee's, conscious of the breeze as I laid down beside him. Through the canopy of the tree's around us, I could see wisps of cloud moving slowly against the brilliant blue.

"Not since I was a little kid." I replied, trying to remember the last time I'd done anything quite like this.

He was quiet for a brief moment. But it didn't feel like it needed to be filled.

"I hope you didn't get in any trouble yesterday. I don't think anyone saw me talking to you." He said, pulling out a small bottle of something honey coloured out of his pocket. "Sometimes people can't see what's happening right under their noses."

There was a flash of something in his grin as he lifted his head to take a swig, offering me some before dashing it onto the blanket at his side when I declined. I liked the way his side profile looked as I turned my head to look at him. There was something about the way his nose pointed at the tip, the way his mouth had the most enigmatic curl at the corners. It was obvious that he hadn't brushed his hair that day, but it didn't matter. It only served to suit him well.

I started to feel as if I could climb on top of him. The way he laid there, the muscles in his arms flexed as he laid them behind his head. I'd never been close enough to ever drink him in. I tried to commit to memory all the little nuances that were entirely him, knowing that I'd think of him later in more detail than I ever had before. It made me nervous.

"Clever." I surmised, impressed by his critical thinking. "Do you often do things right under people's noses?"

He smirked and turned his head, knocking me off my steady perch and into a panicked mess as his eyes met mine. I didn't dare look away. I didn't want to make the obviousness of my gaze even more obvious. I hoped that he couldn't tell I could hear the great whoosh of my own pulse when he looked at me. But I suspected that he did, letting his eyes fall down the rest of my body before coiling back up.

"Not everything." He damn near whispered, leaning up to rest on his forearm. "Some things I prefer to do where no one else can see."

It was getting hotter. The air felt warm in my lungs as I breathed. Even in the shade, it was sticky and sweltering. My dress was becoming increasingly drenched, beads of sweat pooling between my breasts. He was glistening in the sun light, his neck saturated as sweat ran down the peak of his adam's apple. Both of us tangibly giving in to the impetuous heat.

"Like what?" I asked, reaching for the bottle to quench a dry thirst that was forming in my mouth.

It tasted like fire. Did nothing to alleviate the dryness, only served to almost choke me and make me cough. Much to his delight as he placed a hand to my back and waited until I'd composed myself before offering his arm for me to lay against as I sank back down.

"Wouldn't want your Daddy catching us here, like this. Would you?" He asked, the sweat of his arm sliding against the back of my neck. "Wouldn't want anyone catching us here like this. I like being here, with you, just the two of us."

The weight of what was transpiring between us almost felt too heavy to bear. I could feel it, travelling up and down my body in waves of undulated panic and arousal. He wouldn't stop staring at me. Making it harder for me to deny myself.

"I like it too." I confessed quietly, allowing him to curl his arm up, making me inch closer to his face.

All the hours of wonder couldn't have stood up to the reality of him. The sweet and gentle nature of him coveting me, with nothing more than a simple gaze and the support of his arm beneath me. He made no attempt to touch me further, and I almost felt like begging him would have ruined the moment.

"Don't you get lonely up there sometimes?" He asked, grazing his bottom lip between perfectly set teeth. "I see your face sometimes and I can't stand the way you look so sad."

Oh, he'd noticed. My heart soared and broke all at once. That he had known not only that I existed, but taken the time to notice my mood made me feel as if our lives were not merely shadows.

"Not lonely." I shrugged, settling on a different word. "Perhaps, sometimes, it's a little melancholy."

He wrinkled his nose and thought about it. Reaching for a blade of grass behind him and ripping it from the ground in order to satisfy his need to keep his hands busy.

"If you were mine I'd never want to see anything but a smile on that pretty face of yours forever more." He said, running the blade of grass against my cheek playfully.

I shrank away. The sensation of it too intimate for me to appropriately deal with. I giggled, but my unease was there in the way my eyes couldn't settle back on him.

"I'm sorry." He apologised, throwing down the grass and trying to settle the vibe between us back into something a little more innocent.

But it was too late. I could feel a familiar throb begin to beat away between my thighs. Latent misery in being unable to satisfy my desires kept me tethered to the blanket, unable to confess that I wanted him to do it again.

"Don't be sorry." Was all I could say, a little more passionately than I'd intended. "I'm just...well, I'm no good at this sort of thing."

He seemed to go quiet all over again. Looking down at our bodies side by side. Swallowing so hard I could see his throat flex. Like he, too, was lost in a sea of words he so desperately wanted to say but couldn't.

"You're not like the other girls." He gulped, pointing out one of my deepest flaws. "I don't want you to be like the other girls. They aren't worth the risk like you are."

How could he have known my worth? Beneath that starry eyed exterior, was he just as nervous as I was? It seemed to me that he could scarcely hold himself back as his eyes moved between my lips and my gaze. Flitting up and down as if in conflict.

"All I've ever wanted was to be like the other girls." I sighed, noticing for the first time that he had moved closer. "Other girls get to be taken out on dates and have doors opened for them. And have goodnight kisses."

The subtle shake of his head intimated that none of that mattered.

"Other girls don't write their name for me in notes I can only see from my window." He said earnestly. "Other girls don't drive me crazy every time I see them come out of their front door on a Sunday morning wearing those pretty little dresses."

I felt like I'd fallen asleep and I'd woken in a dream. I could smell the liquor on his breath he lingered so close. The heat of the day dissipating as the heat of his body took over.

"Other girls don't make me write songs for them, before I've ever even spoken to them..." He stopped, right before his lips would trespass against mine.

"You...wrote a song...for me?" I breathed into his mouth, fingertips digging into the blanket folds at either side of my stilled body.

"For a good Christian girl, you sure do make me feel damned." He posed, speaking with his lips a feather light touch away from mine. "Damned to write songs for a girl I can't ever have."

Was it not enough that I dwelled beneath his touch? Whatever madness made him think he could not have me, I wished for such a fallacy to be gone from his mind. If God had put the attraction that was so palpably clear between us within our hearts, why would God punish us for acting upon it?

True. I was a little apprehensive. Not for the punishment of God, but from a Father who truly believed his word and actions stemmed directly from the all seeing eye above. But, like Jake had already so pointedly said, we were here alone. Just the two of us. No other man nor God in sight.

"Have me." I whispered.

I heard him hold in his breath. Already so close to my mouth, all he had to do was let it happen. Nobody was ever free from temptation, and I was sordidly aware of my need to walk directly into it's aching path.

If God truly did exist somewhere between this mortal coil and the thereafter, I believed that he would not blindly lead me to be tempted beyond my ability. That I may be able to endure it. My spirit and my body in unison for the very first time.

"You would hate me if I did." He whispered back, "I'm wicked, Bonnie. So much more wicked than you could ever imagine."

I didn't believe that anyone quite so beautiful as him could ever truly be wicked. Perhaps wicked in the ways that only brought pleasure, if you were so inclined to allow yourself to enter into that sort of thing.

Was I? That sort of person? He was only two years older than me but exuded an experience which far surpassed mine. Even with his boyish charm and child like nature, he was a man nonetheless. A man that held me in his arms on a hot summer day with the wind chiming through the leaves above us and the softness of the ever trickling water as it ran over rock and earth.

Heaven.

"I ache to know wickedness." I pleaded, feeling insanity wash over me as he still refused to kiss me. "It's not for anyone else to decide."

That one sentence brought him to his conclusion. I could see it there as his brow knitted together delicately, his gaze intensifying.

"You don't know what you've done."

Perhaps not. But I didn't have space for regret. Not when he let our worlds collide. At first, there was nothing but the gentle feel of his lips as they brushed against mine. Softly venturing, exploring what depths he could take with me. A solemn pull back as he checked in with me, I could feel his hand against my balmy cheek. Alabaster turning pink as the blood began to pump harder in my veins. I was breathless without even having to move.

When he'd ascertained that I wanted it, he returned to me. Pressing his lips against mine a little harder. Letting his head tilt to the side, our noses pressed flush into each others cheeks.

I don't know what it was that I expected. Certainly not the rush of adrenaline as he opened his mouth. Nor the moisture gathering between my legs that was certainly not due to the weather as I felt the slippery tip of his tongue converge into my mouth. It was soft and slow, only brushing against mine with subtle intimation that he wanted more.

I suspected that this was purposeful. Nobody had watched us as closely as he had and not drawn the conclusion that I had never been kissed before. I suspected that he knew this was my first time. And he treated it as such. Sweeping his thumb against my cheek bone, letting me whimper softly into his mouth as he pulled away only to slake his hand around the back of my neck and pull me up into an embrace that had more meaning behind it.

And then he stopped. Forehead rested against mine, breathless and lips drenched in each other. He didn't let me go, clutched me harder in fact. Made me wonder if patience truly was a virtue.

"I have thought about this moment over and over." He swallowed, kissing me again so briefly I barely had time to reciprocate before he'd pulled away again. "And always, I'm painfully aware of your virginity. I don't want to hurt you, Bonnie."

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was something else. I let my knees unfold, the hem of my dress crawling up my thighs. Immediately I was aware of just how tightly I'd been clenching them, my body immediately softening in his grasp.

"Take it." I offered. "It is yours."

He would have it. Retrieving his senses at the shock of such a thing, he ran a gentle palm down my stomach and his hand came to rest at my waist.

"You're not a good Christian girl at all, are you?" He ventured, kissing me with a little more fervence.

Although the presumption was made based on my willingness to part with my virginity and give it up to him, I knew I'd been a sinner for far longer than I cared to admit. My thoughts had been impure before we moved to Beech Run. The levels of depravity increasing ever since Jake had made his presence known. I wasn't a good Christian girl at all. Not behind closed doors. Not anywhere where thoughts were free.

"I've committed all manner of sins in my mind." I replied honestly, my tongue lilting against my teeth, prepared for another kiss. "Wouldn't you? If you couldn't do anything? Have anything?! Wouldn't you imagine what it felt like?"

"Oh, I would." He replied, licking into my mouth with all the urgency of a man who had been granted his greatest wish. "But I don't want you to imagine anymore. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted."

He laid me back down. Sinfully slow. Taking in the sight of me, hair fanned out on the blanket and my lips swollen. My breasts sitting comfortably beneath a modest neckline, my sun dress being something I would have worn to church. Wondering if he felt the same fear that I did.

"Give it to me, then." There it was, that little beg that had been threatening to spill out of my mouth ever since he'd put the blanket down.

His hand travelled further south. Parting my knees. He ripped another blade of grass and settled it between his thumb and index. Teasing it above my face in the air, making me nuzzle into his chest as I tried to run from it.

But he didn't run it against my cheek. I soon realised it was for a far more nefarious purpose. I dared to peek out from his embrace. A look of total devotion there as he swept the blade up my inner thigh. The almost breath like touch of it reminded me of how it had felt as I'd walked towards him. I held my breath. My dress sat just below where my underwear could be seen, everything else on display. And he unashamedly caressed me, using the blade as his guide.

"Soft little babygirl." He crooned, "It'd be almost cruel to ruin you."

I didn't need his protection from it. The inflection of annoyance at his suggestion that my virginity was something I wanted to keep was hard to hide. My expressions betraying me as I looked up at him.

"Lucky for you, I can be cruel." He added, marking his territory on my heart. "Would you like me to be cruel?"

"If the devil so wishes." I replied, "I fear I'm already ruined by my own intrusive thoughts."

The tip of the blade ran down the fabric which sat between it and my naked flesh. At it's most vulnerable spot.

"You don't have to be virtuous with me. Not anymore." He promised, "I'm not your Daddy."

It was clear invitation to step into my desires.

"Tell me I'm a good girl, Jake." I needed it. "You can be as cruel as you like, just tell me I'm good."

I don't know why I needed to hear it. Maybe there was a part of me that still dwelled in the church where I needed to be holy in order to exist.

His eyes widened at my demand. Staring at me, like I was Jesus on the cross and he had come to worship. He let the blade of grass go. Preferring to run his hand up my thigh instead. I shuddered. Let my lip curl into my teeth. Never taking my eyes off him as he brushed a fingertip against my moist crotch.

"Such a good fucking girl." Partnered with the curse word, his praise left me bound to him. "Does my good little girl want to get fucked?"

The abruptness of his question left me open mouthed. I wasn't shocked because it offended me, I was shocked because the answer was an unequivocable yes. They way he claimed me with that one, solitary use of the word my left me dizzy. Of course I was his. And all I could do was nod my consent.

"You tell me you're innocent and beg to get fucked with the same mouth." He breathed against my lips, hooking a solitary finger around the fabric of my panties, his knuckle brushing against my slit. "That's my extra specially good girl, isn't it?"

He was playing with me. Strumming me like his guitar, like a song written just about me. Pulling down my underwear until they sat at my knees, I was completely at his whim.

"I'm not going to fuck you, though." He said softly, raking those same calloused fingertips that had held my face as he kissed me through the sodden valley of my pussy lips. "Not yet."

I knew it was futile to beg. Not when he so gently and pliantly planed his fingers down the edges of what I could tolerate. He would bring me to the brink and tell me it was what I needed. Dancing with the devil, my sinful thoughts brought to light. I'd never been happier than I was right there on that blanket in the tall grass. In the shade of the grove of tree's that surrounded us, in the hottest summer I'd ever recall.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He said, leaning back into a kiss that was now familiar, his tongue edging into my mouth enough to send a flood onto his fingertips. "You tempt me so..."

"Anything, Jake." I breathed, "Anything you want, just tell me what to do."

He softly ran the pad of his thumb over my aching, swollen clitoris. I moaned, let my eyes close, turned my face away in fear that I would look ridiculous to him. I'd never dared to venture to that part of myself before. Letting the throb ebb and flow whenever I was aroused, never allowing myself a moment to indulge in it.

"Pull my zipper down." He instructed, rutting his hip into my side. "It's kinda uncomfortable down there."

In the furore of him touching me, I'd failed to notice his maddening bulge. I felt foolish and girlish, stupid for not realising he was aroused too. My hand wasted no time in releasing him. Pulling down his zipper and opening the button of his denim shorts. I didn't dare put my hand inside, still feeling a little trepidation of touching him back. But the relief was there as he eyes rolled back, grateful just to be free of the constraints against his hard on.

"I want so badly to sink my fingers inside you and ruin this pretty little pink thing." He murmured against my ear. "Tell me it's ok. Tell me I can feel you from the inside."

I couldn't bear it. The need to be penetrated coupled with the fear of whatever pain might accompany it. But he was too beautiful to deny. The tip of his nose pressed against my cheek, his breath warm and like fire.

"I'm ready." I replied, even if my mind had not been quite up to speed with my body, I still would have let him have his way.

Not simply because of the way he turned me on. But the way he made me feel so cherished whilst doing it.

"Relax for me, sweet girl." He whispered, lips pecking kisses against my temple, hands opening my thighs a little wider. "Just let me take care of you."

The sting of a single digit cast aspersions throughout my body. He was slow in his intention, hissing back a soft moan as he let it slide all the way to his knuckle. I fought against my body's responses to cry out in pain. It hurt. But everything else was a welcome distraction. His voice. His scent. The feel of his body next to mine. All of it.

"Look at you." He praised, railing his kisses back down to my mouth. "The goodest of all girls."

He began to slowly pull it back, savouring the way my mouth opened at the sensation of him sliding it back inside. He didn't attempt to add more fingers, or ruin me the way he'd promised. He simply enjoyed the way I felt. The way I showed him my devotion in simpering moans and errant panting. His middle finger buried deep inside, palm pressed against my wet clit. Completely at his mercy.

"You've bewitched me, Bonnie." He confessed in soft whispers, "With your tight little innocent pussy. And that fucking smile, I can't stay away from you..."

No church girl could ever do witchcraft any justice. But I believed him.

"Then don't" I urged, not knowing what it would mean when the time would come for us to pick up this blanket and leave.

"Never..." He buried his tongue into my mouth, venturing deeper than he had before. "Will you cum for me, pretty little sweet thing?"

I didn't know what he meant. And I wouldn't spoil whatever spell I had managed to weave by asking him. If I were a flower I could feel my petals begin to wilt and fall. How could I tell him that I didn't know what he asked of me? I didn't want him to stop until I was completely deflowered. And whatever it was that he meant by cum, I hoped that I could do it for him.

"Anything...anything you want." I moaned, louder, arching my back to feel his fingertips deeper.

"That's it, oh, you're close..." He said, curling his finger up inside me, in a beckoning motion that almost sent me over the precipice. "You'll know when you get there, my little Ingenué."

His use of another language was unexpected. And his face said it all as I bashfully smiled into another insatiable kiss. He was right, though. I did know when I arrived. There was nothing about it that was anything I could have expected. With no knowledge that such a thing even existed, I was ebbed towards it like I was blind and seeing for the very first time.

At first it was like a muffled song I could hear from another room. The melody was there, I just couldn't pick up the lyrics. All I could see was those beautiful, deep brown eyes of his with the dark circles beneath watching me in wonder as it cascaded over me. The song no longer muffled, the crescendo of a great symphony in my eyes as I finished against his palm. The way he looked so satisfied letting me know that I'd done good.

"Ssssh...sssshhh..." He soothed, "It's ok sweet girl, I promise...it's ok."

I didn't know that there were tears falling down my cheeks until I tasted the salt of them on my lips. The sweet relief of something I hadn't known I'd needed filling me up from the soul upwards. He slipped his finger out and pulled up my panties, making sure that I wasn't hurt.

"I feel so foolish..." I cried, "How could you want me? When I'm like this?"

"It's because of this that I want you." He reassured me, grabbing the length of his aching cock beneath his boxer shorts and adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. "Don't you get it? It turns me on. The thought of nobody before me. That you'd be mine, entirely. And I can promise you here and now, I will protect you no matter the cost."

I couldn't wrap my head around what the cost might be. Only the way he didn't expect me to touch him back in that moment. He started to soften eventually as we laid there together, his hand running gentle strokes through my hair as I calmed. And he tucked himself away, promising that he would save it for another time.

The afternoon was growing late as we packed up and sorrowfully left our quiet little spot. The grass where we had laid all flattened in the perfect shape of where our blanket had been. A sorry reminder that the moment had fleetingly passed. I kept catching his eye as he tucked it underneath his arm, and he reached out to take my hand again.

"What now?" I asked.

"I don't know." He replied, with equal sadness. "But something tells me it'll be worth it."

We walked back in contemplative silence. Content just to be together a few more moments until it would be cruelly snatched from us. I could see that some of the crowds had already begun to disperse as we headed towards the plunge pool. A little less heavy on the noise. I could see Josh and Danny standing by their little group, deep in conversation whilst Ronnie packed up the boom box and cooler. Lewis was idly folding chairs, stacking them up ready to be carried back to the road.

"Where the fuck did you guys go?" Josh asked, watching us approach hand in hand. "Was about to send out a search party. We might have to, if Sam and Jolene don't get back here soon."

I had no concept of the time. I could feel the coolness of late afternoon on my skin, where once it had burned. The sun was still beating down as earnestly as it had been, but it was a little further towards the west.

"Shit, what time is it?" I asked, bile rising in my throat as I began to wonder if Ben was waiting for us up by the gate.

"It's a quarter to six." Josh replied, shaking his wrist as he checked his watch. "Why?"

I let go of Jakes hand. Circling the area for a visual of my missing sister. I couldn't see her anywhere.

"No, no this can't be happening...Ben will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes..." I panicked, visibly shaking as I ran down towards the creek edge.

I called out her name. But there was no reply.

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka

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katerinaptrv · 4 months

Text

I read that some people are saying that Babe was harsh with Charlie in their time together, but he really was not, the thing is that Babe struggles to express his feelings because of all the trauma he's been through. And he loved Charlie so much that scared him.

So, sometimes when he said things to him, he would say in a way to not appear that much emotional. But he said a lot of things in between the lines and Charlie understood him.

When he says in episode 1:

I didn’t say I was letting you get back? Follow me.

He is saying to Charlie that he did not want this between them to end, he wanted to be with him and he keeps saying in different ways in the next episodes.

You have gone all day, I might have to call to invite you to come back (episode 2).

It’s 4321. The password for the door.

He tells him he worries and does not want him to get hurt even when they are fighting:

Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Let’s go to the hospital. (he would have take him here despite his race if Charlie did not convince him otherwise)

And you had a full body x-ray yet? Anything broken?

I haven’t dealt with you yet. How did you think of that? My car accident, that's it, I'm okay. Car has safety. I also have a fire protection suit. But you run down without protection, are you crazy? (do not risk your life for me, what if something had happened, what i will do?)

Babe opens up about his past and Charlie, who is very open with his feelings, gives him a declaration about caring and valuing him in the future. To what Babe responds:

Is that so? Then I will wait and see. If you want to stay here for a long time. Keep trying to make me soft hearted.

He is telling him he is giving him a chance and asking him to not do anything that forces him to wish him away.

We can see the evolution of it to what he says to him after their last fight when he finds out all the true:

I won’t break up with you. But I invite you to pay your life's entire karma. You have to take care of me.

Here he is saying to Charlie he wants to spend the rest of his life with him.

And the most heart breaking one now, when Charlie tells him about his powers and offers to giving back to him by dying he immediately says back:

Don’t joke like this Charlie, don’t think ** pause ** that even if i don’t have any sense left, i’m Pit Babe. Any special abilities are not necessary.

Here he's telling him to not even think about this, i can live without my abilities but not without you. I don’t want them back, not at that price.

So, yes, Babe never said to Charlie he loved him with these exact words, but he said it any way he managed to do at the time. And Charlie understood him, he knows Babe loves him. But Charlie has trauma of his own by being raised hearing he had no value, so he does not value his life and does not know how much Babe values it.

PS: In the first episodes Babe would say somethings that could be considered mean to him to counteract his actions, like, he brings him to the garage em ep 1 (what he never did to anyone before) then says to him to enjoy it now because he could not come back, but watches him and smiles at his excitement every time Charlie is not looking at him. I found this pretty funny, how he contradicts himself all the way in the first episodes, he would say to him you can’t do that or i won’t do that and then he would let him do it or do it himself. Actually thinking of making a post with gifts of these moments.

#pit babe the series #charliebabe #yes i am still hang up on pit babe #can't stop #probably more posts coming

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fictional-love-is-my-life · 11 months

Note

I read your Mirage dad headcannon and I loved it!! Think you could do a one shot or headcannon on how Mirage would act with having a human girlfriend?? 👏🏼👏🏼

I'm glad you liked it! I decided to make this a little oneshot:

Mirage x human!female!reader

Warnings: None

Mirage never imagined one word would have so much power over him. He never expected to say one word in every sentence, resulting in him saying a single word over 50 times a day. Yet here he was.

"Mirage, where have you been?" Arcee asked. Mirage swaggered over to her, a large grin planted on his face.

"I was with my girlfriend!" He beamed. Girlfriend, it really rolled of the tongue. He loved it so much he couldn't stop saying it.

"I see. Have fun?" Arcee smiled. She was glad to see Mirage happy.

"Hell yeah! My girlfriend is the best. She's funny, beautiful, kind and smart. And the cutest human ever." Mirage expressed, his spark humming happily as he spoke of her.

"Well, you didn't miss much. Optimus says things look clear so we don't have patrol tonight."

"Great! Then I get to spend more time with my girlfriend." Mirage was going to take any free time he had to spend with her.

"Yes, you sure can." Arcee laughed.

"Oh, I have to do something. Something special, something she'll really love." Mirage pondered to himself, servo gently placed under his chin in thought. "I need Noah." He transformed and quickly drove off to his other human friend.

Noah sat in his garage, fixing a pet project he was working on. The garage door was open, allowing Mirage to drive in. Without looking Noah pressed a button beside him, the garage door closing behind Mirage. Noah had gotten used to the sound of Mirages engine so he knew it was him. Once the door was closed Mirage transformed.

"Noah, buddy. I need your help." Mirage took a seat on an old couch, making the springs screech and whine under his weight.

"What do you need?" Noah asked. He stopped what he was working on and faced the mech.

"I need to do something special for my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Noah raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah bro, we made it official last night. It was kind of an on the fly asking and accepting, nothing fancy about it. So today I need to do something special for her!" Mirage explained.

"So what do you need me for?"

"Well, I need you to help me make it special. Y'know, get me flowers for her, or jewelry or stuff like that."

"Why me?" Noah laughed.

"I can't exactly walk into a shop and buy it can I?" Mirage pouted. He had thought Noah would be willing to help no questions asked. "C'mon man, help me out."

"Alright, I'll help. What exactly were you thinking, because you know what she likes. And jewelry and stuff doesn't help me."

The two spent an hour planning out a small event. Noah and Mirage then spent the next few hours driving around New York, Noah getting out and going into stores to purchase supplies.

"I hope you plan on paying me back for all this." Noah stated.

"Yeah I'll figure out a way." Mirage complained. He felt like time was running out and he still had to set up. While driving around Mirage radioed his girlfriend. During their dating period he had given her a radio so they could stay in contact. He stole the idea from Kris.

"Hey darling." Mirage cooed over the radio.

"Hey handsome." (Y/N) replied. Her voice filled Mirage with joy.

"I've got a free evening, and I'm setting something up. Can you be free tonight?"

"Tonight yeah, I have nothing planned. Or well, I guess my plan consists of whatever you're planning."

"You're so funny!" Mirage laughed. Noah rolled his eyes. Noah knew Mirage was smitten, but this was something else.

"I'll pick you up later tonight, wear something pretty. Well you are always pretty, but y'know where something really pretty."

"I will." (Y/N) laughed.

With that settled Mirage drove to an abandoned warehouse, the same one he took Noah to the first time they met, and on the third date he took (Y/N) to. Noah and Mirage set everything up, using all the supplies they had gotten throughout the day. Once completed, Mirage took Noah home, then drove to (Y/N)'s place.

He parked outside and honked his horn. A few minutes later she appeared, in a beautiful outfit that made Mirages engine rev. She smiled, a smile that sent shivers through his form. He opened his driver door and allowed her in.

"Ready?" He asked, strapping her in with his seatbelt.

"I am." Mirage drove off, playing a radio station that consisted of mainly love songs. He stated that his radio was broken and he couldn't change it.

"Hey, we are about 5 minutes away. Could you close your eyes?" Mirage asked.

"Sure." (Y/N) responded. She trusted Mirage completely, so she had no problem closing her eyes no questions asked. He drove into the warehouse and stopped then unbuckled the seatbelt.

"Trust me?"

"Absolutely."

Mirage very gently transformed around her. Shifting his body until he was standing and holding her in his servos. He placed her down, keeping a servo behind her back.

"You can open your eyes now." Mirage whispered.

(Y/N) opened her eyes. String lights were hung up around the the middle of the warehouse making a circle of light in the center. In the middle were a few blankets laid upon the floor and a number of pillows placed evenly on the blankets. Candles were also strategically placed a few feet away from the flammable blankets, but they were there to enhance the mood.

"Oh my, this is beautiful!" (Y/N) exclaimed. Her heart pounding in her chest.

"Shall we?" Mirage offered his servo. (Y/N) took it. They made themselves comfy among the cozy pillows. Mirage laid on his side, his helm propped up by one arm, so he could be on a similar level as (Y/N). "Oh, I also got you something."

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"Well I did." Mirage pulled out a small box, gently handing it to (Y/N). She opened it, revealing a necklace, on it was silver heart shaped pendant with a blue heart shaped jewel in the middle of it. (Y/N) gasped in surprise, and awe at its beauty.

"It's gorgeous."

"Turn it over." Turning the pendant over revealed 'Mirage' had been engraved on the back of it.

"Oh I love it so much." (Y/N) leapt up, she grabbed Mirages helm with both hands and plastered a million kisses all over his faceplates. "Thank you!"

Mirage placed his free servo behind her back, pulling her in closer. He caught her lips and the two kissed passionately. The kiss only being broken so (Y/N) could catch her breath.

"You really like it?" Mirage asked.

"I love it. And I love you so much." (Y/N) put the necklace on.

"I love you too. I wanted something special for my girlfriend."

"Well, you did amazing this is really special. I have the best boyfriend ever."

That word rang through his audio receivers like music. Boyfriend, the second best word. And as much as he said the word girlfriend, he also hoped to hear boyfriend just as much.

Bonus headcanons just because I want to:

-Will say girlfriend as much as he can.

-Gets so giddy and excited when his girlfriend is around. He does everything he can to try and impress her or make her laugh. Absolutely loves her laugh so will say so many jokes, even if they are terrible.

-Flirts all the time.

-Shows her off to everyone saying 'this is my girlfriend' even if they already know that.

-Likes PDA and wants to kiss and touch her all the time. He would make out with her in front of the others and not care at all.

-Loves to see her in cute outfits. He loves getting little fashion shows, and likes to help his girlfriend pick out outfits.

-Will carry her around, because it means he gets to hold her close.

-Late night chats. He talks with his girlfriend while she tries to sleep. And he feels so happy if she stays on the radio while she sleeps. He feels like it is a way for them to be together even if they can't be.

#transformers #mirage #tf rotb #rotb mirage #transformers rotb #ask

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capypub · 11 months

Text

Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Scene 14

Mafia!Joel Miller x OFC

Rating: M (little smut, little violence, little gore, all happy endings though)

Summary: Joel takes care of his biggest problem and then starts a new chapter in his life.

AN: Epilogue anyone??

Masterlist

(This gif has nothing to do with the chapter, I just really love his expression lmao)

The door to the garage burst open late the following evening. There was enough yelling and noise to bring Indi out of the living space that Joel had converted into a library of sorts. She recognized the voices, most familiar to her now after living with Joel for this long. Going through the kitchen, she found drops of blood leading from the garage to the basement door. It was slightly ajar and she could faintly hear what sounded like chains rattling and struggling.

Joel had tried to keep her out of the “David job” as much as possible besides his show of power at the Bison. He left that afternoon with promises to be back soon, instructing her not to leave the house. Tommy came up the stairs, startling her as she lingered by the open door. He had a few streaks of grime on him, some blood on his shirt, but seemed to have no injuries of his own.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he greeted her, approaching her like one might approach a skittish animal.

“How, um…how’d it go?”

He shoved his hands in his pocket, closing the door and blocking it with his body. “Good. We got ‘m.”

“Oh…good.”

She didn’t know why she was being so awkward. At the same time, Tommy also seemed to be walking on eggshells with her. He shifted his weight from foot to foot anxiously, watching her closely.

“Is Joel…um,” she nodded towards the door.

He seemed to hesitate. “Uh, yeah, he’s-he’s downstairs.”

A sudden gunshot startled them both. It was followed by a loud cry, a man’s cry. They made eye contact. She glanced at the doorknob, Tommy subtly shaking his head, already seeing the cogs turning in her brain.

“I shou-.”

He grabbed the doorknob with one hand, her outreached wrist in the other. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. You really shouldn’t be down there right now, it’s ‘bout to get real ugly,” he tried to warn her, his eyes pleading that she turn around and go upstairs.

Another cry from downstairs. “Tommy, I have to know,” she tried to insist.

“I don’t think you should see Joel like this,” he said quickly, getting her to pause.

“Like what?” she questioned, but accepted his knowing look with one of her own.

Another scream of anguish.

“I love him, Tommy, whatever’s going on down there is part of him and I can handle it,” she said.

He stared at her for a long minute, slightly flinching at another scream echoing up the stairs. It’s not that she couldn’t handle it, it’s that he didn’t want her to have to handle it. Tommy internally battled with himself. It was the ugliest side to this job, hurting people, and she didn’t need that on her conscience like the rest of them. Ultimately, he let her go and stepped aside with a sigh, knowing he couldn’t control her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, slowly opening the door and making her way downstairs, leaving Tommy to shut it behind her.

The scene at the bottom of the staircase was darker than she could even imagine. Blood was splattered all over the floor. Joel’s main team of men lingering on the edges of the room, hands behind their back as they all stared at the scene in the middle.

“You fuckin’ think I wouldn’t come for you after what you did you piece of shit,” Joel snarled, crouched over David who looked half-alive.

He was tied to a chair, covered in blood and sweat, missing teeth and fingernails, it seemed. It looked like he also had a gunshot wound through his knee. She had to swallow some of the nausea down from the smell alone, heavy iron, metal and piss. Joel looked much calmer than he sounded, jacket discarded on a chair nearby with the sleeves of his shirt bunched up around his elbow.

“Where should we start, huh, David?” he asked, now eerily calm as he dragged a blade across the other man’s bloody face, “Should I skin you ‘live or castrate you first?” he questioned, the other man starting to jerk and grunt in an attempt to get free.

“Boss,” Eric said from across the room, nodding to Indi when Joel looked up.

He must not have heard her coming down the stairs. His expression changed as he stood straight, dropping the knife on the ground as he approached her. He didn’t touch her, hands covered in blood and gunshot residue.

“Go upstairs, baby, I’ll be done soon,” he said, using his much larger body to block the horrific scene.

“I want to stay,” she insisted softly, looking captivated by the smears of blood and the cuts on his face.

“No. Go upstairs.”

“Please,” she said, grabbing his arm, unbothered by the sweat coating his skin, “I need to see you do it,” she added, her voice quivering.

He stared down at her for a long time, conflicted about her request. She always thought he was joking when he’d say he could never deny her, but it was true. If she wanted to burn the world down, he’d light the flame. If she wanted to watch her kidnapper die, who was he to refuse whatever fucked up sort of closure she would eventually call this.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll even give you a front row seat, baby girl,” he added, taking her hand and leading her to the chair where his jacket was lying, allowing her to sit by the table of his tools with the thick coat wrapped around her.

David made a noise from where he was tied, spitting blood onto the ground at Joel’s feet. Joel’s demeanor shifted again when his attention returned to the man who had hurt his love.

“Come to watch the show, gorgeous?” he gurgled around a mouthful of blood, eyes unfocussed as he rolled his head in her direction.

“You don’t fuckin’ look at her,” Joel snapped, yanking the man’s head back by his hair.

And watch the show she did. She sat in silence as Joel did awful things to her captor, breaking bones, pulling more teeth and fingernails, prodding him with various tools, it was terrifying, it was disgusting, it was…thrilling.

She knew she should probably talk to someone about the reaction she was having to her boyfriend absolutely destroying a man in the slowest and most painful ways for her. She shouldn’t be feeling some of the things she was feeling, specifically the pride, the fascination, the lust, but she couldn’t help it.

When it was done and there was barely a dead body left, she took Joel upstairs and ravished him like an animal in the shower, the blood and grime of today’s events dripping down both of them under the hot stream.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” Joel said with a tired smile and a shake of his head after she’d explained her sudden burst of primal desire to him, both utterly spent and sexually satisifed.

“You love it.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he agreed, pulling her close, all soft touches and gentle kisses after they’d washed away the last of their problem.

“You know you’ve ruined any other future man for me, right?” she asked, swinging her legs over to sit on his lap, lightly scratching down his chest. “You’ve set the bar impossibly high, Joel Miller.”

“Ain’t gonna be ‘nother man, sweetheart,” he said, closing his eyes, relaxing from her touch.

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine forever, baby girl,” he growled, his tone laced with just enough possessiveness to have her squirming.

“Sounds like you’re making a proposal,” she joked, rocking back into his lap, addicted to how right it felt to have his half-hard cock rubbing her covered clit.

“That what you want, baby?” he asked, one large hand gripping her hip and guiding her movements, “Want a ring on that finger? Be my little wife?”

She moaned softly at his words, her movements increasing. “Y-yeah.”

He hummed, the rumble vibrating in his chest under her fingertips. “I’ll get you a ring, baby, biggest fuckin’ diamond I can find if that’s what you want,” he grunted, thrusting up suddenly, feeling her nails sink into his abdomen as she tried to maintain balance.

“Fuck, Joel,” she whined.

He turned them over, pinning her to the bed and grinding into her panties, hearing her breathy pleas in his ear. They moved quickly this time, both desperate for a final release. Joel’s thrusts were hard once they discarded their clothes, his grip on her body even rougher as he grunted against her neck.

She was moaning so sweetly in his ear, panting and telling him how good he felt, how good he fucked her. Those words had his eyes rolling into the back of his head, so perfectly sweet and erotic.

“You wanna come, baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?” he asked, one hand on her throat, but not squeezing.

“Y-yes, ah, please, Joel, I’m…so close,” she cried, her body practically vibrating with the tension of her oncoming release.

“Come on then, baby, be my good girl and come all over me,” he growled.

Her fluttering walls triggered his own climax almost immediately after, his release shot across her stomach and thighs. He whispered soft praises as he cleaned his spend off her, leaving soft kisses along her cheek and forehead. He made sure they both drank water before settling down to actually go to sleep this time. She was already passed out by the time he switched his bedside light off, pulling her close as they laid on their sides.

When she woke up the next day, there was a box sitting on her bedside table, small and a dark blue velvet shade. Joel came out from the bathroom, wiping excess shaving cream off his neck with a towel.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he greeted her, sitting on her bedside, taking the box and holding it in his giant hands.

“Joel?” she questioned, “What is that?”

He smiled, rolling the box between his hands before finally opening it. “This is me askin’ you to marry me,” he said, slipping down onto one knee.

“Joel,” she gasped softly, a million questions running through her mind in a matter of ten seconds.

“Be my girl forever, darlin’?” he asked, his stomach in knots as he waited, her expression hard to read past the obvious surprise.

“Yeah…yes, yes, of course,” she said finally, smiling brightly as he stood up with only a faint knee pop before crawling over her.

“Yeah?” he asked, kissing up her neck.

“Yes, Joel!,” she nodded, her hands wandering his back and shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groaned, inhaling her scent, “I love you.”

“I love you too…will you let me show you how much?” she murmured against his mouth, grinning slyly.

“You know I can’t say no to you…”

Epilogue

#joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller x ofc #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #mafia!joel miller #last of us au #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut

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satans-helper · 4 months

Text

Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XI

Read previous parts here or read on Ao3

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~4100

Warnings: juice box Sam; sexy time ;)

Things are, perhaps, starting to get even more interesting. I really like this chapter so I hope you do too <3

---

Sam knew Danny was waiting for him at the house thanks to the prompt text reply he’d sent after Sam alerted him he’d be late; however, he didn’t know Jake was also going to be home. So, when Sam opened the front door, he figured his brother would be upstairs doing something or maybe in the garage playing guitar, and Danny would be biding his time in the living room or chilling in his bedroom. That was stupid, Sam quickly realized, because Jake would never let a guest, and definitely never Danny, linger in the house alone like an unwelcome, strange visitor, and Danny wasn’t so socially inept that he wouldn’t strike up a conversation even if he did struggle with the apparently very alluring Kiszka blood scent.

Muffled laughter from beyond the walls and doorways made Sam move swiftly from the front hall to the kitchen, pausing in front of the sliding glass doors, keeping himself just out of sight. Danny and Jake were sitting at the patio table, one across from the other, a bowl and a little container of weed between them. Sam knew the jealousy was asinine–it would be far more normal to want his boyfriend to get along with and even be friends with his brothers. It was just knowing that Danny experienced a kind of attraction to them that set him off. Sure, it wasn’t a physical or sexual attraction, but it was an attraction all the same. And Sam really didn’t get on with that.

“There he is,” Jake proclaimed when Sam opened the door and stepped through, rubber soles of sneakers he desperately wanted to kick off thumping quietly against the wooden deck.

“You dicks got stoned without me?” Sam asked, slipping over to Danny, standing beside him and draping an arm around his shoulders. “Fucking rude. It’s a betrayal, actually.”

Jake chuckled and instantly reached for the container of weed. “Sit down and we’ll smoke some more. Unless you have to go to dinner right away.”

“Nah,” Danny said, laying his hand over Sam’s wrist, bringing his arm down to hold over his chest. “We can go anytime. And the more we smoke, the better the experience will be.”

Sam stiffened. His intention wasn’t actually to sit down and get high with them and he was asking himself why Danny was so quick to delay their actual plans. To spend even more time with Jake, who did indeed look even more stoned than usual. Danny did too, all hazy-eyed and flushed, a slightly lopsided grin on his face when he looked up at Sam and silently beckoned him to sit beside him. So Sam did, resigning to only himself that they’d power through this bowl and then leave.

If only Danny had just neglected to tell him that he thought the twins smelled good too, Sam thought to himself as he joined in the smoking. That would have made such a difference. But, again, it was so stupid. Unprecedented, useless jealousy.

“So are you both going to be available for our birthday weekend?” Jake asked, looking at Sam first, then Danny.

“I thought you two hadn’t figured it out yet,” Sam said, taking the bowl as Danny passed it to him.

“Not the details–or the specific plans, I suppose,” Jake told him, relaxing in the chair. The evening light was still vibrant but Sam could see the sun just barely beginning to set behind him, the tree-lined edge in their yard creating the beginnings of shadows across the grass. “We want you to be there for whatever it is.”

“I don’t think we have plans,” Danny said, and a little bubble of affection burst in Sam’s chest at how domestic that sounded. “We.” He liked being a “we.” It’d never felt right or worked until Danny was the second half of the equation.

“We’ll be there,” Sam said, flicking the lighter. “For whatever it is. There just better be a lot of substances.”

Jake laughed the same rough yet gentle laugh Sam had memorized. No matter what, he was his–and Josh’s–brother and vice versa. And Danny was his. Nothing was ever going to get in the way of that.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Jake told him. “Hell, you must still have most of your own birthday stash left. Go nuts.”

“That’s just for Danny and me,” Sam replied, reaching across the table to give the bowl back to his brother.

“Oh, so Josh and I are supposed to supply everything for our own birthday?”

Sam nodded; Danny laughed beside him. “Yep. I’m not giving up anymore of my birthday goodies. Danny got those just for me and you and Josh shared plenty at the hotel.”

A chuckle from Jake as he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He took a long hit, exhaled while Sam watched the stream of smoke for a moment before he looked over at Danny; golden, woodland eyes met Sam’s and they both smiled a little at one another, the curve of their lips so slight Sam knew not even Jake would notice.

While Sam’s gaze was off his brother, Jake said, “That’s fine. I bet Danny will be nice to us and bring us really special presents even if you don’t, Sam.”

Before Danny could give an inevitably polite answer, Sam barked, “Don’t count on it.”

Danny had always known he didn’t have an issue keeping a secret. He took pride in that. When he had close friends, he was the trusted confidant in his circle most of the time; same with his sister. He took secrets and the trust around them very seriously. But he wasn’t a very good liar, and keeping this secret between him and Jake felt more like a total lie to Sam rather than harboring a secret. Even while he was high out of his mind, sitting across from Sam while they waited for their falafel and souvlaki plates, Danny’s silence felt like one big lie.

As much as Sam wanted to pry further into what Danny and Jake had talked about, he simply didn’t have the energy after his long day, after getting stoned, after his literal hunger growing and the desire to see his boyfriend that had also grown with each passing hour. If there was anything important, Danny would tell him. He was high enough and definitely hungry enough to truly not worry too much about it now, and he was relieved to consciously acknowledge that. Much of his focus was on trailing their waitress with his eyes to see when she was going to head their way again with their appetizer.

“Hungry,” Sam proclaimed with his fist around a fork, giving it a tap against the table.

Danny's stomach grumbled loudly. “Me too.”

“Oh my god, yes,” Sam said as soon as he spotted their waitress actually coming back with the plate of falafel. He gave another excited tap with his fork as it was set in front of them and they were given more water and assured their entrees would be out shortly.

“Mm. So good,” Danny said with an impolite mouthful that was sort of burning his tongue, but it was so good to be eating anything that he didn’t care.

“So glad you didn’t invite Jake along,” Sam said, his brain apparently foregoing the idea of leaving his brother out of the entire dinner conversation. It just came up, and now that he’d said it, he wasn’t going to try and beat around it. “I was legitimately worried for a minute that you were going to.”

Danny wasn’t surprised; he was familiar with Sam’s jealous and competitive nature and he was aware that he was probably always needing to tread lightly when it came to the twins. Especially Jake. Jake, who had toyed either purposefully or not with showing Sam that he knew something about Danny; Jake, who felt like another side of Danny’s identity with their similarities and that was something Danny knew he could never tell Sam. Not that it really mattered though–Sam was his everything. His entire heart, tangled with his soul, everything he wanted to be and everything he wanted to have.

“Come on,” Danny said with a small smile he hoped would resonate with his stoned yet still prickly and sensitive boyfriend. “Why would I do that? You’re my guy and I wanna go out with just my guy.”

Sam smiled too, eyes casting downward while he sliced into the falafel again. “Okay. Good. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said, dipping the bite into tzatziki. “I’m glad you’re more open to like, hanging out with my brothers and I guess it’s cool that you and Jake are buddies now or whatever.”

Danny waited for the contradiction, but Sam just went on chewing silently. He chuckled and asked, “But?”

“But–” Sam chewed some more, swallowed. “But I don’t want Jake to get too comfortable with you. Especially since I think he knows something, right? That Dracula is a big giveaway.”

“I think he just likes reading, Sam,” Danny said, and the next words out of his mouth weren’t just keeping a secret but an outright lie. “He didn’t say anything to me when we were smoking.”

Sam sat back in his chair, shoulders slumped, thinking. It was very possible that Jake didn’t know a thing. No one actually believed in monsters. And a hickey and being a little standoffish was not enough to out Danny as anything other than sexy and slow to warm up to new people.

Sam groaned and stabbed his fork into another falafel to bring onto his plate. “Yeah, fuck it. I don’t care right now. I just want you all to myself.”

“But I also wanna be friends with Josh and Jake,” Danny reminded him, and when he said it he thought about how long it had been since he’d had real friends. No wonder he was willing to lie to Sam and keep something between just himself and Jake–he was scared that without something interesting, something sort of scandalous and secret, Jake wouldn’t even want to be friends with him. Jake thought he was intriguing because he was a vampire. If that’s all there was, then Danny felt compelled to cling to that.

“Yeah, I know. That’s fine,” Sam insisted. “I want all of you to be friends too. There just need to be boundaries. Like, y’know, if you’re not gonna tell your own family about being a vampire, my brothers, of all people, shouldn’t get to know.”

Danny nodded. “I get that, Sam. It’s totally possible I’ll tell my family someday. It’s just not something that’s easy to bring up.”

Sam chuckled. “Obviously.” With food in his belly and the high still tickling his brain, Sam realized again he didn’t quite care too much right now. All he wanted was to enjoy the rest of their dinner, maybe walk to the little ice cream shop down the street for dessert, then go back to Danny’s place for sloppy kisses and even sloppier blowjobs.

A different kind of guilt wound a string around Danny’s heart, a continuous tug as the evening carried forth that he tried to deal with in his mind. He vowed to himself to not keep this secret from his boyfriend for much longer–the next time he saw Jake, he told himself, he would arrange for all of them, even Josh, to have a conversation. Danny knew it wouldn’t be easy. Sam would be upset that Jake figured it out but even more upset that he and Danny discussed it and Danny withheld that from him–it was too much for him to truly think about while they leaned over the ice cream counter, peering down into each different bucket of each different color and flavor. So Danny ignored the tug and the ache and bought his and Sam’s double-scoop sugar cones, saying the vow one last time before he shoved the feeling aside entirely. At least for one night.

There were times when Danny felt like a normal young guy, not a vampire, not a diseased freak. Like when he couldn’t figure out how to get his raging fears out except physically, except in a normal young guy kind of way–he could freak out alone, go for a long drive and go too fast, or rage on an instrument or with his feet pounding on pavement as he ran–secluded and frustrated, alone and damned, he would work through it. But now he had Sam, and Sam invited all of that need for release with open arms. At least for one night. Hell, many more, Danny reminded himself, because even if he wasn’t the sort of vampire who would live forever, his love for Sam would.

Literally, because Sam was spreading his arms out while Danny spread him out on the floor of his living room. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom or the couch; Danny had enraptured him in a slurry of heated kisses as soon as they got into the apartment, strong hands yanking on Sam’s clothes until they were mostly all off. Danny settled for Sam’s underwear and socks still being on while he kept himself fully clothed for too long, Sam whining and tugging at his shirt and belt until Danny finally relented, mirroring his almost-nakedness.

“I’m surprised you’re hungry again,” Sam said, arching his back against the floor as Danny hovered over him, those hands exploring his bare torso.

“I’m always hungry for you.” It was that, yeah–real hunger–but also more guilt. More anxiety. More terror. Because withholding from Sam was so wrong, Danny recognized, but fulfilling Sam’s physical desires, his own carnal ones, and bringing them together seemed like an easier and perhaps better, at least momentarily, solution than being honest. He laid down on top of Sam and, with his mouth pressed against his chest, asked, “Do you mind?”

Sam purred, tangling his fingers in Danny’s hair, running them down to his shoulders, dragging his blunt nails across the broad upper back. “Fuck no, I don’t mind,” he said, and Danny huffed and nibbled his pec. “I’m all yours, all the time. Eat me up.”

“It’s amazing to me that you get off on it,” Danny noted, grabbing a pillow from the couch to wedge beneath Sam’s hips. He sat down between his legs and Sam spread them wider, fully exposing the neglected erection trapped beneath his underwear and the faded lavender bruise on his right thigh; he touched it lightly with his fingertips and felt Sam twitch.

“I get off on you,” Sam said. No doubt about it–the whole vampire thing and biting and blood had been, of course, totally unexpected and even more unexpected was his own utter lust over all that, but really it was all just Danny that drove him wild.

“Do you think you could come just from me biting you?” Danny asked, more curious than teasing. He saw Sam’s dick twitch at just his words and ran his palm over the length. “Well. Maybe with the help of a hand?”

Sam groaned, closing his eyes, and nodded. “Fuck yeah, I could. Remember last time? I blew my load underneath you when you bit me right here,” he said, tapping the spot against his ribs that was also bruised and still a little sore to the touch.

“Oh, how could I forget?” Danny replied, stretching himself upwards to press a soft kiss to that spot, making Sam sigh softly and cup his face, bringing their lips together. He felt safe, so safe and alive and loved with just Danny. They didn’t need anyone else. Even despite his vampire boyfriend’s warning on Sam’s birthday, Sam knew that he hadn’t actually gone off to feed from anyone else. Not yet, anyway–Sam didn’t doubt Danny still kept it in his head, prepared to spare Sam from more bites and bruises, but he was growing increasingly confident that Danny would relent soon enough. Then Sam would be truly all he ever needed.

“So let’s try it,” Sam said, getting back to business as Danny’s mouth wandered down his neck.

Danny hummed, raining Sam’s throat and chest with a flurry of ticklish kisses as he slid down and parked himself between Sam’s legs again. He glanced up to see Sam’s eyes grow big with excitement when he pulled his underwear down; Sam sat up and pivoted to spare Danny two sharp kicks while he finished the task, leaving himself totally bare. A pointed, slightly aggressive look at Danny’s covered hips made Danny follow suit.

“Now,” Danny began, placing one hand around his own hard cock and using the other to shift one of Sam’s legs to the side, baring the unbitten one for his eager eyes and mouth. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Bite me, drink from me, mark me up,” Sam urged, spitting in his hand and reaching down to fist himself. His eyes focused on Danny’s mouth that turned up slightly in a small smile, a gentle bob of his throat as he inched forward, bringing his lips closer and closer to Sam’s leg. A kiss made Sam begin to stroke himself slowly; a long, lingering lick had him moaning softly and squirming with unwavering impatience. Just as he was about to verbalize his neediness once more, he felt the sharp puncture of teeth into his flesh, the tearing of his skin that Danny’s tongue swiped over as Sam’s own warm blood spilled out into that lovely mouth.

Danny sucked and moaned with his eyes closed, pulling Sam’s body further into himself; he felt Sam’s calf hook over his shoulders while he sucked and opened his eyes, his face so close to Sam’s wrist that was moving up and down, his fist white-knuckled and tight around his dick. When the head peaked out on the downward tug, Danny could see the dribble of shiny precum, almost as titillating as the blood in his mouth. He popped off and licked his lips before he asked, “Are you gonna come?”

“Keep going,” Sam demanded, heart pounding wildly, head swimming, so close. He just needed a few more seconds.

Of course, Danny asked, “Are you sure?”

Sam reached his free hand down as far as he could while he forced his upper body up a bit, fingers landing on the crown of Danny’s head to tug his hair. “Do it, Danny, come on,” he said, begging more than commanding now. With a whimper as Danny’s tongue swiped over one fang, he added, “Please?”

His own head swimming, Danny obliged. He ran his tongue over the weeping bite on Sam’s thigh before he suctioned his mouth to it, looking up through his lashes at Sam jerking himself off dutifully. A few more seconds of Danny slurping from him and Sam did indeed climax, his calf around Danny’s shoulders tightening, locking them together; Danny eased his drinking but kept his lips on Sam’s tender skin, kissing and licking the puncture marks away while Sam spasmed and panted, the release painting his belly.

“Beautiful,” was the one softly spoken word from Danny’s warm, slightly salty lips. He brought his mouth down to Sam’s stomach, licking the cum from his belly and teasing the tip of his tongue up the length of his torso; Sam’s chest was heaving while he licked and kissed there too, then a pair of long arms were wrapping around Danny’s shoulders and pulling him into a real kiss.

“I’m still the best you had?” Sam asked, knowing the answer anyway, between kisses that tasted overwhelmingly of his own bodily fluids. It didn’t matter–in fact, it made arousal stir inside him once again.

Danny pulled back then bopped their foreheads together, nodding. “No question.”

“Good.” Sam dragged his nails down Danny’s shoulders, looking down, and requested, “Sit on my face and let me get you off now.”

Danny snorted quietly, face contorting in surprise. “Seriously?”

“What?” Sam replied, nearly forgetting they were still on the floor of Danny’s living room as he looked at him, eyes moving from Danny’s flushed lips to his golden neck, down to the black hair sprinkled over his chest. Bringing his eyes back up to Danny’s, Sam added, “Just because we’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Danny sat back for a moment, thinking for one second which was one second too long, because quickly Sam resorted to huffing, rolling his eyes and harshly grabbing his side. Danny laughed quietly and slid away just long enough to reposition himself, shuffling up to where Sam’s head was still lying back on the carpet, then swung one leg over. It wasn’t as if he’d never wanted to do this either, it just always seemed too strange in his head–it wasn’t much less strange in real life, he decided as he settled down while Sam’s hands gripped his hips to keep him in place. But then Sam was moaning quietly below, lips and tongue reaching places that Danny didn’t know could be so sensitive on his own body.

He started to stroke himself, pausing to get his palm wet with spit that was still faintly tainted pink with Sam’s blood, while Sam’s fingers dug into his hips and that talented tongue licked and teased. After a minute, Danny couldn’t even really feel his knees pressing into the carpet or his own body weight pressing further down onto Sam as he relaxed; all he could feel while he closed his eyes and stroked himself was the wet, strong friction of his own hand and Sam’s nose pressed against his balls and his tongue gliding with more focused intention.

When Danny licked his lip and tasted the last remaining salty-sweetness of Sam’s blood there, he pumped himself harder and found his thighs trembling around Sam’s head. His body dropped forward, one hand landing on the couch in front of himself to remain steady, and Sam grunted in what Danny surmised was turned on approval; breathing hard, he could see the fresh plum-colored bruise on Sam’s thigh. Sam sucking on his balls sent him into overdrive, writhing and shuddering, panting as he shot his load all over the edge of the couch, quickly surging forward to keep it there and not in his boyfriend’s hair.

“Mmm,” Sam sounded from below, hands sliding back to squeeze Danny’s ass. Overstimulated with another tug against his balls, Danny giggled and hopped off, flopping back to rest against the couch; Sam sat up, spine cracking a bit with the first real movement since they’d landed on the floor, and surveyed the cum drying on the fabric.

Danny followed his eyes. “I know,” he said with a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair that was damp with sweat. “It’s gross. Good thing I don’t have roommates.”

“For lots of reasons,” Sam agreed, tapping his fingers along Danny’s thigh. “Imagine someone walking in on that.”

Danny laughed louder. “Yeah, fuck that.” He looked down at Sam’s long fingers strumming along. “So you–you actually liked that?”

Sam squinted at him. “Duh. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot as hell, Daniel.”

“Just making sure.”

Sam shook his head, chuckling. After what began as a tense evening with Jake intercepting things, he felt so much lighter. “I fucking love everything we do, you weirdo.” He glanced at the mess Danny had made again. “Should we clean this up? It’s a nice couch.”

“Yeah. Yup,” Danny said, stretching his arms over his head before he moved to his feet, bending down to grab his discarded boxers. After he slipped them on, he stepped over to Sam and bent down again to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you, you weirdo.” He really did. He loved Sam so much that he didn’t even understand it–he’d never felt love like it before.

So when, as he made his way into the kitchen to dampen a dish towel, Danny felt that love in his heart shattered by the emotion that was his nemesis–guilt. Guilt dredged back up because he’d thought of Jake again, thought of how he was keeping something from Sam that Danny knew would upset him, and guilt for knowing that riding this wave would only create a rift between the brothers.

But, he thought again as the tap ran, Sam was no longer his only friend. Jake liked him. Jake was fascinated by him. That was enough to quiet Danny’s mind a bit, and he forgot all about everything all over again when Sam came up behind him in the kitchen, wrapping those long arms around his waist.

---

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