#i had to search through my likes endlessly

[brucewaynehater101]

Inspired by the Secret Robin AU by dragonpyre on Tumblr and the genderqueerness Tim has going on with the Jane Doe AU, I've got a Mahou Shoujo Jihen AU for ye! (mangaka, Zero Akabane)

Snippets are occasionally non-chronological/flashback and unreliable narration ahoy lmao

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Okay so the Graysons', unbeknownst to them, have bloodline of ★magic★

A magic newly-orphaned Grayson has to learn all on his own, for the ward hardly entrusts his legal guardian so new to his life

And he wants something all to himself, something nobody can take away or order him about

Waltz's World he calls it, warping the lines between boy and girl, barriers receding

Aka Grayson can don a Magical Girl form that essentially trans his gender while she's formed, at least at the start

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Obligatory "Anon is cis and playing with gender through Batkids like dolls, her highest apologies for any fuck ups" Disclaimer

And also tw for small moments of misgendering by characters who have yet to be informed on batkids genders & pronouns

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

When Robin hits the streets, all Batman knows is that she is a child, one he brings under his mentorship and despite all his efforts, is impossible to find the civilian identity of

When she confesses to how new her magic is to her, that she's self taught in it all, he and his colleague find dead end after dead end to see if anybody else knows about her type of magic

If there exists others like her they're niche and hidden

Thus trial and error and the scientific method is their only way to help Robin come into her own

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Robin is tactical; hammered in by Batman, by Bruce, his guardian and her mentor

If Zucco dies, and it's so obviously linked to her, it could implicate Robin or both of her identities

She has to be smart about this

Murder had no place in Batman's care for her. Dick has to be careful about his search history on computers and what people catch him reading

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Bruce Wayne worries endlessly over Robin, now a teenage girl

Others too; nobody knows her identity

Dick is a blend of interested and not in the vigilante, opinions ever shifting. They both chalk it up to not knowing the young girl at all

Still, he dreams of a time he does have Robin under his complete care, newly adopted like Grayson, safe from crime fighting

When the news comes out that the killer of Dick's parents are dead, a weight is off his boy's shoulders.

"I have to say thank you to whoever did it." "It looks like it might've been an accident more than anything according to the cops."

Robin has been tense for a time, and still is

"Something happened in my civilian life, nothing major but I'm just waiting for the effects to pass by."

His poor girl . . . "I'm here for you Robin, no matter what happens."

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

The air and earth makes way for Robin's acrobatics, lights turns to her direction, and she's too nimble to be human

Too high, too far, too quick, too lasting are her movements

A cameraboy will never confess that whereas Dick shined with his quadruple somersault, Robin revealed it childsplay

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Jason is adopted right after trying to rob Bruce Wayne's car

In time Dick and he get along like a house on fire—

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

It's Jason who discovers Robin sneaking into the Manor, into his brother's room on the day he snuck into his closet for a prank of all things

It's Jason who sees Dick take Robin's place and screams

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

—And then it's like they've reached an understanding friendships with nobody else will ever challenge

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Little Wing hits the streets, partner of Robin

And he's as human as Bruce

"Listen, listen, he's just like me! Powers or not he's going to fight for Gotham, best we can do is prepare the bird!"

So Batman trains the vigilante Jason's age just as he did for Robin. He doesn't try to find his identity

The young duo only trusts each other with the truth

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Robin set ship for that off-world mission on the promise that Batman would protect Little Wing with his life

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"I'm gonna be visiting some friends dad, and I'm gonna be off grid during our stay so . . ."

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

there's A Death in the Family alright

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Bruce's eyes tore into Robin's, her face vomit and tear and snot stained

"Why did you never tell me who he was?"

Dick could only mouth "B— hiccup B—" He retched again

He looked away from the girl

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"I have a boy your exact age Robin, I think you could be twins, identical ones even, without sharing any blood."

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Grayson is the saving grace that keeps Batman from losing himself to grief

Bruce sits on his couch, looks down at the despondent boy's head in his lap. eyes hollowed out. hears neither of his boys laughter

He sees Robin's grief polluted face on his boy, and remembers not just what, but who he's fighting for

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"I never want to see you on the field again Robin. Not after how you've broken my trust"

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Batman does everything to find who Jason trusted more than his own father, who could have trusted his boy just as much, who was the Robin that dragged his youngest into the night

Not once does he think to ask his eldest what he knew

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Precious Robin photos are locked away where only he and Jason know

Because Robin is magic

Robin is useless

She has no place upon Little Jason's altars

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Cross-reference reliable articles and testimonies, and even a boy will learn that Batman is just barely putting in the work to not transform his justice into a suicide mission

Cross-references testimonies, and even a boy will learn that Nightwing puts nothing into holding back against Joker or Harley anymore. Dead or alive, she wants them gone

Even a boy will learn that Nightwing hardly patrols anymore

Everybody knows Batman and Nightwing ties back to Little Wing

Nobody knows where Batgirl went

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Not bullets nor fallen buildings, but grief losing three all in a fell swoop grounds Robin

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Distinguishing themselves from the rest of Gotham's upper class, the Drakes adorn their manor with artifacts of all over

Tim has too much time on his hands to not poke and prod at them all

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Once upon a time Timothy Drake threw away a wish to be treasured more than artifacts, to be loved and adored far beyond relics resilience, to last even longer than objects to get it all

Still he wishes for Little Wing and Robin back, for Bat Girl's return and the quartet of heroes he stalked night after night as they once were

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

She It puts its hands off of the mirror and peeled off its mask

The Drake couple's son sat there again

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

It's not a monkey's paw — it's close enough

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Tim's plan was to blackmail Batman, pick out its name, and leash the Dark Knight until he was mentally fit again

What it didn't plan for was for Nightwing to apparently know about its magic and track it down

It didn't think it would take this long to pick a name either. Heck it thought Nightwing and Batman cut contact

"Last time I trusted you with a child he died B!"

"I know better now, and unlike you I have the resources to train him to his fullest potential. Little Wing is proof!"

"How fucking dare you?!"

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Nightwing looks down at Timothy Drake, tears in her eyes

Dick Grayson-Wayne tastes salt on his tongue

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Between the fact Batkid would be forced to reveal his identity to Batman and statistics showing his increasing violence, how quick he was to put his hand on Robin's throat, versus to Nightwing, the first Robin, his answers is always the same

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Everybody agrees that the Second Robin looks delicate and precious. The birdie shouldn't be giving up their childhood for Gotham

That is all

Anybody can tell you what good the bird does, leashing the Bat, breaking Nightwing out of her grief, giving whatever the little child can for civilians in need, sinners or not

People can hardly agree on how Robin looks; she looks like my dead daughter, no he's a clone of my son! You idiots they look like those sweet kids I always babysit

All they agree on is that Robin looks as if they must be protected and treasured by their loved ones, not fighting crime

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Where Nightwing can hardly be touched, Robin recovers too quickly, even by its predecessor's standards

All but rarely, bullets, crushing weights, and strikes may all well be nonexistent the way Robin hardly scratches

Unless one has a meta's intense strength, they will find more progress attacking it's mind or delaying its goals

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Nightwing blows a fuse Robin hadn't even known existed when she catches wind of all the work its putting into bringing Batman back to the ideal hero he used to be

She doesn't let it overhear the fight this time

From then on she is always with Robin when it patrols

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Tim huffed as Dick clung to him and Bruce got to arranging himself as his guardian for whenever his parents were out Gotham

Apparently his magic was a filthy traitor! and made a link with Nightwing so that if he was ever in major danger, the heroine who pick up on it

Not only that, but it's been working as a tracker for Nightwing this entire time, the first time around wasn't just an ordinary magic thing like they thought

And they both found while Robin was calming down Batman

But why was Batman insisting on becoming his not-parent if he didn't have a link with him? Nor know about his double life?

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Batman and Nightwing are certain they know what Robin looks like. A perfect blend between Batgirl, the first Robin, and Little Wing, their greatest failures all in one

It's when they disagree on the more precise details of Robin's costume and it's features do they realize it wasn't civilians and rogues being tricked by the darkness 

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

It looked into the mirror in its room in the Wayne Manor

Scrutinizing it's reflection, it looked the same as always, a perfect blend between Batgirl, the first Robin, Little Wing, and Nightwing

Androgynous if leaning on the feminine side 

That ideal the Batclan perfectly displayed at its brightest, a living, breathing altar of their glory

It's teammates agreed with it, until last night it seemed

It didn't understand

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Jason Robin comes back magic

Talia's son and daughter tells her otherwise

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"Great work Robin," Oracle praised, tucking in some of its loose locks as it turned from its computer to her

The younger hero beamed

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Well then, if neither of them can be Robin yet . . . 

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

It's funny how Nightwing learns she isn't the only one with Waltz in her bloodline. At least, she thinks they both got it from genetics. It was alway an assumption on her part

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Spoiler becomes the reason criminals and rogues alike flail about uselessly, making long reaching swings whenever. Nobody spots him until it's too late, if at all

Invisibility his beloved 💜💟💜

Even better are the freebies that come before he fights anybody. Little spoilers that make taking his dad's and other villains men down less of a trial

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Red Hood's violence is distinctive even in Gotham

Yet blowing an entire warehouse to cripple the Joker for good seemed extreme

Then again, it was Joker, extreme measures called

When word spreads of a Little Robin Hood under her care? It explains enough for those without intention to stick their dick in crazy

And thank the Waltz, because the two will never confess it, but it was a trauma-triggered accident

All because the dollar store clown was pissy over names

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"Dad—!" Bruce's hand ruffled his hair again as the other arm wrapped itself around Tim

Yeah Tim wasn't ever coming out about being Robin if Batman fussed over the two identities this much already. It was a wonder Dick somehow outdid him. He giggled

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

'Big W for Gotham queers' a merry goon tweets on duty, not that she'll confess it over her dead body

'What happened?' another twitter user comments

'Red Hood uses she/they, said so themself'

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Bruce couldn't have been faster in adopting Stephanie after Spoiler spilled Cluemaster's identity

"Holy, your dad is suffocating. I'm not complaining but how do you get anything done when he's bear hugging you?"

Tim sipped his coffee, "That's sort of our fault for dangling two too many kids he can't adopt and treasure in front of him for years on end. Follow me." She quirked an eyebrow

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Every blow Red Hood lays screams how that bomb did

Their strikes keep her targets down, and the impacts of her attacks have a larger area of effect than they should

There is no keeping them down

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"Our dad is Batman?" Stephanie ran around the room

"Not just that, you're brothers—" It watched its sister turn to it and she squinted.

"Are queers," it choked on its coffee with her comment

"Me too Robin!" Spoiler said, running up to it to bearhug it in his own way

"Let me go!"

"Nope! You look way too adorable like this!"

"You guys are the worst!"

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Little Robin Hood is the most elusive of them all, no doubt hiding herself from his mother when out at night

The greatest of Batman's heirs he strives to be; She doesn't rest until she is the pinnacle of Human, the pinnacle of a Waltz

he doesn't rest until he's picked up his predecessors own unique magics set as a prodigy would, even as the learning curve fights against her mastery of it

She won't rest even after becoming better than his siblings

He must surpass them so much they could never hope to outdo their superior sibling

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"Yo," Stephanie said, as if it wouldn't make Tim shriek and leap from his couch

"How did you get here?" He made sure this safehouse was the most secure and secretive of them all, how?

"Stalker tracker." She grinned

Her too?! Tim sat back on his couch and screamed into his pillows. His sister laughed

"Want a spoiler on my dad's next puzzle?"

"Give it," wait shit the magic word, "please Steph."

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Cassandra fisted and unfisted her(?) hand

It was more of a man's now. Except she didn't feel like a man, she felt like— scratch that, she didn't feel like a girl either in this form

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Robin gasped as its legs carried more broken bones and injuries than it ever had on its body all at once before

This time the wounds weren't sliding off like water but clinging onto it

"Hood—" a blow to its stomach

"Replacement," the woman hissed at it, then screamed

Robin shifted to its side, resisting the urge to cry out in pain, Nightwing now sat on Red Hood, laying blow after blow on the intruder

And she was yelling herself hoarse

Its sister unlatched and threw the helmet—okay bomb, wow its ears were ringing—off

And then Nightwing was on top of a man

"Little Wing!" its sister shrieks, arms wrapped around the stranger. "Why— why— how?"

"Baby on board! Baby on board! Ack!" Spoiler screamed holding up who might be Little Robin Hood trying and failing to escape his hold. both of them were covered in blood and blows

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Nightwing sat them all down, "Here's what's happening, we're going to keep this to ourselves. I've lost all trust in Bruce with any of your well beings."

"We're going to make it look like Red Hood fought Robin and then fought me as I bought time for my mentee's escape. When Spoiler comes into the scene fighting Little Robin, Red Hood is going to retreat for his sake.

"Robin, you're going to scrub and altar the data in the towers to make this believable; Spoiler, you'll alter or remove any evidence showcasing otherwise; and you two."

Red Hood's grip tightened on her knees.

Nightwing passed a piece of paper, "You're staying in contact with us, I refuse to lose my family again."

A weary smile, "And we'd love to get to know our new sibling."

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

A ballerina becomes Gotham's latest sensation

It's a wonder he— "Gender neutral, they/them" They didn't get hired to perform at Brucie's galas sooner

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Robin blocked Little Robin Hood's katana with its staff. the latter swung at its legs. it latched its hands onto her arm in retaliation and knocked his blade from his hands

Pinned to the ground, the boy could only try and reach for her fallen weapon as the staff was planted right next to her head—

"That's enough training for the day," Red Hood cut them off, "and your final scores are . . . "

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"Big bro, big bro, big bro!" Stephanie dragged a girl right to Dick

"Guess what," her grin couldn't get any wider

"You kidnapped a staff member?" her grin got wider

"I kidnapped a sibling" she pointed at the girl, or rather, the ballerina their father hired for the gala

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

He took his face mask off at the worst time

"Jaylad," Bruce's grip all but clawed at Jason's arms

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

When Jason declared they wouldn't reunite with his father, period, Damian was incensed

Now he may just give anything to go back before they did. But since he can't do that, the next best thing is uppercutting Todd for getting them adopted

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

"No more heroism Jaylad—no more Robin—no Little Wing," Bruce said between sobs

Oh he's not a hero anymore alright

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

When Batman found Robin sore all over, more wounded than he'd ever seen, his heart fell

Robin admitting it already healed from most of its injuries by the time he found it flew him into a rage

He threw himself into detaining Red Hood, trying to sieze Little Robin Hood from him, and upping security so his kids, civilian or vigilante, wouldn't suffer like this again 

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Assassin, Talia, the League had trained a boy, a child to be an assassin. They did the same with Jason

Bruce refuses to let his children—vigilante or civilian—suffer again

Thankfully, with how the chaos of legally reviving Jason, and adopting three children in one fell swoop has cooled down, it seems maintaining a healthy relationship with his civillian family is all it will take to keep them from the streets

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Duke stumbled to his feet, and rushed to a window

They blinked and rubbed her eyes several times over, but its reflection never agreed with what they looked like

Actually, looking down at her hands, it felt and looked more like she was constantly shapeshifting; even his clothes, or hero costume, as was the theme but it never felt uncomfortable keep changing form

This was their meta power? He almost wanted to call out how lame it was but she had to maintain a secret identity somehow

Hold on, she—?

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Don't get Duke wrong, he was endlessly grateful for Bruce

But if Bruce was as good and smothering of a parent like his siblings said, We Are Robin would be down a leader

Everybody had noticed just how much Batman was gunning for Red Hood. Nobody knew why; was it a consequence of her killing his nemesis Joker? Because they stole the name of Little Wing's killer?

Whatever it was, the streets felt less safe when people could gamble on the Bat's activity in accordance to Hood's and be less fearful of the hero, and somebody had to do something about it

Even if it was an army of powerless youth, led by a meta

Duke prayed to every confirmed deity that Bruce never caught him sneaking out

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Dick stood in front of Duke. Duke who was in their Robin costume, oh shit, this was the worst time to not have enough light to flashbang somebody, he noted down to always a source of light or some absorbed for now on

Her brother clasped his hands and smiled, "well then Robin"

Duke's breath hitched—this was the end of everything it worked for

Nightwing, the original Robin took Dick's place, "welcome to the family" 

WHAT THE FUCK?!

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

We Are Robin's leader becomes Signal

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

Damn did I run out of steam at the end

"But nonnie, why is Waltz's world accessible through so many different means?" Idk XDDDDD

Everything I touch becomes a fic I have an actual problem lmao

Extra Notes and Clarifications, apologies for the mess, I'm jumping from section to section as I write and copy and paste

Batman and Bruce have a clearer line dividing the two than canon since only Barbara and Alfred (and others I may not know/forgot from canon) are in his inner circle and aware of his double life—to his knowledge

Speaking of Barbara and Alfred, I haven't done them any justice, nor given them much attention

How the batkids having Waltz's World affects them by consequence alongside other AU elements, I did not account for, well I did so for Barbara but hardly at all

I just implied that Oracle and Waltz!Tim have a relationship, and it goes without saying Barbara and Alfred has different relationships with the Wayne kids than Oracle and Agent A do the Batkids

Back to Bruce---

Knowing multiple kids, most of them feminine in gender identity and/or appearance, fighting crime with only him as a well-off adult figure in their lives makes him concerned

Partly because he doesn't know how they are doing out of costume or what trauma they've covered up with the faster magical healing of their bodies

And also partly sexism since he'll have biases subconsciously at the very least

Honestly an entire fic made of this AU could have a focus/subplot tackling sexism, queerphobia, and other biases, how they intersect, + exploring internalized biases on the Batsiblings part

Bruce wants to have his mentees safe under his roof, siblings with his own kids, and full-time civilians for their own wellbeing

This pushed him to adopt Dick and everyone else unlike/quicker than canon from a subconscious want to make that dream a reality even back when it was just the first Robin around

Bruce abusing his vigilante kids as he does in canon, plus more if you want him to abuse them more than canon, is arguably even more fucked than in canon

Because I imagine compared to canon, here he would be investing even more into his relationships for his kids on the civilian and vigilante side due to guilt from hiding half himself

He expresses his love for them both even more, which will fuck with said kids coming to terms with their abuse. It's even more of an uphill battle

"Wow, look at that plothole-topia!" I say sipping my abuelita knowing damn well who architected it (me)

I never established how Dick learned Bruce = Batman or if he knew at all RIP

Hey maybe Dick and Jason never learns that Batman = Bruce until Tim comes and spills the tea. That could be fun

At first I was gonna have everyone's Waltz form be the "opposite" gender to theirs but then I got to Tim, thought about how I set him up to wanna be loved just like the Drake's did things over their son

I thought about how back when he was just taking photos, he had an idealized picture (pun intended) of the Bats, an idealized image. a concept; a thing

And how that could lead to his own Waltz form being one that used it/its like people do for things

So then I got experimental with it

Methinks Tim would be agender &/or gendervoid in Waltz

Dick eventually settles on the fact he's genderfluid, and later on occasionally using she/her as Grayson and he/him as Robin/Nightwing

Lets say it's cuz he always wanted to be like both is parents that his Waltz makes him so

He views the change in gender identity and pronouns as him tossing a coin; whenever he flips the coin to the Nightwing side, she sees herself female, when flipped to Dick's side, he's male

Rarely the coin tossing itself without his input and lands on the thin side; that's when Dick identifies as the gender she does in her other identity

Jason accepts that he falls under solidly cis since even they/them is dysphoric for him; he once experimented with they/she cuz he wanted to be like his older brother-sister

Then the lazarus pit happen, she winds up using they/she in Waltz form and he/him as Jason

Views himself as a cis as Jason; a demigirl as Red Hood. Maybe she's still figuring things out? idk

Since he had the Waltz World magic just like their sister who was Nightwing now, she could be Robin now!

Then she learned about Damian and Tim calling dibs before her and that made them and Dami fight

Damian and Jason call truce on the grounds of Tim being a common enemy and obstacle in being Robin, so Damian goes to Gotham with Jason

Damian was dunked in the same pit as Jason here, hence why he also got a Waltz form

for plot convenience, they are the exception and not the rule when it comes to lazarus waters and Waltz's World

He wanted to inherit the Robin or Little Wing mantle as Bruce's heir, and fantasized about donning both, thus his Waltz form is bigender, she/he, boy and girl; maybe Damian decides he's also she/he and boy and girl as a civilian as well

Damian's Waltz form is the perfect balance between first Robin's and Little Wing's fem and masc gender presentations, so when you know what to look for it's obvious she's bigender, boy and girl

I made Steph and Cass have Waltz in their bloodlines just as Richard does because I couldn't come up with creative ways for them to join Waltz's World like the boys, lo siento :(

But you can do fun stuff with three non-blood related people sharing the same magic in their genetic history

For Steph I decided to make her intergender, mostly female as Steph, mostly male as Spoiler, but uses he/him as Steph and She/her as spoiler more often than Dick

Steph views her gender as a seesaw; being Steph the saw in pointed towards she/her, and being Spoiler points it in he/him, but sometimes the saw does the exact opposite and sometimes the saw tips a bit less than his form's typical gender so she feels a bit more like a boy or a girl when in civillian or Waltz

She thinks she will reach a point where the saw begins to perfectly balance itself or get close enough that she feels more like using they/them instead but she doesn't know if her guess is accurate yet

Cassandra I think would flip flop trying to figure out if they're Gendernuetral or Genderless in Waltz form, maybe eventually deciding that using Orphan and other (nick)names is preferable to pronouns and discards pronouns

An idea I had for Damian, where he used the pronouns and gender identities of all the other batkids, got given to Duke instead

Since Duke is basically the motherfucking moon with how he absorbs light and We Are Robin is all about taking on Robin's name and duties, I tweaked his own Meta abilities to copy and paste their all the batkids Waltz schtick and genders since that's bascially his desire at the moment

Also his meta power converted itself into Waltz Magic 100%, no refunds, so that's gonna be a fun surprise when he claims to just be a Meta copying their magic and he's proven wrong, he's magic too

But an AU of this AU where his meta abilities truly are just duplicating the magic would be fun to check-out

Oh yeah, idk shit about the time periods the batkids grew up in or what it'd be like be growing up coming to terms with being queer even in modern day so I'm useless on that part

But let's just say that;

Dick grew up traveling plenty and was introduced to queer identity at a young age, so while awakening his power freak her out a bit, she takes it in stride

Jason has a more rigid understanding due to a lack of education on the streets, but after learning about Robin, Dick teaches him what he knows about queerness

Tim grew up as a rich kid taught cisnormativity by both his parents and others he grew up around

As a result he expects himself to be a man through and through. It's a bit of a learning curve on his part

+ in Waltz form it thinks its a she because it looks feminine, only to unconsciously correct itself while freaking out after transforming for the first time

For all Tim knows, his stalking did not lead him to learn about Robin's magic including ✨gender✨

So when the artifact grants his wishes, concious and subconcious?

Tim is confused about the Waltz stuff, hence why it defaults to its/it and doesn't try to force itself to use she/her pronouns, cuz its still figuring stuff out and more focussed on the Bats than gender identity

Then comes in Dick to teach Tim about queerness as he once did for Jason

I dunno jack shit about the cultures Damian grew up in under the league so I dunno how Damian would take the whole Waltz thing at first

I think Jason would fill in some gaps in the case Damian has more to learn about bening genderqueer; maybe the League and Dami even teach Jason their own understandings of gender

No clue how Steph or Cassandra or Duke would take the Waltz thing before joining the bat siblings

I should get into clarifying the magic

Dick's magic is all about acrobatics and enhancing her body in ways that ascends her ability to preform them

Tim's is all about being wanted; being the perfect image of what kind of person those seeing it want to protect and treasure above all else. It's outfit and features craft an illusion different to everybody else's eyes

Tim's Waltz form is to itself, an idealized all-in-one combo of the vigilantes it worshipped and followed on the streets

Continuing the "Treasure me" theme, Tim also makes Links with other Waltz's World people it trusts that alert them when it's in serious danger and allows them to track it down whenever

Plus it works when in its Waltz and civillian identities 24/7

and he can't control them, much to his annoyance, a wee bit of karma for his own stalking tendencies

Additionally Tim's wanted to last the elements and foes like ancient artifacts did, so it becomes a tank in the face of hurt

Stephanie can turn invisible whenever he wants alongside what he has in hand and whoever he touches; plus he get one trailormade spoiler per enemies to give him an advantage

Maybe in time the number of spoilers he can get per enemy increases, and

Jason is also a tank that can't be kept down and every assault they lay have way more power to them than other humans could hope to do

Damian has the power to copy the magic of other Waltz users, the problem lies in that it get exponentially harder the better he gets at their magic

Because again, she's trying to take in magic not not made for her, and as the family grows, he's run himself thin trying to master multiple magics fighting against it all at once

That could be an interesting conflict

Once he does master a copied magic, he's good to go, it comes to him as easily as if it were his own magic

On top of that is the much more natural body enchanting magic that make her a perfect assassin

Cassandra's magic lets them learn at a rapid pace. She had to as an assassin. Through it, they learn how to speak, cultural norms and other nessecery life skills

It also enhancing their ballerina skillset, launching their fame

Outside of Duke duplicating all his siblings gender identities, her magic is just like their canon meta abilities; it's just Waltz magic instead of meta abilities

Oh yeah, Duke also shapeshifts endlessly in Waltz form without pause, to look like one batsibling to the next, the most consistent part of her form is their Signal costume which still alters in appearance all the time

Other stuff I didn't adress oh frick

How does those a part of Waltz's World keeping it a secret too themselves affect the batkids relationship with everyody else?

How does the Waltz World stuff affect everybodies relationships period?

What affect does knowing Jason was an is formerly Little Wing have on Bruce, Alfred and Barbara throughout the storyline? On their relationship with eachother

Since Batman and Oracle are two of the few wholly human heroes in this AU unlike canon, Little Wing's death probably cause a huge reaction in the super community cuz one of the very rare human heroes fucking died

On top of that, back when it was only Robin and no one else, Batman and co. tried to find others with the same magic as the sidekick, only to come out emptyhanded; Is anything ever done with any knowledge acquired during the failed investigation?

Because Robin likely told Batman what little he knew about Waltz's World at the time, alongside other investigators when they tried to learn more or find other like Robin. That data is saved somewhere

After Jason's death, Nightwing distanced himself from Batman and went back to self-teaching, so Batman would no longer have Dick as a resource to learn about Waltz's World; he, Barbara and Alfred would have to piece together clues by themselves

And I think they'd have to learn all on their own Nightwing's inner circle so-to-speak are also part of Waltz's World

Batman is pulling his hair out because where are these Waltz users coming from all of the sudden? Where were they when he was looking for them?

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if that became the name of the squad since as far as they know, only they have this very magic; Waltz's World

How does Waltz magic interest with sciences or other magics or divinity, etc etc?

oh yeah another thing, Waltz's World in Mahou Shoujo Jihen canonically ceases the aging process, but let's tweak it and say that Waltz's World pauses a person's age at the moment their body reaches their physical peak, meaning the batkids will eventually discover themselves unaging, unlike their father and countless other people dear to them

Forgive me if I'm wrong I've got a poor memory

Also I dunno much about the actual Waltz dance, but a quick google search (ruh, roh, that cooked engine) says it used to have strict roles for men and woman

That's what Waltz's World is named after in the manga, it grants men a woman's body and vice versa, the two genders needed for the dance

But in modern day, where societal constructs of gender are being demolished and rebuilt in front of countless eyes (not to say that it never was before modern times, its just way more accessible to witness with the internet) the way people view and preform the Waltz would and has changed as well

This is all to say I thought I threw the Waltz symbolism from the manga into the bin when I decided "lets experiment with MORE genders!" only to realize it never went anywhere at all

By the Waltz, now my brain is cooked

My final idea unless I realize I wanna send another ask with ideas I only came up with after pressing [Ask] is that the Waltz dance itself could be used in a fic of this AU as a motif; so imagine a hypothetical fic with me---

Every batkid and batkid duo and three-or-more batkids all preform the Waltz multiple times throughout the fic

As their own understanding of their gender identities grow and change, the way they preform the Waltz drifts away more and more from how couples did the Waltz long ago, and they add their own personal flairs to the Waltz dances. the way they preform the Waltz becomes more and more their way instead of the tradtional way

It reaches a point where once they can confidentally answer "Who am I?" the can dance their Waltzes to the fullest of their ability and euphoria as a metaphor for the very gender euphoria they feel all together at the moment; maybe they even swap between civillian and magical forms during their dance

Hell maybe the non-existant fic ends with a scene of the batkids preforming that very Waltz preformance I described

I think I'm out of ideas at last

Go crazy, go stupid with this AU people, play with it however you wanna

I can't even begin to describe how ecstatic I was reading this. A gender queer batfam fic rules, but to add on it/its pronouns? Fuck. Gods, I'm so happy with that.

Alright! So, I have no idea about the Waltz World source material, but I'm chill with that. I like the concept as it's described.

Because gender is a social construct, it is completely okay to have different gender identities/pronouns depending on the social environment (or, like this AU, the vigilante and civilian personas having various gender preferences).

So, let's create a list to make the pronouns clear:

Dick: he/him (sometimes her), Nightwing: she/her (sometimes he)

Jason: he/him, Red Hood: she/they

Tim: he/him, Robin: it/its

Steph: she/her (sometimes he), Spoiler: he/him (sometimes her)

Damian: she/him, Robin Hood: he/her

Cass: no pronouns

Duke: all pronouns (does this include neopronouns?), Signal: all pronouns

Bruce: he/him, Batman: he/him

Barbara: she/they, Oracle: she/they

Alfred: he/him

I like the idea of no pronouns for Cass since Cass was taught language later in life and thus doesn't associate Cass or Orphan with pronouns. I also gave Barbara she/they pronouns because being gender queer is not exclusive to Waltz World. That magic affects one's gender expression (and also affects how the individual may perceive their gender identity in different forms).

Alfred is definitely in the background, ironing out a plethora of pride flags based on whatever he figures out about others' current thoughts on their LGBT labels (he's discrete to those who haven't come out or told others yet). He also makes rainbow cookies, multicolored drinks, and displays photos around the house with subtle pride flags incorpated in their colors (like those sunset LGBT photos). The pride flag photos are as many as Alfred can find, regardless if any of the flags relate to one of the family members. It's the dealer's choice on whether Bruce knows the specifics or if he knows, from Alfred's actions, that at least one of his kids is queer.

Might I add that I love that you addressed that Bruce probably has some subconscious sexism that affects him attitude.

As far as queerphobia and all the discussions they can have about that, there is so much to interact with there. For instance, their socioeconomic background would affect their queerness (as far as how they are treated within the community, by those outside it, by those within the various minority or majority group they belong to, what it's like for those with more or less money, etc). They could also discuss their specific issues regarding their particular gender identity (Tim with the it/its pronouns, Cass with none, Duke with all of them, Damian with using both she and he, Jason with considering himself cisgender outside of Waltz, etc).

Because I want to have more representation where queerness is normalized, imma hc that Gotham (besides Bristol) is accepting. There's various levels of understanding/knowledge into distinct labels, colors, history, etc., but it's normal to use whatever pronouns (or lackof) that people say to use. There's no reaction at all to people's various gender expressions, partners, etc. It's normal to just be chill with it in Gotham, but it's debatable whether the person quite knows all the details (like that interview: "How many genders are there?" "I don't know. I just got here").

Outside of Gotham and online, there's the horrid shit. There's also other pockets of full acceptance around the world like Gotham. Metropolis is one of them (which is another reason why Gotham and Metropolis have such a rivalry).

The JL typically doesn't care about gender standards. A lot of them are not from Earth, so those societies (or other ones they have been exposed to) might not follow a binary gender structure. Those from Atlantis are around sea creatures that can switch their gender. Wonder Woman and those of her similar background grew up around the same myths that talk about gods and people switching into all kinds of stuff (animals, different genders, trees, etc). There may be a few that aren't aware initially of the many possibilities, but they either become accepting or get kicked out (fuck queerphobia).

There may be some subconscious shit in these more safe spaces, but overall people don't give a fuck what you identify as or who you get with (or if you don't get with anyone).

At the same time, I'd love for Batman to have to give an HR-similar presentation on queerness to the entire JL. Maybe they have one every year (including ones for different minorities [which incorporates metas and various alien species]) to discuss how to help folks of different background and how to be respectful of their culture/identity/behaviors/etc.

Anyways! Love the AU

[eldritchpeach]

Song title url game uwu

Aaa thank you for the tag dear @gdlavzo !! I had to remind myself "The genre doesn't matter. Pick a song PLEASE" lmao

S tarman - David Bowie

P etals - Hole 

I Want to Break Free - Queen

T rees and Flowers - Strawberry Switchblade

E dge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

F ade Into You - Mazzy Star

U nknown / Nth - Hozier 

L ight My Love - Greta Van Fleet 

S ober to Death - Car Seat Headrest 

K iss - Prince 

E ternally Yours - Motionless in White  

L inger - The Cranberries 

E mergency Contact - Pierce the Veil 

T he Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives 

O ne Hundred Years - The Cure 

N ot Me - Peach Pit 

I tag,,, YOU READING THIS >:) jk just whoever wants to do this you silly goose ily (who, me? Feeling bad about tagging people? How'd you know)

[kyrite]

.

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

[wilchur]

Isn't it a bit odd that Gortash is the only one who had no idea where tf Durge disappeared off to? Between him having to be there during the raid to crown the brain with Durge and Ketheric, and Orin showing up right after all like "I'm the Chosen of Bhaal now :)" I find it hard to believe that he not only didn't realise something must've happened to Durge down there, but that he also did not investigate their disappearance at all? It literally takes like 10 minutes to go through the whole thing and Orin did not hide their "body" at all. And yeah "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" blah blah, but he spent A Lot of time in the colony after the raid playing with his pickled brain jars so is it really meddling if Durge was literally a 3 minute walk away, being opened and closed like a reusable Ikea ziplock bag over and over again?

So my headcanon is that he had no idea when exactly the attack happened because Orin took Durge's form right after the deed was done and kept the disguise on for as long as she could. By the time Gortash (running on 2h of sleep a day and sheer force of will, making sure everything Goes According To Plan) finally figured out what was going on, it's been too long to pinpoint the exact moment "Durge" began to act off and know where to look for their body at the very least. Plus it's not like he could put the entire scheme on pause just to go chasing ghosts, Durge would not want him to.

And I think it fucked him up a bit, that he took too long to notice and lost his chance at maybe preventing the entire thing from unraveling. I think that "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" is either a lie or him trying convince himself he couldn't have done anything anyways.

Now imagine a Durge that is not an idiot, that dug through every nook and cranny of Moonrise and the colony in search of answers and knows a lot more than Gortash assumes they do since they're supposed to be a full on amnesiac. A Durge that talked to the elderbrain, that read the prayer of forgiveness and recognised their own handwriting, and that learned from Balthazar's notes right next to it that this Enver Gortash they so admired spent considerable time there while they were being tortured endlessly just on the other side of the fleshy corridor.

Imagine that instead of "Orin betrayed me, and you did nothing to help me then." they would say something more along the lines of "You call me your nearest and dearest, your favourite, but I know you were right there when Baltahzar's necromancer played with me like a doll for weeks and did nothing to help me." and just watch this man disintegrate from the psychic damage in real time.

[sarahs-library]

Forgotten

In which an unfortunate turn of events leads to Azriel forgetting his very pregnant mate.

Words: 2541

A/N - Hi everyone, this is my first foray into publishing work online and like everyone else I am preparing for CC3 by re-reading all of SJM's work. I've been inspired by all the lovely Azriel/Reader pieces I've seen on tumblr as of late and have decided to contribute my own.

Part Two ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Heavy waves of unconsciousness threatened to drag Azriel further, deeper into the abyss. The roaring in his ears drowned out rational thought. Tongue dragging against the roof of his dry mouth he reached out for something to anchor him, carting his hands through silk sheets. His skin burned.

“Azriel?” Elain’s sweet voice floated through the darkness. Azriel fought against the fatigue to open his eyes. The brightness strained and he tried to focus. Light filtered through the window, highlighting beautiful features and the golden hues of her hair. She leaned forward, taking a pitcher of water from the bedside table to fill a glass, holding it up to his lips so he could drink. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth in gratitude and he worked his dry lips around the rim. One hand came up to support the glass, holding it over Elain’s own, an excuse to feel her smooth sun-kissed skin.

He hadn’t seen her since the disaster of the almost kiss and his words, ‘this was a mistake’, had haunted him endlessly in his sleepless nights. The regret hadn’t stopped the images that plagued him. How she would look underneath him, or riding him, the faces she’d make as he brought her pleasure, the sweet songs she’d sing for him as she climaxed. Even Rhy’s warning hadn’t been able to tame the desire he felt for the middle Archeron sister; in his half delirious state he was content to take advantage of the closeness the opportunity offered. His eyes roamed her face, following the tantalizingly exposed skin of her neck down to where the bust of her pale pink gown hid her breasts from his view.

Satiated, he pulled his head away and managed to croak out a small word of thanks. Elain’s brows furrowed as she searched his face for something, finding it lacking.

“We’ve all been so worried about you.” Azriel frowned, finding it difficult to care about anything other than admiring her beauty in the light provided by the rising sun. He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and traced the delicate bones of her wrist under his fingers where his large hand still dwarfed hers. She pulled back, placing the glass on the bedside table and he felt words of protest trying to break free. Come back he thought, his appetite to feel more of her supple skin under his own ignited.

Contentment rose in him as she leaned closer once more, this time placing the back of her hand against his forehead. Perspiration clung between their skin; Azriel resisted closing his eyes and basking in the warmth erupting in his chest. Memories of his mother flooded back, in a daze he felt himself being carried through the few times in his childhood when she’d been able to care for him as he had yearned for. This position brought Elain even closer to him, affording him a delightful view of what lay beneath the top of her dress with a downward cast of his eyes. He soaked in where the tan from her time in the gardens morphed into untouched alabaster and ruminated on how it would taste under his tongue.

“You’re still burning up, I’ll send for Madja.”

“No,” he reached to grasp her hand as she pulled back. “Stay.”

 Elain worried her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she fixed her rich chestnut eyes on his face. Azriel couldn’t draw his gaze away from how the baby-soft skin looked trapped under her incisor, imagining how it would feel under his own. He watched as her eyes lost focus, she seemed to stare straight through him. He knew the look; could recognise the blankness imposed by communicating with daemati. Which meant that Rhys would be coming soon.

He sighed, perturbed by the impending interruption. He reached for his shadows, hoping that they would at least give him some advanced warning but found them missing. Frowning he tried to sit forward, tearing his eyes from Elain’s face he scanned the room. His room, at the House of Wind. All the times he'd dreamed of her in here with him, what they would do, he'd never quite imagined it like this.

“What happened?” He still clutched at Elain’s hand but lowered it to rest against his thighs. His chest was exposed, naked and flushed with fever. The muscles in his wings protested as he moved to unfurl them slightly and he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. Such a small motion, but it brought the catalogue of pain to the forefront of his mind through the haze.

The dark silk sheets pooled at his waist and rubbed against the stark whiteness of clean cotton bandages. He could feel where the membranes connecting the sinewy muscle and delicate bones of his wings pulled tighter in places over almost healed wounds. The room smelt of antiseptic; underneath his own scent was stale as though he hadn’t stayed there in a long time.

“I don’t know all of the details, you’ll have to speak to Rhys and Feyre.” Elain seemed to falter under the intensity of his gaze. “You arrived a few nights ago, winnowed to the River House poisoned and half-dead. Madja’s been working on you for days.”

"You've been here all this time?"

He leaned closer to her, his chest warming at the thought that perhaps he hadn't destroyed this, not like everything else he seemed to touch. Elain was frozen under his graze, eyes wide and lips parted. He drew closer, inhaling the scent of jasmine and honey, unable to resist her magnetism.

"Oh." She started and moved back in her chair, putting distance between him and his advances. "No, I arrived about half an hour ago. Y/N needed to get some rest." Her face seemed to implore him to do something and his thoughts were drawn to the failed kiss at solstice. Perhaps this was a gift from the mother Azriel reasoned. An opportunity to do everything over.

His eyes fixed on hers and an unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his chest. Azriel frowned as he felt a tug, it seemed to come from inside his ribcage. He brought his free hand, the one that was still clutching at Elain's, to rub at the skin over his heart. Confused he trailed his eyes down Elain's face to look at the skin his scarred fingers danced over.

He started as he saw it, the thread of pure gold. He reached in a tugged, feeling the answering wave of love and relief. If Azriel felt like he was drowning earlier it was nothing compared to the joy and elation that threatened to swallow him whole. His eyes burned as tears brimmed.

"Elain," he breathed. "I can't believe..." He trailed off, fixing her with a gaze of awe. If he wasn't still suffering from the lingering sluggishness perhaps he would have taken more stock of her confused stare. His hand stilled against his chest and he continued to stare at her. Whatever permission he was looking for, he thought he found in her gaze.

He reached up to caress her neck, following the delicate arch upwards to tangle his long fingers into her curls. His other hand dropped hers to cradle her cheek.

"Azriel." Elain tried to move back further in her chair to escape his wandering hands but found no further retreat against the back of the hardwood. Azriel followed her, shifting forward on the bed so only a few inches separated their faces. His breath mingled with hers.

Taking a deep breath he closed the distance between their lips, fire pooling in his gut with anticipation of finally getting to taste her like he had dreamed of. Claiming her full bottom lip between his own he revelled in the sweetness of her mouth. He pressed harder, her soft lips yielding against his own as he moved to deepen the kiss by tracing his tongue over the swell of her bottom lip. Elain softened in his arms and her fisted hands moved up to rest against his bare chest, not pulling him close but not pushing him away either.

He pulled back slightly, her doe-eyes meeting his firey gaze as he smiled contently at her. His left hand was tangled in the roots of her hair exposing the delicate skin of her ear which he moved to trace with his nose. His breath grazed the supple skin of her neck and his lips danced over the skin of her neck.

"Azriel, wait." Elain seemed to be roused by his actions, opening her hands to press her palms against the plain of his chest. He paused his movement against her throat, inhaling more of her scent deeply as he began to pull back.

"Azriel?"

The voice was unfamiliar, husky and choked, holding back emotion. Hurt bloomed through Azriel's chest and it startled him away from Elain. Anger rose within him at this stranger's interruption, at the hurt they'd caused Elain. Elain who was his mate. His lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl, driven by instinct. His eyes moved towards the doorway. He felt naked, at a disadvantage without the shadows that had followed him for most of his life, always whispering, always alerting him to the movement of others.

His eyes fixed on the feminine figure in the doorway, taking a cursory gaze over the long golden hair that pooled to her shoulders. She wore night court attire, loose-fitting dark trousers, and a thin-strapped top that hugged the top of her form and flowed out over the obvious swell of her abdomen. The trousers cut off at the calves and a swirl of shadows danced around her feet. Azriel started. They were his shadows.

Elain jumped to her feet, the wooden chair pulled up beside the bed hit the carpeted floor with a thud as she made to move away from Azriel. His hands moved to grab her, to pull her behind him as he struggled to his feet, to protect her from this thief that had infiltrated his home.

"Y/N...This isn't...We weren't, it was..."Elain trailed off, seeming to be at a loss for how to continue. Azriel, now upright but still unsteady, staggered forward a few steps to place himself in between the stranger and Elain.

"Who are you?" He demanded. Elain obviously knew this woman. His mind spun, thoughts still heavy from the lingering fever as he tried to piece the information together. He gestured at the floor, a signal for his shadows to return. Some of them peeled away from winding up the calves of this stranger and slithered towards him across the floor. He took comfort in the familiar cool trail left as they crawled up his legs and chest, curling around his ear to report to him.

Safe, they whispered. Safe as you instructed. Azriel frowned, clearly they were mistaken. He fixed his eyes on the female again, drawn to her face. Chartreuse eyes, lined with tears and framed with long lashes and dark charcoal, stared back at him. They weren't fae he realised, they possessed the otherworldly quality he'd only seen when looking at Amren. There was a deep sense of other about this female that heightened his feelings of unease, coupled with the rogue shadows that flaunted his command and stayed at her feet like loyal guard dogs Azriel automatically grazed his thigh looking for the reassurance of the heavy weight of truth-teller. He found none.

Elain was speaking again, trying to move forward past him, and this time he successfully caught her arm, gently angling her away from the infiltrator to shield her with his body once more. The female's gaze moved from his face to fix where his hand remained on Elain's bicep, rucking up the delicate pale pink fabric as he gripped it with his scarred fingers. Her eyes widened more, Azriel studied as her pouted bottom lip began to tremble and the tears began to spill down her face. She took a step back from where she stood in the open doorway, retreating into the hallway. Azriel was torn between the instinct to follow, to press the advantage he'd unwittingly gained and staying to protect Elain.

Elain who was violently shrugged herself out of his grip, whirling to face him her face filled with anger he'd never seen on her delicate features before.

"What in the cauldron are you doing?" Elain's teeth were bared, her chestnut eyes blazed as she gestured at him widely as she continued. "Have you lost your mind?"

Azriel, surprised at her sudden anger, felt a deep sense of unease that he'd misjudged the situation somehow. His mind whirled, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was so used to having the upper hand, having all the information, that without it he was lost for words. Elain continued to back away from him and his eyes darted from her to the doorway which now stood empty, no signs of the mysterious female remained. Azriel's eyes fixed again on Elain's face as they stared at each other. He tugged at the cord in his chest, hoping to receive a response, some kind of assurance that he hadn't imagined it.

A deep sense of betrayal coursed back through the bond, anger mingled with hurt, the sensation was so strong that it almost brought Azriel to his knees. As quickly as the sensation came it stopped, the thread no longer sung and Azriel tried to follow it to the source. A source, he realised flinching, that didn't end with Elain but seemed to trail off and lead elsewhere.

The clap as a pair of powerful wings moved through the air was the only warning as seconds later Rhys landed on the balcony. The doors flew open on a wave of darkness as he sauntered into the room, violet eyes scanning the scene. A dark brow crooked as he took in Elain's rage and his brother half-naked, still flush with fever his shadows swirling in agitation.

"What happened? Azriel, should you be out of bed? Where's Madja?" He addressed his brother first, but his eyes drifted to Elain as he cocked his head for the answer to the second question. Elain took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself, before closing her eyes - an obvious invitation, she wanted to show Rhys. Azriel decided that she could show him whatever she wanted. The more pressing issue, the unknown female, would have to take priority over whatever punishment the High Lord wanted to concoct over Azriel's blatant disregard for his orders.

"Rhys, the stranger - you have to find her. I don't know how she got in. I woke without my shadows and they were with her, she took them."

Rhy's eyes moved between him and Elain as he seemed to piece together the course of events. He took a step forward, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as Azriel bristled.

"Az." His voice was low, comforting, like he was trying to soothe a cornered predator. "Everything is okay, why don't you take a seat. Feyre's on her way, I think we need to talk."

A/N I'm hoping to start working on Part 2 asap but not sure how long it will take, I have so many ideas for this and committing to them is so hard

[distantdarlings]

CHIME IN // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.1K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After being assigned to an assignment together, you and Theo begin to take an interest in each other. When the two of you finally get together, an interruption occurs right in the middle of it.

+ WARNINGS - IMPLIED SMUT! Making out, language, they start to have sex but don't actually get there, gender-neutral reader, Mattheo interrupts, dirty talking, not proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Agora Hills - Doja Cat

---

It was close to midnight. That was about all you knew, though, as Theo slammed you against the wall just outside the boys’ dormitories.

He pressed his lips back against yours roughly, his tongue breaking through the barrier of your mouth quickly. You moaned against him at the sensation of him taking his full way with you.

“Ah-ah, baby, gotta stay quiet for me,” he mumbled against your lips. “You can scream for me once we’re back in my room.”

You gasped into his mouth as he slipped his hands around the curve of your ass and gripped hard.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Theodore Nott that was just so intoxicating. You’d been watching him for months until today when you’d finally pursued him.

The two of you had been trying to sneak some late-night studying in the library, knowing that both of you had a huge project coming up due within the next week. As soon as you’d been paired with him for the project, you knew you had to have him. He was just so confidently sweet, and absolutely fucking gorgeous. He was just perfect.

And so, finally, tonight, you’d decided to make a move. The two of you had been huddled together side-by-side, searching through a very lengthy book on the history of the Disarming charm. The librarian was bound to come searching your area soon, so you were going as fast as possible.

His shoulders had been bumping yours, his thigh was pressed tightly against yours, his breath was hot on your neck, and his eyes were roving endlessly—up and down the pages of the book and perhaps even past it. 

You weren’t exactly sure what had happened. The pulse hammering in your brain had practically beat all of the memory of the moment from your head, but you remembered him asking if you wanted to take the book back to his room, your agreeing, his eyes glancing at your lips, then the two of you were…well, here. The book had been all but forgotten back on the table at the library.

Your fingers curled into his honeyed hair, forcing him closer to you. He sighed against you, his body bracing you to the wall. His knee slipped between your thighs, his leg gently rubbing against your core. Another small moan left you.

“What if someone sees?” you gasped into him. He pressed another rough squeeze to your ass before pulling away. He grabbed your hand and began to yank you down the hall.

“We’re not supposed to be awake, remember? It’s likely nobody else is.” He gave you a sly smirk, his eyes flickering up and down your body. The way he looked at you made you feel as though you were being devoured alive. You could hardly stand it. Fuck whoever may see.

You pressed another demanding kiss to his lips, framing his face with your hands. He groaned into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist. The feeling of him holding you like he was was so refreshing. His enormous height positively dwarfed you.

“Patience, darling,” he said, pulling away again. “Back to the room.”

“I’ve no patience left, Theo,” you whined. “I’ve been waiting for months.” He began peppering rough kisses along your neck. 

“Yeah, baby? Do you want me that bad? Bet this sweet thing is just dripping for me,” he growled against your flesh, cupping your core within his hand. Your eyes clenched, and your lips parted in a silent scream. You adored how dominant he was.

He pressed you to the wall again, his hand sliding behind your head to keep it from hitting the hard stone. Your lips were against his once more, biting and licking and sucking. There was something about him that made it seem impossible to let go of him. All you wanted was more, more, more. 

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His breaths were fanning over your face in short, fast huffs. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a breath. 

“Back to the room, darling,” he groaned against you, tearing his lips from yours. He grasped your hand tightly within his and pulled you toward his dormitory. Theo had promised all of his roommates were out for the night doing whatever, but you still felt a little nervous at the thought of one of his friends seeing the two of you. If anyone had paid attention to both of you while working on this project, they’d likely have been able to see the obvious sexual tension floating between you. Even if they hadn’t been paying attention, they could’ve seen it. Any time Theo was around, you became the definition of ‘flustered.’

As you reached the door to his dorm, you felt him swing you toward the entrance and push you through. You shuffled over the threshold, attempting to let your eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding you. 

His hands gripped the sides of your face and pressed you back to his lips. Fuck, he tasted so good. Was it normal for someone to taste good? You didn’t know. You moaned into his mouth, shoving your hands against the buttons running down his shirt. Your shaking fingers made quick work of those pesky things—each one undone revealed more and more of his perfect chest. 

You pressed your cold hands against his flesh, reveling in the biting groan that poured from his lips. 

“Fuck, baby, on the bed,” he whispered fervently against your lips. He pushed you back against his bed. The backs of your thighs collided with the mattress, tipping your body over onto the soft comforters. You descended into mountains of green satin that smelled just like Theo. His scent overwhelmed your senses, pushing your conscience even further to the back of your mind. Your finger gripped the material of his blankets. 

Your lidded eyes found his as he got to work on his clothing, the way he stood above you reminiscent of a god. Your legs parted slowly, preparing for the weight that would soon settle between them.

“You ready for me, baby?” he breathed, yanking his shirt over his shoulders. You bit your lips at the full picture of his bare abdomen glaring back at you. The hard muscle rippling over his stomach caught each glimpse of the moonlight above you. You nodded pathetically, your legs bending at the knee. You didn’t want to wait any longer. All you wanted was him. 

“Say it for me,” he commanded, slipping his fingers along his belt. “I want to hear it. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you, Teddy, so bad,” you whined, feeling the heat building between your thighs. “I want to feel you over me—want to feel you make me all yours.”

“All mine, baby?” he asked, smirking widely. His belt popped open, showing off the large bulge beneath his dark briefs. You gulped at the sight, bracing yourself against his bed. He was bigger than you had anticipated—bigger than anyone you’d had before, that was for sure. 

He dropped himself onto the bed at your feet, pressing his muscular arms on either side of you. The added weight to the mattress tipped your body toward his as he slowly inched up the length of it. His knees slid along the slick duvet until one came to rest beneath your legs. It inched yours farther apart, claiming him a verified spot within you. Your head rolled back at the intoxicating display of dominance. 

At the movement, he quickly slid his face in between your shoulder and jawline, pressing rough kisses along the flesh there. If he weren’t careful, he’d leave marks, though you figured that’s what his goal was. His teeth cut along your throat, painting you with his claim. You now belonged to him, and the whole school would know that soon. What belonged to Theodore Nott was not challenged. 

“Theo, baby,” you whined. He hummed against your neck, asking what you needed. “I need you right now.”

“Yeah, sweetheart? I’ve got you,” he said, his hot breath fanning across your clothed chest. His fingers slipped down between the slit of your shirt, caressing against your pulse point. You shuddered at the feeling, barely able to take a deep breath. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this for months,” he groaned, his voice nearing a growl, as he ripped your shirt apart. You couldn’t force yourself to make a comment on him tearing your uniform. All you could think about right now was feeling him within you. 

He gripped the waistband of your bottoms and tore them down your legs with the same intensity as your shirt. You whined at the aggressive loss of your clothing, the cold air hitting your bare flesh like water. 

Once you were bare before him, his lips quickly replaced the absence of heat along your skin. His tongue painted every part of you, starting from the bottom of your stomach to the top of your chest. His mouth was mean and aggressive, bruising you as much as he could. You gasped at his rough sex. 

“Ever been with a Slytherin before?” he smirked, his fingers hooking slowly beneath the band of your underwear. You sighed aloud at the sensation. 

“You’re the first,” you responded breathlessly. He chuckled darkly as he pressed a rough kiss to your hipbone when he pulled your underwear to your knees. He moaned aloud at the reveal of your entire body. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whined, his hand slipping beneath the split of his pants. You braced yourself for what was soon to come. 

The air in the room was hot and smelled of Theo. The pale light that spilled through the window in the corner illuminated the gorgeous body before you with each new inch that was revealed. His hands slid his pants down his hips. Strong legs kept yours pressed apart. Your hands reached out, begging to feel his bare flesh against yours. He laughed mockingly. 

“Perfect, desperate baby….” His hands gently pressed his hot core against the inside of your thigh. You gasped sharply at the sensation, knowing he was soon to tear your body apart. Your hands tangled in the sheets, your eyes clenched shut, your lips parted, your words needy and begging. The tip of him touched against your entrance—

“I’m guessing you guys need the room to yourself?”

You and Theo screamed at the sudden words. The two of you shot up from your current positions before realizing your unfortunate nudity. Theo pushed you back down amongst the sheets and collapsed next to you. He yanked the comforters over you. 

Mattheo Riddle was set comfortably in the bed just opposite Theo’s. He wore a soft gray tee shirt and unkempt hair. He was settled beneath the covers with a book in hand and a small threaded bookmark slipped between the pages. It looked as if the two of you had just interrupted a sort of peaceful moment for him.

“What the hell, man?” Theo demanded, his tone becoming quite angry. You clenched the satin blankets over you, trying to keep your head as tucked as possible. You didn’t really want Mattheo Riddle to see you like this. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you say something?”

“I’m sorry. When was I supposed to make a mention that I was here? Was that before or after you asked them if they’d ever had Slytherin dick?” he asked. Smart-ass. You giggled a bit at his comment. Theo glanced at you with an annoyed expression. You stopped, whispering a brief apology, yet unable to drop the smile on your lips. To be fair, Mattheo had made a good point. In the midst of your…movement with Theo, there hadn’t really been a good time for him to chime in. 

“Whatever, man,” Theo sighed and rolled his eyes. No one spoke for a moment.

“So, did you want me to go or…?”

“Yes!” The both of you agreed aloud. The dark-haired boy nodded his head and, collecting his books and other various items, made his way toward the door. 

Just before he exited, he paused and turned toward you. Theo seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him, but you looked straight at him. His dark eyes traveled over you briefly.

“Well, when you’re done with him and you’d like some real Slytherin dick—”

“Riddle, get the fuck out!” Theo shouted, sending a pillow hurtling towards him. With an evil laugh, Mattheo quickly dodged the flying object and slipped through the dormitory door. Theo groaned and pressed his fingers to his face. 

“Use protection!” 

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx (If you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me, or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON NOT SHYING TO SHOW YOU OFF.

cw: fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, established relationship, brief mentions of simons past, possesive behavior, mentions of another task force characters, kisses, pet names, public sex, passionate sex, unprotected p in v, marking, creampie pairing: bf simon ghost riley x gf fem reader

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

you and simon have been in a relationship for a relatively long time so that the man behind the balaclava of the skull and the nickname of the ghost, a man whose hands are stained with blood up to the elbows and dark circles have sunk under the dark pools of his eyes has become more than his dark image, his past, blossoming with your help.

his soul was no longer tormented by memories flashing like annoying flies and sleepless nights, cursed by the three cursed obscenity under his breath when he looked at the white shabby ceiling, now he fell asleep under the softness of your body near his chest, watching your chest heave and eyelashes flutter, soft sighs slide from your lips, now he was no longer tormented by memories, now he no longer was faced by faceless corpses.

if he could put all his gratitude into his words, he would not be silent for a minute, but instead of words, his eyes and actions spoke, warm brown ones always secretly accompanied you and stuck to your back until the moment you disappeared from his field of vision, calloused hands carefully held yours or lay with a landing weight on the very bottom of your back, he accompanied you, drove you, saw you off, and perhaps very rarely expressed his affection verbally, but when a languid baritone sounded like lightning through the sky in three words over your ear — «i love you», you knew that he was attached to you.

therefore, simon was not afraid to show you as his most precious treasure to everyone around him, he was not afraid to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers almost in a knot, he was not afraid to kiss you in public, raising his mask only to his nose and maybe covering the two of you with his palm, muffling your meek protests with a brief but deep kiss, licking your bottom lip hot and wet, searching for an entry, before pulling back and straightening himself out, narrowing his eyes in a smile at your embarrassment and slight frown in your brows.

from time to time you could catch him openly praising you, be it within the walls of your house, where he would stand in the aisle to the room or sit on the bed while you were changing clothes, endlessly repeating in a grump, but truly loving manner that — «you're so beautiful like that, fuck, my gorgeous love», or in public, sitting in a bar with his comrades from the task force, to whom he had no problem showing you off, trusting them like family, trusting them with you, almost all the time watching you sit and communicate with them, giggling, forcing him at a certain moment to squeeze your cheeks and lean over to kiss you, causing you to squeak in dismay, squeezing his shirt on his chest into fists while he released your lips with wet pop, noticing out of the corner of his eye how some of the boys were embarrassed by such a display of intimacy, but this didn't stop him from purring — «sorry, you just so lovely while giggling all like that, doll»

and he, as if unexpectedly, had no problem letting the others hear how lucky he was, taking you away from the table in the process, only humming at your giggling and slightly interested — «where are we going, simon? baby?? are we going home?» which he may have been rude, but ignored, and the rest of the task force either guessed or simply got away with it, but one way or another you find yourself in a narrow hallway on the way to the toilets, pressed against the wall in a darkened corner, when his lips press against yours with heat and wetness, licking into your mouth.

he only brought you two here because he couldn’t contain his arousal while looking at you, relaxed, cheerful, and yet incredibly beautiful — and he would have been glad to let you talk to his mates longer, but he simply couldn’t stop himself from pinning you against the wall, pulling his hands under your cute, loose dress that you wore especially for this meeting, and running his thick fingers along the edges of your panties and right along your clothed slit, pressing teasingly before starting to gradually lower them, making you let an impatient, albeit an embarrassed whine — «si.. there's people..»

simon just grunts as always, taking a moment to lower your slightly drenched panties, his touch gentle, always so, but yet impatient.

he then swiftly unzips his pants, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxers, throbbing, meaty length with dark red tip that leaks precum and gets him all wet and sticky as he pumps himself couple of times, guiding himself between your slightly parted legs, teasing your slick slit and lightly brushing against your clenched cunt, eliciting a moan from you, sweet, shyly and almost chocked from embarrassment sound.

pressing his broad chest against your back, he pins you against the cold wall of small hallway corner, his body heat radiating against your skin as anticipation hangs heavy in the air as he positions himself, ready to stuff himself full in your wet heat, resting his head on your frail shoulder and muttering in your ear, deeply, as if growling, holding all his pent up arousal so as not to overwhelm you and peppering the side of your face — «s'pretty, just.. gonna be real quick, lovie, couldn't help myself»

unable to refuse, you silently arch, ducking your head slightly under your arm that are braced on the wall, when simon nothing but growls appreciatively at the sight of your plush ass pressed against his pubic bone and arch of your spine, his desire intensifying.

thick, warm palm squeezes your butt with his free hand, relishing in the softness and warmth beneath his touch, albeit possessively, letting his fingers sink into the warm skin and leave scarlet imprints from the touch.

with a firm grip, he pulls your asscheek slightly, allowing him to guide his throbbing cock inside your cunt, your folds flutter around him as he eases inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the slight stretch.

he can feel his bulbous head leaking, the slickness making it easier for him to slide into you until he is fully buried inside your warm depths, bottoming out fully till he's balls deep, you squeeze and clench around him till your hole relaxes and he can move a tad bit, looking behind his shoulder just to see the dim lit bar hallway still missing of people, and it gives him more openness to action without the fear of you being uncomfortable.

and you don’t even feel it no more when simon starts with a few slow, testing thrusts, his hands resting on top of yours on the wall, he squeezes your hands gently, intertwining his fingers with yours, providing a comforting touch amidst the growing intensity and strokes your knuckles, his lips leaving quick kisses on your cheek and the sides of your face, distracting you from the increasing speed of his thrusts.

his hips roll and snap, driving his thick cock deeper with each movement, the strain of pleasure causes moans to escape your lips, muffled by the fear that someone going to hear you both, or he's friends that will try to find you, but still, unable to muffle them fully.

your eyes roll back in pleasure, losing yourself to the sensations coursing through your body, your cunt clenches around him, coating his thick cock in slickness, heightening the friction and pleasure for both of you as he thrust deeper, brushing against your spongy spots and finally finding the right place, hitting rapidly.

he knows this place inside you better than you yourself, thrusting his dick rapidly with just the right amount of force, the pleasure is overwhelming, causing your legs to tremble beneath you, knees buckling as if branches.

simon grunts right below your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, as he presses you further into the wall, his bulky form squishing against your body, creating an intimate shield, he can let people hear, but not look at how you melt against him and become a beautiful, fucking pretty mess, it's just for his eyes.

his balls slap against the swell of your ass with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing in the room, as his hands squeezes yours tightly, ensuring you have no way to muffle the throaty mewls that escape your lips, full of desperate mewls of his name and unintelligible babbling — «si! si-simon, yes, s-s' deep! hmnn!» the sounds of your pleasure reverberate, unabashedly reaching the ears of anyone passing by, leaving no doubt to the passionate encounter taking place between you in this small, narrow corner.

simon's ears perk up as he hears your desperate babbles, and it's only serves to fuel his desire, and he growls in response — «f-fuck.., what ya doing to me, doll» and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

he presses his face into your neck, kissing softly and moving against your skin with his teeth, scratching, alternating between gentle bites and leaving marks in the form of hickeys, let them bloom on your skin like pinkish purple flowers, the one's he's happy to pepper your flesh with.

his hips snap against your ass with greater force, his cock driving deeper in your slickness and hitting your g-spot with each powerful thrust, simon shows no signs of slowing down, his determination evident as he continues to ravish you from the inside, each vein on his shaft rub against your gummy walls, fucking your brains out.

your grumbles and throaty moans intensify, fueling his hunger even more, as well when you arch deeper, pressing yourself against his fast and desperate thrusts, seeking even greater pleasure, the sound of your voice and the way you respond to him cause his cock to throb, aching for release, leaking without stopping as his head plunge against your spongy spot, aching to fill you, as he relishes in your clenching and spasming.

as his cock continues to leak inside you, the slickness adding to the intensity of your pleasure, he relentlessly hits all the soft spots inside you, not giving you a moment to catch your breath, knocking it from your lungs, rhe burning sensation in his hips matches the sensation in your ass from his forceful snaps, heightening the pleasure for both of you.

as you feel the familiar, lava hot feeling in your lower stomach coiling tighter with each passing minute, simon senses that he's reaching his own limit as well, he buries his face in your shoulder, not letting himself kiss you, allowing you to sob against the wall from the overwhelming ecstasy, as your body shudders uncontrollably, pressing against him tighter as you struggle to find any relief from the impending climax that looms just here.

simon is completely lost in his own primal desires, fucking into you with relentless fervor, he shushes your babbled mewls, with lazy kisses on your chin, trying to provide some comfort amidst the overwhelming pleasure, as your words die on your heavy tongue and everything you let out is just — «close, i'm close, simon, hhmn, ah, yes!» as you press against his body, taking every harsh thrust with a mix of pleasure and pain.

your walls and folds spasm and clamp around his slick cock, signaling your impending climax, and then it hits you like a tidal wave.

your face lowers, your eyes rolling back until all you see is darkness, your body goes limp, shuddering uncontrollably as your cunt pulses and releases slick and cum, coating his shaft in your essence, letting it drip from your puffy lips and make a mess.

meanwhile, simon's tip curls and bumps against your g-spot more slowly and smoothly, prolonging his own pleasure, he throbs inside you, releasing warm, thick milky cum, painting your insides with his potent seed, filling you just as nice while panting in your ear and pepper you with soft kisses, finally releasing one of his hands to touch your chin, tipping it as you lift your head dazedly, letting him kiss your lips tenderly, murmuring gently — «thank you darling, did so good, such a good girl, just take it, yeah? t-take it» as he pump his cum in you.

he clearly ensures that his cum is thoroughly buried in your loose, wet hole before easing himself out with a quiet, slick noise, simon looks down at the white ring on the base of his shaft and the sticky mess that now coats your cunny, his eyes heavy lidded with satisfaction.

a deep, contented growl rumbles in his chest as he observes how his seed slightly seeps from your throbbing cunt, trailing along your thighs and dripping onto your panties, so he gathers some of the cum with his fingers, rubbing it against your sensitive folds, stuffing it back inside you, eliciting sobs from you as you remain too sensitive from the intense pleasure.

— «i know, love, i know, took it so good, just relax» he coos softly, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and dominance, as he fumbles with his pants and boxers, quickly hiding his now soft cock back inside his pants.

with a nonchalant disregard for the wet mess, he puts your panties back on you, not minding the mixture of his cum and your slickness that clings to the fabric, before spinning you around gently and picking you up in his arms, letting your limp legs wrap around his waist as he helped you, holding gently with one arm, while he adjusted the hem of your dress into place with other, hiding everything intimate from prying eyes, at lough not from everyone.

as soon as he turns and begins to carry you back towards the very inside of the bar, away from the dark corner, he bewitches around the corner and meets a well familiar scott, johnny, taking in a familiar dark mop of hair, arranged in mohawk, blue eyes that look with a certain taken aback when he immediately breaks through the silence in his usual barely intelligible speech — «eh, here you are, everyone was worried where you two been» but immediately shuts up when he takes in a situation better.

johnny is not stupid, he perfectly notices such details as the slight liddenes in brown eyes and your absolutely fatigued figure, which led you to bury yourself in simon's shoulder, almost sleepily, and he catches a glimpse of the bite marks and hickeys on your skin, simon's carelessly buttoned pants and your slightly wrinkled dress, causing his lips to break into a grin, and his eyes squint slyly, understandingly, and simon already feels where this will lead to.

but instead of further words, johnny pats him on his free shoulder, a little weaker than usual, out of sincere concern not to disturb you, before looking over his shoulder at the rest of the boys, to their table in a quieter corner, before looking back at simon, tilting his head, and pronouncing with slight humor, but no less valuable for this — «alright, i see, away with ye, take the bonnie home, i'll tell the boys that you two had to go, it was nice to see ya that happy around her»

simon's eyes flutter with clear respect, a fragile tenderness for a person who seems to be lending him a helping hand, albeit in such a small way, before he nods and they shake hands hastily, rather rudely, after which johnny leaves back to the table, and he, kissing the top of your head gently, gently strokes the curve of your back and whispers — «let's get back home, yeah, sweetheart?»

and you can only nod weakly, burying yourself in his shoulder more actively, before allowing him to take everything into his own hands and, squeezing you more possessively, head towards the exit.

[fillinforlater]

The Pull

Randoms x Ning Yizhou (NingNing) & Kang Hyewon

Length: 1165 words

Tags: gangbang, hair pulling kink, rough, a lot of positions, sex, being a willing toy for men and women

TW: gangbang, the hair pulling is kinda rough, QUICKIE

Inspiration: the two pictures below

(A/N: just a short quickie I had in mind for forever now. Sorry if it's just bullshit, but I hope y'all enjoy it lol)

"Okay, what is this?"

Ningning is perplexed. She let her imagination run wild when Hyewon invited her over weeks ago, the premise: fun with multiple people. Now, multiple can mean a lot, like sharing a couple, something Ningning is already familiar with or maybe two guys for each of them. That's about as many as she can handle simultaneously. Come to think of it, Ningning remembers Hyewon telling her about having three guys and two girls on her at the same time, though—

"Don't tell me you expected more?" Hyewon laughs as she pushes herself through the tall and small and buff and slender frames of horny people around her towards her Chinese friend.

"Less," Ningning quietly hisses when she sees the twinkle in Hyewon's starry eyes. This woman is truly like the night sky: thrilling, even if you can't see it, drop dead gorgeous when uncovered and always happy to surprise her with a shooting star—or in this case, almost twenty willing people. 

"Oh, can my small Ning-ning-ie not handle a dozen men and half a dozen women?" Hyewon's laugh is loud and echoes amongst the crowd whose eyes are all focused on the two. Ningning can feel herself getting undressed, hell, she might as well be bare in their eyes, clothes already on the floor and Hyewon is the same. 

"You're crazy." She puts her arms on Hyewon's shoulders and looks past her. A wave of blankness washes over her head. Now she is the one undressing all those strangers before her, the men whipping out their hard cocks, small, large, thick; the girls with their hairy or shaved pussies, tiny tits or gigantic melons—she is equally scared and excited, so she needs this final push to get her into it.

"And you are crazy hot, Ning-ning-ie~ and your hair…"

Unwillingly, Ningning throws her head back in a guttural, deep moan that has the entire room in goosebumps of thrill and blind lust. Hyewon has both hands in Ningning's endlessly long hair, the blonde fittingly forming tails to tug. There are a million reasons Ningning loves Hyewon, but it's the way she pulls her hair that made her addicted to the older girl.

"Don't keep them waiting any longer, Ningningie~ they can and will pull it and fuck you good.

"Trust me."

The two women are swarmed, torn from each other's grasp and covered in hands. A palm on her back, barely worth the mention, another on her chest, too bad that there's fabric in the way, a long, manicured pointer on her thighs, Ningning holds her breath—she shrieks when someone combs her hair and tugs at whatever they can grab. The doubts and fears she had about this are all gone when more and more people try to get a stronger reaction out of her and pull at her hair.

"Those tails—fuck—were a great idea," Hyewon half moans, half laughs from the other side of the crowded room, amidst a crowd, her frame the toy of the crowd. Her dress is easily removed, unsurprisingly, she likes easy access. Ningning then sees her friend drop to her knees, mouth on a cock, fingers on other shafts and pussies, while a large, burly man roughly pulls her hair back.

"Do the same to me," Ningning begs to the first person she can see, a bald guy, twice her age easily. He nods and pushes her to the ground while the pointy, manicured nails from before are shredding themselves through her top. "My hair, oh God, fuck, yes!"

Though unable to see it—a girl has buried the Chinese woman's face in her hairy cunt—Ningning can feel strong pulling from all sides, relentless, reckless how some are rubbing their cocks on it as well. She searches for the hard clit, her tongue twirling it, like Hyewon has teached her in a private session, way before gangbangs even came into the picture. Some greasy guy forces her to stroke his tiny cock, she can feel him cumming, hear him groaning, imagine the pearly white all over her arm. Not a good spot to finish. 

"In my mouth, ahh." Ningning opens wide and the guy finishes on her lips until two other men decide to suddenly pick her up. The rest of his load lands on her tits, but Ningning has already forgotten about it, too big is the thrill of a stranger uncovering her ass and showing it off to everyone. 

"Fuck me standing," she screams in euphoria. "As long as you pull my fucking hair, I don't care!"

Today is Christmas for Ningning, because as the guy carrying her aligns his cock with her soaking pussy, another woman has her ponytail in hand and starts to play tug of war against herself. In Ningning's brain, the pleasure and pain clash shortly, but soon find a rhythm—the same rhythm in which her pussy is getting pounded. Each thrust rocks her world and now the tug can send her into bliss.

"Oh my God, I'm cumming, don't stop!"

Hyewon meanwhile gets spitroasted in a quite unusual way: two men try to get their semi-hard cocks into her mouth while a young lady shoves a large strap-on in her ass over and over again—she literally pushes it all the way in, just to pull it back out again. The sight of Hyewon's gaping asshole has a guy close. He jerks himself to completion and his spunk lands in Hyewon’s messed up and torn locks.

"I want to cum again, please!"

Ningning gets dropped, but this is nowhere near the end of her wish fulfillment. There is always someone else to fondle her assets, be it tits or ass, and of course, her golden strands. In another team effort, her ass cheeks get spread wide to reveal a twitching hole, always clean, relaxed and ready, especially after the height of an all time orgasm. A cockhead eases itself inside her. 

"Oh fuck!"

"Get her hair!" a strong willed woman shouts at two men who were somewhat awkwardly jerking themselves off at the ever switching sight. "You pull here, you pull over here, on the other side.  Fuck her hair for all I care, ruin her somehow."

The same woman is not only successful with her instructions, she also puts her foot on Ningning's cheek and has her head trapped on the floor, unable to escape the cock that is destroying her ass faster and faster. Ningning can feel her knees give up slowly, they tremble with the force of an earthquake followed by a volcanic eruption, because a final tug puts her over the edge again. This time her orgasm is messy, clear squirt lunges out of her cunt while incoherent profanities leave her mouth.

"Fucking, th-thank you, shit, oh Hyewon, ahhh, fill my dumb ass, c-c-cum in my hair, ahh!"

"You're welcome," Hyewon moans back, small body upright, a cock in her pussy, hickeys on her collarbone, a tongue in her ass, her hair pulled.

Of course it's pulled.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Taking the Wheel

—

Time Written-10:47 p.m

Dick Grayson/fem!reader smut

—

Clink, clack, clink, clack. The sounds of heels faintly echoed across the long since faded parking lot, carelessly crossing through thin spaces in between cars and trucks to throw the irritating bastard off your back.

Since you didn’t had arrive with friends, and the main reason you arrived to the packed Lounge, especially on weekends, quickly failed, you were left to walk a long ways across the vehicular maze to get towards your car.

A long, irritating walk on eroded asphalt, in obnoxiously irritating footwear.

Honestly? You could’ve cared less for the foot ache, attempting to push your pace to get towards your destination, your club mood spoiled over by a new desire of getting in your warm, vacant bed at home. Your attempt at distracting your endlessly rattled mind by going towards one of the hottest clubs in the city proved to be a complete failure.

This was Gotham. You knew better than to believe you were going to enjoy a night out for clubbing, completely ignorant to the possibility of the last man you ever expected to arrive, clad in his goddamn uniform, on the search for you.

The only way you learned it was him throughout all the blaring music and strong strobe light ambiance was the roar of patrons crowding around the hottest man of the hour around the dance floor.

What a stupid plan honestly, especially with the overwhelming presence of the obnoxious vigilante following shortly behind you, wondering if you were just doing this to get a reaction out of him.

“You can stop following me now, Grayson.”

It was strangely empty tonight, how he managed to shake off the crowds to go after you alone was a question you could’ve cared less to understand or answer.

"You're walking at night? Alone? You realize you live in Gotham, right?”

You only continued walking, holding yourself with your clutch purse tucked under your shirt, your heels scraping along stray parking lot gravel.

"Aren’t you cold?" Dick asks, trying to hide his worry about you being in that dress in this sixty five degree night.

He was right, watching your head shake no, despite how you carried yourself.

"Oh, come on." Dick says in assuming defeat, only to surprise you via cutting off your path by hopping up on the nearest challenger hood, abruptly jumping in front of your path.

“You can't just walk off like nothing just happened between us." Dick asserts, meeting your aggravated stare.

“Get out of my way—“

"Look, I'm tired of giving you space. Call me clingy, I don’t care. We need to talk about what happened, right now." The words sound more desperate than he intended, other than stern and demanding.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You mutter, attempting to continue your walk before he holds a hand out in front of you, preventing you from squeezing past him.

"There’s always something to say,” Dick says, hoping you’d try to look back at him.

You’re clearly hurting more than you’re letting on. He can’t really blame you.

You’re no party girl, but you are a girl he hurt. Throwing yourself back out into the dating pool was a typical response, even he’s done it, but he can’t let that happen this time. Not with you.

"Let's... let's talk about this somewhere safe, okay?" He asks, looking down at you. You shift your head a bit, giving him an annoyed glare.

“I wanna go home, okay?” You nearly spat back to him, insisting to yourself that you had no patience to deal with him.

Dick doesn't immediately move in response, gazing down at you with sympathy instead of irritation, such a heart throb in his pretty eyes.

He probably practiced this often every morning in the mirror ever since you broke up, keeping you hooked like a mouse with cheese, or a pretty boy who always knew what to say.

“… Okay.”

He offers his hand out, awaiting your keys in his open palm.

“At least let me drive you home.” He offers, remaining stagnant until he received the only answer he expected. It’ll make him feel a whole lot better knowing you weren’t in the worst place in Gotham right now.

You could only huff through your nose before rummaging through your purse, pulling out your keys.

“Fine,” you mutter, dropping the item into his quickly closing hand. “Just home. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Dick confirms with a hand raised before stepping off to the side, allowing you to walk ahead of him. “Promise.”

The car was warm, the heater constantly blowing warm air against your exposed back, nearly bumping back against your leather steering wheel.

The driver’s seat had long since been reclined, the material lightly squeaking in response to your sweaty bodies shuffling against each other. Lips battling in between teeth and tongue for dominance he willingly gave you, giving you the impression of control.

His body completely hidden by the suit, while you were still in your backless, black sequin party dress.

Sure, the car was private and warm, the alley was dark, the only light coming from the tiny radio screen, faintly reflecting off the various tiny black sequins of your dress, now pulled down from your torso, decorating your waist like a belt of dying stars.

You remembered the way his gloved hands impatiently unclipped the seatbelt so he could pull you across to his lap after an unprecedented, filthy make-out. The way he had purposely massaged the insides of your thighs caused electricity to shoot through you, needing you as close as physically possible, your short dress riding up precariously over your thighs.

"I should have done this sooner," Dick grunts against your painted lips while pinching your nipples in his thumbs, your nails rasping down the smooth material of his Nightwing suit, pulling it off his shoulders.

“D’you think someone will see us like this…?”

"No one's gonna be looking," Dick gasps out, his tone confident while dripping with cocky arrogance. "And if they do... who the hell cares."

Dick could barely focus on what was happening outside the car as it was.

For some reason, that thought made this all the more exciting. Not that the thought of being seen with a beautiful woman in Nightwing’s lap ever seemed like a bad thing.

“You looked amazing in this dress..." he runs a hand along the curve of your hip.

"But you look a lot better without it."

You’d physically cringe if you weren’t so damn aroused. Only someone like him could pull off cheesy one liners about eighty six percent of the time.

"So do something about it,” you whisper, nipping his bottom lip in your teeth, nearly contemplating on drawing blood once he chuckled.

"With pleasure, Princess.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifted you slightly with such ease, allowing him to pull his hard cock from the torturous material that suffocated him.

It would’ve been a much quicker process to undress if he randomly decided to arrive in that god awful disco suit, but it was far too late to complain now.

Prep was limited to the pleasant view of Dick stuffing three fingers into your warm hole, smirking at your hiss before raising them to his mouth, making a show of gathering his own spit while tasting you, before giving the tip of his red, angry cock a few quick strokes.

His fingers hooked your thin, messy panties to the side, hiding his mused smile from your gaze upon hearing your terribly hidden whimper as you felt the soft, blunt tip poking at your opening. A large gasp of air quickly invaded and evaded your lungs as you pushed down on him, feeling him splitting you open inch by torturously thick inch.

His own lust begged the rest of his consciousness to push further into you, aching to stuff the rest of himself inside your wet, greedy cunt. Luckily, you listened to your own thoughts, sinking yourself the rest of the way until you were properly seated, your bare thighs resounding against his with limited time to adjust.

"Holy-" He finds himself whining out, nearly crumbling apart from your silky, sweet cunt gripping him like a damn vice. Incidentally, his grip on your thong tightened after an involuntary thrust, forcing the weak band to snap apart.

The man could’ve cared less, carelessly tossing the ruined garment before gripping your hips with both hands, fingers hooking along your dress as an additional anchor to feverishly fuck you, hearing your breathing shift into quick, eager moans.

He wanted to take control so bad, but he was losing it before he even began.

The moans he emitted were heavenly, the muscles in his throat constricting as his head tilts back against the rest. He groans out your name in a delightful sigh, his fingers digging into your plush ass.

Lipstick prints littered his neck, eyes squeeze shut behind his domino mask.

“God, I've missed you,” the vigilante whimpers out, admiring your silvery necklace clink along the valley of your perfect, juicy tits bouncing erratically close to his chest, accompanied by the jingle of your matching bangles as you sunk your nails deep into the muscles along his back.

Dick's heavy lidded eyes gazed at your flushed face, your cheeks tinted pink with heavy, orgasmic blush. Your mascara stained lashes littered with cloudy black tears, bits of dappled glitter in the corners of your eyes, your signature touch, remaining poised along your perfect face. The picture he always looked forward to taking after every successful date night.

"Do you feel how much I've missed you?" Dick grumbles against your shoulder, his voice breathless, despite his best efforts to control his emotions. “Feel how hard, how deep, just fucking into this pussy? That’s all you baby.” The seemingly endless cooes against your neck render endless shivers down your spine, garnering the exact reactions he wanted from you; straining against the tight clench of your eager cunt.

"Oh-God. Fuuuck yes, missed you so much, princess,” Dick whispers, his tone filled with lust and excitement. He teetered on the edge of begging you to bite him again, to mark his neck up however with as many nips as you please, eager to see such raw evidence of your teeth marks in the morning.

“Mph— take it, baby. F-fucking take it all.”

You could only moan in response to his many words against his neck, your painted eyes nearly fluttering closed as you persist on your relentless pace. He was enjoying this a little too much, as much as you were, if not more.

Amidst the mind numbing euphoria of fucking his ex girlfriend in her own car, calloused hands full of black sequins and exposed skin, even he was calling himself an idiot in his own mind as he whimpers a lot louder than he intended within your shared ecstasy.

He was a damn idiot, thinking only about how much he’s hated being in a relationship with anyone except you. How much you’ve grown to become his favorite person; the one woman he needs every damn night. Every second of the damn day.

And if he wants to prove it by having you ride his cock in the seat of a car parked in a secluded alleyway, so be it. He’ll spoil you with a white plush bed caked in rose petals once after you agree to get back together with him.

"Ba-Baby..." Dick croaks through his stutter, his voice cracking slightly as he watches you come to an abrupt halt to his dismay.

A weak, pathetic grunt spews from his lips as you roll your hips, rocking along his lap, his bruised Adam’s apple bobbing after each whimper and whine. "Don’t stop—don’t stop. Shiiit, I’m begging you—“

His words muffle in a quick second as you stuff your ruined, bunched up thong into his mouth, cerulean eyes widening in surprise by boldness.

Many times he’s taken the lead, regardless over where your horny selves ended up. Any recollection of him doing this to you quickly faded once you locked eyes, his brows raised in surprise and submission to your taunt, prideful expression, lipstick smeared lips scowling in annoyance.

Right now, right now you wanted nothing more than to take out your frustrations on him. Even if it was one of the least violent thoughts you had when it came to him, you compensated via heavy scratches and relentless bites on his neck, and now this.

He wouldn’t be whining like such a bastard in a rut without your sweet, creamy pussy downgrading him from an arrogant, cocky, fearless vigilante into a raspy, quivering disciple. Bright, pretty putty in your hands.

Your hands grasped along the back of his head, purposefully frazzling his sweaty, perfect locks of hair as you eagerly chased another kiss. Your hands gripped his hair tighter causing him to take a sharp intake of air in.

You wouldn’t be such a quivering mess without the constant spear of his hard, delicious cock. A victim to this nearly endless cycle of ‘Fuck now, ask questions later.’

‘Or, just fuck some more later.’

You knew this, and you knew he’d give you what you wanted first before you even considered the idea of forgiving him.

“I need you to- fuck, j-just shut up. Shut up a-and keep going, Dick. Keep— Keep going. Just- Just keep fucking me.”

He stares straight ahead at the rich goddess amidst the fogged up windshield in front of him, his hands reinforcing his grasp along your thighs.

Obediently, he picked up the pace, the fat head hitting directly on your sweet spot much rougher and faster with intentions to leave you bruised, hoping you’d allow him to care for you for the rest of the week shortly after.

He moaned much louder against the damp, pheromone laced fabric, swallowing up your sickeningly sweet venom while he pistons his hips, making his soaking wet, twitchy balls constantly smack against your overstretched cunt.

Oh, if only you knew how much you drove Richard Grayson wild, if only you knew.

Hell, what was the argument even about? Neither of you could barely remember anymore.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while

warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 2.2k

notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it

---------------------------------------------------

God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.

---------------------------------------------------

You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.

The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.

In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face. 

It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of  the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish. 

---------------------------------------------------

Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up. 

Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure. 

Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body. 

Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.

---------------------------------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY💀💀💀

taglist: @sunfairyy @ladespedidas @jenniferdixon05207 @chalametet @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @trying-2bcool @deputy-videogamer @chatoicboy @cookielovesbook-akie @impettywhenyouare @unnamedgayperson @sin4tra @twentysomethingwereyote @cherrymanhuas @sagejin @isaidoop @hysteriaabsd @autismsupermusicalassassin @persimmoned-fig @dcsuperheros @amodernarrietty @konniebon @barbi-e7 @venus1224idkpleaze @almondlocust @babybella777 @urmomcomsiimiamour @96jnie @cryptidwlw69 @mirrorball-6 @whosace16 @wolfiepirate @gobblegluckgluckgod @keenzinemugstudent @bitchotine @leopandabearsblog @blumin8 @malynn @mearss @yu-rylee @myhomethesea @ashjbu @skcj24 @joanne-uwu @y2ksitgirl @inosukesweirdwife @a-simp-20 @shibble @euphoricfics @hwanunjin

[azrielsdove]

Hi! It has been years since i’ve written like this, but after becoming obsessed with the ACOTAR series I needed to write again. This is my first one in a long time so it may be a little rough. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: 18+, Mature

Fake Dating: Azriel x Reader

Your eyes traveled down his face, his body, catching on the tattoos swirling his arms, letting out a soft sigh. From beside you came a small chuckle, “If you stare at him any harder you’re going to burn a hole through his skin.” You turned and glared at the Shadowsinger, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Hush, Azriel.” You muttered before turning back to look at Rhysand.

You had met Azriel nearly 300 years ago now, right after they completed the blood rite. You were healing his injuries, chatting with him as you do all your patients. You learned all about his brothers, Cassian and Rhysand. When he was all patched up, he took you over to meet them. The first time your eyes locked onto the future High Lord, you knew you were fucked.

Once Rhysand became the official High Lord, Azriel came to offer you a job with them. You asked why, as you certainly weren’t bad at what you do, but there were definitely more talented healers to choose from. He said Rhys wanted you and only you, and you weren’t going to argue with that. That night you packed up the few things you had and Azriel brought you to Velaris.

Your feelings for Rhysand never faded, much to your dismay. You were tired of your heart wanting him, needing him. He never gave any hint he saw you in the same way, and you knew you had to give it up. Yet everytime you tried to look to another or brought a male to your bed, you would always end up thinking of him.

Azriel knew of your feelings and teased you endlessly about it. Usually you just rolled your eyes at him, but as time went on the more wound up you became. You felt him move closer to you on the sofa you were perched on, bowing his head to whisper in your ear.

“Have you thought about making him jealous?” He muttered, warm breath tickling your neck. You shook your head slightly, confused by what he meant. “Who’s to say he would even care?” You whispered back, casting a sad glance over to where Rhysand sat with Cassian. “It’s worth a try. You’ve done everything else. Maybe he needs to think you’ve lost interest.” He spoke as you looked at him. “How would I convince him of that?” you asked quietly, eyes searching Azriels. He leaned in close again, a sudden shiver reaching down your spine as his lips touched your ear.

“Pretend to date me.”

***

You played Azriels plan over and over in your head, pacing in your room. You two were the closest out of everyone, so it wouldn’t be much of a shock if you seemingly started to share affections. There was a good chance Rhysand wouldn’t even care, and where would that leave you and Azriel? When you brought this up, he laughed and said it wouldn’t be hard to pose an amicable “break up”. If it didn’t work, maybe it would be the realization you needed to take your attentions off Rhys. There were many beautiful males in Velaris, you were certain your heart could latch onto one if it would just accept that Rhys didn’t want you.

You slept terribly, tossing and turning as you went over the pros and the cons. In the end you decided it was worth trying. Either you get the man of your dreams, or you can finally move on from him. Azriel was your closest friend and you knew he would play his role perfectly and make you feel comfortable. When the morning came you caught Azriel before breakfast, telling him you agreed to his plan. You did not like the way his eyes lit up at that.

You entered the kitchen together, ready to grab some food after a long night. As you reached for a piece of toast, you felt a hand settle onto the small of your back. Azriel reached around you, grabbing some for himself as he ducked his head to whisper “The plan starts now,” before pressing the lightest kiss to your cheek. Your skin heats up on contact, not used to receiving affection like this. You give a small nod as you finish grabbing your food and go to sit. Azriel sits down next to you, as he usually does. However, he scoots his chair the tiniest bit closer to you, catching the eyes of Cassian. He refrains from saying anything, instead looking at the two of you curiously.

The rest of breakfast proceeds as normal and you start to get used to the game. At training Azriel allows his hands to linger on you longer than usual, stands closer than he normally does, and whispers his instructions in your ears. You allow soft smiles and slightly pink cheeks to show, leaning into his touch on more than one occasion. Enough for the others to be interested, but not enough for anyone to say anything. Yet.

The next few days pass much the same, and you know your friends are dying to hound you with questions. Out of respect for Azriel they seem to round themselves in, not wanting to ambush you guys quite yet. As the week ends it is decided to go out and spend some time together. It had been quite a while since all of you had a nice night.

You got dressed, thumbing through the dresses Mor tends to shower you with. You pull one out, a stunning midnight blue number. You loved the feeling of the material on your skin as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was in an elegant updo, your makeup perfectly done to highlight the best features of your face, and the dress….it was everything. It sat off the shoulder as it trailed down your body, every step making the fabric shimmer. There were two slits on both sides leading up to the tops of your thighs. You nearly looked the poster child for Night Court fashion.

When you met the others downstairs Mor looked over you appreciatively, grabbing the dress in her hands. “It’s perfect!!” she squealed, pulling you farther into the group. Cassian gave a whistle as you spun, throwing your head back with laughter. Suddenly warm hands appeared on your waist, squeezing lightly. You turn to Azriel, who has a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Beautiful.” Is all he says as you smile up at him. You look over his black attire and could say the same. You hear a small cough and look to see Rhys, staring at you with an unreadable expression. “I think we should go,” he says, perhaps a bit cooly. Azriel wraps you in his arms as you fly down to the glittering city below.

***

As nights with the Inner Circle tend to go, you ended up filing into Rita’s. You let the music wash over you as you take a shot from Mor, quickly downing it. Rhysand acted completely normal at dinner, and has already gone to find a female to entertain him here. You were a little dismayed, but you weren’t going to let that ruin your evening. You settled into the normal booth you all took as Azriel slid in next to you. Mor and Cassian left to get more shots, and Azriel quickly pulled you onto his lap. You let out a gasp at his actions, moving to get off. His hands tightened on you as he murmured , “We need to up it a little. He almost seemed jealous before he left, didn’t he?”. You nodded before settling more into Azriels grasp. Soon Mor and Cassian were back, with Rhys not far behind. They all looked at you before looking at each other, eyes glittering as they shared a common thought.

You took shot after shot, desperately wanting to forget everything. Rhysand kept ignoring you and too many beautiful females were coming to the table. Eventually he seemed to tire a little of this, and turned to the group. “A game?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Mor laughed and Cassian banged his hand on the table, always ready for some friendly competition. You couldn’t help but wish Amren was here, she was excellent at beating them in any sort of game.

“Truth or Drink!” Cassian yelled, ever the young boy you had first met. You rolled your eyes but nodded, noticing Azriels hand start tracing the skin on your calf. You thought nothing of it until you felt him place a light kiss to your shoulder, sending chills over your skin. You turn to him with a smile, muttering “What are you doing?” through your teeth. He leaned down and placed a kiss right under your ear, squeezing your waist with one hand as you gave a small gasp. “Making him jealous” he stated, bringing his hand up a little higher and adding another kiss to your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the others, trying to not react to Azriels touch.

Almost immediately Cassian and Mor got in an argument about his question to her, turning all attention to them. Azriels hands slid higher and higher as he softly caressed the middle of your thigh. He began pressing more kisses to your neck, the hand on your thigh drawing circles on your skin. His teeth drug across the soft skin of your neck as you let your head fall back. You were struggling to focus on the game or on your friends. You knew this wasn’t real, that you weren’t supposed to be feeling like this. You hoped Azriel thought you were just playing along and that he didn’t realize the heat radiating from you.

That is until his hand traveled high enough he could feel the slickness that had traveled down your thigh. Until he lightly sucked the skin under your ear and you gave him a small moan. He stopped everything he was doing, his hand gripping tight on your thigh. You pulled your head up to look at him with wide eyes, but he was looking elsewhere. You followed his gaze to…Rhysand. You locked eyes with Rhys, shocked by the anger and jealousy in them. You genuinely didn’t believe this plan would work, but it seems it is. “If you two are done fucking each other in front of us, we have a game to get to,” he spat out. Your face flushed red as you readjusted on Azriel. His hand stayed on your thigh as the night went on, but he didn’t move again.

***

The next morning you lay awake in your bed. You were thinking about how Rhys seemed jealous, and that maybe this plan wasn’t totally irrational. However you were also thinking about the feeling of Azriels hands and lips on your skin, a burning in your stomach as you remembered. You ran your hands over your eyes and tried to forget how good he felt touching you. You jumped into a cold bath, forcing all hot thoughts away from you. This was all a game to get Rhysands attention. Azriel did not even like you like that. You needed to get over the way he made you feel.

Over the next few days you and Azriel fell back into your plan, lingering touches and longing gazes. Nothing like that night at Rita’s though. You felt a gnawing in your gut as you realized that made you a little upset. You leaned against a cold wall in the hallway, trying to calm your racing mind.

You heard footsteps coming towards you and you shot your eyes open. You relaxed a little to see it was Azriel. That relaxed feeling quickly changed as he slid is body in front of yours and pressed you back into the wall. Your arms shot to his chest, moving to push him away. He locked his hands on your waist before dipping down and biting under your ear. Your mouth dropped open and he whispered “He’s coming this way. Play along.” You nodded before he began kissing and sucking on your neck, one hand sliding under your shirt. Your hands gripped onto his clothes as you moved your neck to give him more room. His lips were bruising on your skin and you felt that familiar heat rise in your core. His hand traveled across your stomach, tracing the soft skin there. He gave a particularly harsh suck on the spot where your neck met your collarbone and you arched into him. His hand started playing with your waistband, almost begging to go down.

“Azriel..” you breathed, body on fire from his touch. You felt him smile on your skin before his fingers dipped lower. Your heart rate quickened, unsure how far you would take this game. You were scared when you realized you didn’t want him to stop. His fingers found you over your underwear, pressing down onto that bundle of nerves. You arched into him again as you moaned out his name, forgetting where you are and why you are doing this. His head comes up to look at you, his eyes full of heat. He presses again to hear you make that delicious noise for him. He bends his head to hover his lips over yours, beginning to slide your underwear out of the way. Everything is on fire, you can’t handle this teasing, you don’t want to wait for him anymore-

“What is going on here?”

Azriel lets out a low growl of frustration as he pulls away from you, glaring at Rhysand. You straighten your shirt and glance over too, shocked by the anger in his eyes. “What does it matter to you?” Azriel asked coldly. Your eyes couldn’t decide which of the men to look at as you observed the situation in front of you. Rhys scoffed as he said “I’m just not interested in watching you whore yourself out around my home.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, mortified at what he had said. Azriel stiffened as he spoke, “That’s enough. We weren’t doing anything wrong. Do not act as though you are so much better, High Lord.” Rhysands hands clenched into fists as he stared Azriel down, his dark power beginning to fill the hall. You found yourself reaching out to grab onto Azriels arm as the darkness got closer. An action Rhys did not miss. “What would he have to offer that I do not?” he spat. You immediately noticed the hurt come across Azriel and the regret that passed through Rhysands face as he realized what was said. You didn’t want to hear this anymore. You pulled Azriel back down the hall, away from the ashamed shape of Rhysand.

***

It had been a month since that incident. Azriel left Velaris to train in the mountains and Rhys avoided you completely. Mor and Cassian tried their best to keep you occupied, but everyone could feel the tension. No one knew what had happened between you three and no one was brave enough to ask. Only Amren had rolled her eyes about it and muttered something about “incompetent men and their emotions”.

You were curled up in one of the chairs in the small library of the house when you felt eyes on you. You looked around to find Rhysand standing there. You noticed that the little skip your heart usually does was absent. “I have come to apologize.” He said softly, hands in his pockets. “I’ve noticed how you look at me over these years and I grew to accept it as fact. It was harder than I expected to find you with Az. I didn’t mean what I said. It was unfair to you. I am truly sorry.” He spared a glance up at you to gauge how you felt. You looked at him with tired eyes. “I longed after you for so many years, Rhys. I tried to pretend I didn’t want you and failed everytime. It wasn’t until Az that I began to realize there may be someone else for me. It didn’t start off real. All I ever wanted was to be enough for you.” Your words faltered on that last sentence. You caught Rhys’ surprised expression as he came closer and grabbed your hands. “You were always enough.” He whispered, sinking to his knees in front of you. “I am so sorry. I took advantage of your feelings. I liked how you quietly sought after me. I should never have let it go on so long.” He pressed a kiss to your hands before laying his head on them.

You pulled one hand out of his grasp to thread your fingers through his hair. “Rhys,” you sighed softly, “it is not just me who needs your apology. What you said to Azriel was very wrong and you know it. You need to find him and convince him to come home. Please.” He looked up at you, his eyes lined with tears. He nodded as he stood, releasing your hand. “You’re right. I will not be the one to destroy this family. Not over who you choose to love.” He began to walk away, preparing to find Azriel. “Rhys,” you called after him, “tell him to find me when he is back. We have much to discuss.”

***

A few days later you were relaxing in your bath when your door crashed open. You jumped and looked to see Azriel standing in the pieces of your bathroom door. You guessed Rhys and him got their emotions out, as he had bruises on his face and arms. Yet his eyes shone brightly. Especially as he realized the predicament you were in.

He walked over to you without hesitation and plucked you out of the bath. You squealed in protest but quickly hushed when he placed you on your vanity and stood between your legs. His eyes burned over your body. You felt that heat curl around you again as his hands gripped onto your thighs. “You told me to find you.” He spoke, eyes locking with yours. All you could do was nod, not quite having words to use at the moment. “What is it, my little bird? What do you need?” His words dropped to a deadly whisper as he leaned in close. Your eyes widened when his hand moved to cup your heat. “A-Az,” you stuttered out, mind going blank. “Tell me what you need.” He growled, letting his fingers gently explore you. You let out a frustrated moan and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear.

“Touch me Azriel.”

That was all it took for his fingers to plunge into you, causing your back to arch against the mirror behind you. His mouth caught yours, the action making you gasp. He took advantage of that to slide his tounge into yours and explore. He broke away to continue kissing down your neck, down your chest. His fingers curled in you, hitting that perfect spot that sent lighting down your back. Within seconds his mouth was on your thighs, working his way to you. He pulled you to the edge of the vanity and licked up your folds. You grabbed his hair and moaned his name, so close to your finish. The second his lips attached to your bud your eyes rolled back in your head, wave after wave of pleasure coating you. He devoured you through it, not stopping once the pleasure had subsided. He continued to increase everything he was doing until another orgasm washed over you with a scream. Only then did he pause, but only long enough to pull you down and turn you to face the mirror.

“I want you to watch how well you take me.” He says into your ear, pulling himself out. You tried to turn and look but he forced your head back towards the mirror, making you take in the sight before you. You looked at yourself, at the bruising marks leading down your body from his mouth, at the handprints on your thighs from his grip. You saw your flushed face and swollen lips, looking fucked out. You looked up to see Azriels reflection, his eyes a burning fire, his lips wet with you. A shudder passed through your body at the enticing sight of him. You felt him slide his tip through your wet folds, preparing to slide into you. Carefully he pushed in and you saw your mouth create a perfect “o” at the sensation. He was bigger than anyone you had ever taken before. Inch by inch he slid in until you were perfectly seated on him. He put his hands on yours on the tabletop, pressing them down. His lips met your neck, pressing harsh bites down. “Watch as I make you forget any other male exists.” He growls, thrusting in and out of you. You are so sensitive after two orgasms that the pleasure takes root instantly. Moan after moan slide past your lips as Azriel takes you as his. One hand slides up to find your most sensitive place again, rubbing small circles. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.” He commands as his actions speed up. You feel that all too familiar tightening in your belly as you squeeze down on him, tears flowing at the overstimulation. Azriel gives you a soft kiss on your cheek, never ceasing his thrusting. “Such a good girl for me. You can give me one more, my perfect girl. One more.” He whispers against your skin. You want to say you don’t think you have any more in you when he adjusts and hits the perfect spot inside of you. You scream again, fingernails digging into the table. You feel Azriel speed up and his fingers connect to you again. He bites down on your shoulder as he hits that perfect spot inside again and you let go for a fourth time. You yelling his name and squeezing around him has him finish deep, letting out a roar as he emptied himself in you.

The room is quiet aside from the sounds of your heavy breathing. You are certain if Azriel backs away you will collapse to the ground. He slowly pulls out and you let out a soft whine at the emptiness you feel. He gently scoops you up and runs a fresh bath. Within minutes he is fully undressed and in the bath with you, cradling your body to his. He washes your sore skin, paying close attention to the marks he left on you. You could fall asleep right there, with his hands massaging your body and your back against his chest. Az notices and takes great care pulling you out with him, bundling you in a warm towel. He carries you to your bed and slides under the covers with you. You curl up into his chest, feeling more calm and sated than you had in centuries.

***

You half expected it to be a dream. The first thing you notice when you wake up is Azriel still holding you tight. The second thing you notice is how deliciously sore your body is. Heat curls up through you again at the feeling, and Azriel stirs. His eyes open slowly and he looks down at you. He reaches up to push your hair out of your face before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Good morning my sweet girl.” he says, kissing you again. “Good morning Az.” you mumble back before grabbing his mouth again. You groan in frustration as he pulls away and laughs. “We have to talk about it.” He points out, and you’d rather him just take you again.

You roll onto your back and let out a breath before saying, “I know.” You turn to look at him again and pause to collect your thoughts. “I do not want this to be a game, Az. I do not care about Rhysand. The only male I can think of is you. It has been this way since this all started. You have been here the whole time and I was too busy pining after someone who would never want me to notice it. I want to be with you, Az. I want it to be you and me.” You start off confident, but your words lose the feeling as you go on. You look at him without breathing, afraid of what he may say. Instead, he pulls you close to him and says;

“Why do you think I came up with this plan in the first place?”

****

Thank you for reading! I’d love to know what you all think and please send any requests you have for other stories! <3

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Tear stained pillow case

Pairings- Drew Starkey x Fem!reader

Summary- reader is in a long distance relationship with Drew and the constant shipping of him with his cast mate (Odessa) and hate get to her.

Warnings- Angst, yelling, swearing, a smidge of domestic abuse, cheating.

A/n: to the anon who requested a sad Drew fic, I’m sorry this isn’t the best. I hope I kind of got what you were looking for but I need to work on my angst! Please send me a message when you read this xxx

“YOU, you can’t keep going on like this?!” You shouted; anger bled through your veins. You felt sick, the bile rising in your throat. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me!”.

The nerve of your boyfriend, he spends months away from home. Spends every waking minute with his co-star Odessa, he kisses his co-star off screen and he’s the one who can’t keep going on?!

“Yes Y/N” Drew begins to argue, you cut him off by throwing his pillow at him. He doesn't even flinch, his face screwed up in anger. “No Drew, I’m not fucking done” you yell, you look crazy.

You look like the crazy jealous girlfriend his fans had painted you out to be, and you had every right to be.

“You don’t get to put this shit on me Drew, YOU KISSED HER!”.

-Previously-

You couldn’t take it anymore; his face was all over your FYP. You were stupid enough to create a TikTok account, scrolling endlessly and searching the tags for your boyfriend Drew.

You knew what you would see, thirst traps and edits of him and his cast mate Odessa. Edits of the sex scenes they had to film, everyone shipping them together. You were trying to make yourself hurt, you sat there reading the comments. Reading the hateful things they said about you, the words cutting you like tiny knives.

Ugly

Not good enough for Drew

She’s not even famous

Fat

You were ugly crying at this point, unsure why you put yourself through the pain day in day out. Drew had told you a handful of times not to go searching for these things, to pretend like the fans didn’t exist.

But how could he expect you to pretend? He was famous and there was no hiding it. He had been away for 3 months now; you had a routine of face timing every night around 6pm, but tonight was different. He had an event. An event with Odessa.

“GOD Y/N! What are you doing?!” You shouted, staring up at the ceiling. You roughly rubbed your face, your mascara smearing under your eyes. The tears didn’t stop falling down your cheeks. “STOP!” You ordered yourself, but it only made it worse.

Hyperventilating at this stage, gripping the blankets under you. Pressing your face into the white pillowcase, you were pathetic. A pathetic mess. You were so glad Drew was 12 hours away, there was no chance he’d walk through the doors and see you right now.

You hated that you were being so jealous, you knew he loved you. He adored you. Whenever someone tries to hint at him and Odessa in interviews, he always mentions you, you’re all over his Instagram.

You had never met Odessa; you never had the opportunity to. You did think that meeting her might make you feel less jealous, seeing how they act together in person and not from stupid TikTok clips that were edited purely to make people think they were together.

Your phone ringing cuts your crying short, you sit up quickly and reached for your phone. Seeing his face flash on the screen had you nervous, your skin clammy and heart racing.

You wiped away as much mascara as possible and dimmed the bedside lamp, pressing answer on the screen. His smile appearing on your screen moments later, he was in dark room with a small yellow overhead light.

“Hi baby” he grinned; you could see the glimmer in his eyes. You wanted to burst out crying again but instead you dig your fingernails in your thigh and gave him a fake smile. “Hey baby” you whispered, worried your voice would be husky from all the screaming and crying.

“Why is it so dark?” He questioned, his eyes darting around the screen as though he was trying to look over your shoulder. You shrugged and moved to lay on your stomach. “Going to bed early” your voice cracked, and you quickly hid it behind a cough, you could see a shift in his face.

“What’s wrong babe?” He questions, his eyebrows crease together. He looks over his phone for a second and mouths ‘hold on’ and his eyes dart back to you on the screen. “Nothing, I’m okay. You need to go babe, we can talk later” you smile, brushing him off, you wanted to go back to your sob fess.

“Your lying” he states, his features have hardened. You know he doesn’t like it when you keep things from him, he likes you to be open about your feelings. But right now, you didn’t have the energy to discuss why you were spending your Saturday night crying in bed at 6pm.

“Babe, we can talk about it when your home” “No, tell me now”

“Drew!” His eyes dart over his phone again and he lets out an exasperated sigh, he runs his hand over his face and squeezes the bridge of him nose.

It’s as though you can see the tension building in his shoulder blades, you so badly wanted to be there to offer him comfort. You wanted to be the one to rub his shoulders and whisper ‘you got this’

“Okay, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow”.

He ends the call without an I love you, that just sets you off again and you spend the next 2 hours crying your eyes out until you pass out against his pillow.

—-

When you awaken the next morning, you’ve rolled over onto Drew’s side of the bed. Squeezing his pillow tightly against your body. Breathing in his scent that barely lingered anymore.

“Such a loser” you mumble to yourself; you reach for your phone that’s hidden under the blankets.

No notifications

You let out a defeated sigh and make yourself get ready for the day; you had planned to clean the apartment. Drew would be home in a few days, and you wanted him to come home to some normality.

And that’s exactly how you spent your Sunday, cleaning and staying off your phone. It was much harder to do the latter, you were itching to call Drew.

You usually sent texts back and forth every day, sent a couple of pics and just tried not to go crazy without one another. You had hoped listening to music and keeping you busy would stop the incessant thoughts that were flying around your head.

But you found yourself battling with your thoughts more than listening to the music. By the time nightfall came you had scrubbed every corner of the apartment. You had lit a candle in the living room and taken a seat when your phone lit up, the music travelling through the empty room.

You answer, plastering a smile on your face. He gives you a soft smile, he’s dressed in a green button up. The button up you had brought him for his birthday, you loved that colour oh him.

“Hey babe” you both say at the same time, letting out a chuckle at the two of you being awkward around each other. “How are you?” You ask, eyes flickering around the screen.

You can’t see much from where he is sat, you can hear voices and assume he’s just got back from the poguelandia event. You don’t even realise he hasn’t answered, too focused on who’s voice you can hear so close to the phone.

That’s when you look back at him, he’s not even looking at the phone. He’s looking over it again, mourning something and rolling his eyes.

“Why are you acting strange?”

“I’m not?”

“Okay.. why do you keep looking over the phone?”

“Oh, just watching something”

I’m that moment you knew something was going on, Drew always gave you his undivided attention even when he was mad. You didn’t like this, it made you feel sick again.

You were so sick of feeling unwell and anxious. “I’m going to bed”

Drew nods his head and finally looks at you, you press the end call button. You didn’t want to look at his face, you didn’t want to hear his voice. You wouldn’t be able to handle not hearing I love you back. It was easier this way.

You don’t know why you do it, but you don’t go to bed. Instead, you go searching on tiktok again. And that’s where you see it, the videos from poguelandia.

How close he and Odessa are, the way she dances with him. The whispering, the walking close together. You knew it, you just needed confirmation. He liked her, he didn’t want to be with you anymore and that’s why he’s distancing himself.

The tears don’t come though, your body seems to go into denial. Your stomach still unsettled, and your mouth feels dry but you place your phone on the counter and stare at the wall.

- 2 days dater -

“Hey, babe” you’re aroused from sleep, somebody shaking your arms. You jump, gripping the blankets around your chest. “Oh, it’s you”.

“Don’t seem so happy to see me?”

You don’t answer him, instead you stare at him. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed; he smells like the cologne you had brought him for his birthday.

He showered and is dressed in jeans and an oversized white shirt, hair a little messy since he’s growing it out for a project. “I missed you” Drew smiles, it’s a fake smile. You can tell them apart now.

He moves to give you a kiss, but you press your palm to his shoulder, giving your head a small shake.

You’re not dressed for an argument, so you pull yourself to stand and grab an oversized shirt. Not really sure if it’s one of yours or Drew’s but it really didn’t matter at the time.

“What’s wrong babe?” He questions, pulling himself to stand. He towers over you, making you feel small. The tough exterior you had been working on, crumbling slowly.

“Stop calling me babe... just, tell me the truth Drew”.

You don’t even need to clarify what you’re talking about; he runs a palm down his face. He begins to pace the bedroom floor; you had hoped he would deny it.

“I knew it”.

“It was a kiss” Drew states, your heart breaks. You feel as though you can physically hear the cracking of your heart, the bile rises in your throat and the tears pierce your tear ducts begging to be released.

“W-what?” You whisper, your voice wobbles. Your hands shaking as you move to hold yourself against the desk chair. You needed stability or you’d fall to your knees.

“I kissed Odessa, the night of poguelandia���

Your nails carve deep crescent moons into the wooden chair, your chest rising and falling heavier as you try to calm yourself down.

You can’t let yourself fall apart in front of him, he didn’t deserve to see you crumble.

“What the fuck Drew?” You yell, but your voice cracks and you slam your palm over your mouth to stop the hysterics from starting.

Turning your body so you’re not looking at him as the tears cascade down the apples of your cheeks, biting harshly on the skin of your lip. The familiar metallic taste fill your senses.

“It meant nothing”

“FUCK OFF with it meant nothing, why did you do it then?!”

This just seems to set him off, igniting something inside of him that he’s been holding onto for a long time. He’s stepping towards you and you’re taking steps back.

You’re back meeting the wall as he towers over you once more, making you feel smaller than you were. “Because Y/N, you’ve been acting weird. You’ve been distant and quiet; you’ve been making me feel bad for having a career”.

His voice is low and threatening, his hand hits at the wall behind you. You push on his chest, making him stumble back slightly.

“No Drew, I would NEVER make you feel bad for your career choice. However, I would distance myself so that I wasn’t sitting at home crying over you every night, missing you. Wishing I was with you, do you know how hard it is for me?!” You cry, you poke at his chest with your pointer finger. His larger hand grabbing yours to stop you from doing it.

You fight against him until he drops your hand, and you step away from him, your cheeks burnt red with frustration.

“How hard you’ve got it? What about me Y/N? Why is it always about you? I’m the one having to leave, do you know how hard that is on me?”

You shake your head, of course he was turning this all back around to the two of your issues. Acting as though kissing Odessa was okay, that it was just something he needed to do to forget about the issue at home.

“Don’t, don’t bring up all this. You kissed another woman; this is on you. Yea we have problems, every couple does. Yeah, we all have it hard, doesn’t make it okay for you to kiss your co-star” you shout.

You grab your phone; you don’t know why you want to add fuel to the fire. You’re on tiktok before you can rationalise with your brain, the second you’re on the app. The videos are there waiting.

“You see the shit that I have to deal with, go on, watch it”.

You throw the phone across the bed, his eyes falling to the screen of the iPhone. The video loops over the two of them dancing and whispering at the event, you can see him swallow harshly.

“This is a fan editing videos- “Drew begins to argue, and you let out a grunt of frustration, running your hands through your messy bed head.

“I can’t keep going on like this”

“YOU, you can’t keep going on like this?!” You shouted; anger bled through your veins. You felt sick, the bile rising in your throat. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me!”.

The nerve of your boyfriend, he spends months away from home. Spends every waking minute with his co-star Odessa, he kisses his co-star off screen and he’s the one who can’t keep going on?!

“Yes Y/N” Drew begins to argue, you cut him off by throwing his pillow at him. He doesn't even flinch, his face screwed up in anger. “No Drew, I’m not fucking done” you yell, you look crazy.

You knew you looked like the crazy jealous girlfriend his fans had painted you out to be, and you had every right to be. Your boyfriend of three years had kissed someone who wasn’t you and it wasn’t for a movie.

“You don’t get to put this shit on me Drew, YOU KISSED HER!” You cry, you can’t stop the tears now. You’re hyperventilating again, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes.

He’s stepping around the bed and pulling you against his chest, you want to fight against him. You want to tell him to get out of the apartment.

But you also want to beg him to stay, beg him to stop seeing Odessa. Beg him to start fresh with you, move on and be happy.

“This is the end, isn’t it?” He questions, you pull away from him slightly. Mascara pooling in your lower lashes, you probably should have washed that off before you went to bed.

“It has to be” you breath, tears begin to fall from his own eyes. This only makes you hysterical, sobbing into his chest as he holds you tighter. You don’t even want him to let go.

“I’ll always love you Y/N, I’ll always think about you when I walk past a bookstore or see those fancy chocolate donuts in the bakery down town” he whispers, his lips are pressed against your hair. His grip is tight around your body, he doesn’t want to let go either.

“I was lucky enough to love you, I’ll always remember that” You whisper, tears fall harder as you look at one another.

“Oh.. if we are doing the right thing, why does it hurt so much?”

“I don’t know”

His thumb wipes away the tears on your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours. You let him kiss you one last time. His lips are soft, and they feel like they always do, they were made for you.

“I should go... I’m so sorry Y/N, truly so sorry”.

You watch him leave, you wait for the front door to close and that’s when you let yourself fall. Knees meeting the hardwood floor, the draft from under the bedroom door kiss your toes. You let out a gut-wrenching sob, praying he would come back and fight.

Taglist- @novxturient @kookypogue111

Part 2

[yoongiseesawmp3]

get you, pt2 - seungcheol (m)

summary: neighbor!seungcheol. after your first date with cheol, you just keep falling harder. you start sharing more and more of your life with him, opening up your heart and home to the prince charming from across the hall. 

word count: 12.2k (part two/?) part one

warnings: afab reader (some gendered terms), nsfr (not safe for ramadan), cussing, smut!!!! fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sappy lovey dovey sex

of course your first date with cheol was perfect. he was a complete gentleman, buying your dinner and waiting patiently at the record store after while you searched through all the new and old releases. he even carried all of your picks just for you to give up half of them because you decided “i don’t need all these albums” right before you checked out. 

even though that was your first date with cheol, it didn’t seem like a first date at all. usually you’re on edge trying to make a good impression while deciding whether you like the guy or not, but this was the easiest date you’ve ever been on. the hard part was ending it. cheol came back to your apartment after, helping you organize your vinyls and cds by your meticulous standards. after teasing you endlessly for your filing system that makes no sense (it’s based on vibes) cheol asked if you had anything to drink, and once again you find yourselves sitting entirely too close and sharing a glass. you put on one of the vinyls you just bought before you sat down, and you sit together in comfortable silence as it plays softly. when it’s time to flip, cheol gets up and does it for you, coming back to sit even closer than he was before with his arm around your shoulders. you’re snug in the corner of your couch, but you shift to try and give cheol more room. instead he just lifts your legs in one arm and drapes them over his lap, comfortably resting his hand on your thigh after.

“this ok?” he asks, looking at you to confirm.

“it’s nice,” you tell him, and he squeezes your thigh in agreement. “what do you think of the album?”

“it’s good,” he nods. “now i understand why you wanted this on your chill shelf and not the funk shelf.”

“it’s chill funk,” you joke, “and that’s too niche for it’s own shelf. but it’s more chill than anything else so it makes sense.”

“or you could just do it by, i don’t know, the alphabet?” cheol asks, holding back a smile.

“that’s boring,” you pout. 

“oh, baby thinks being logical is boring?” cheol pouts back, and you admire his lips for a moment before it clicks: you could just kiss him. you’ve done it before, and you did just go on a date with the man. instead of daydreaming about a kiss, you could just...lean forward and press your lips to his. you sigh into his mouth when your lips connect, and he holds you by the thighs tighter. your hands drape over his broad shoulders, angling him more towards you so it’s easier for you to run your lips over his. you pull back slightly to catch your breath, but cheol’s lips chase yours, still perfectly pouted and an even brighter shade of cherry red than before. you knock your forehead into his, giggling, and he laughs too, asking, “what’s wrong with you? that wasn’t funny.”

“no,” you say, calming your laughs. “i just..can’t really believe i did that. can’t believe we went on a date.”

“neither can i, honestly,” cheol says, and you pull back completely to look at him fully. “well, i mean, i knew it would happen eventually,” he continues. “because i knew i wanted to ask you out. i just didn’t expect you to make the first move.”

“hey!”

“sorry babe,” he shrugs. “but really, next time you wanna go out, just ask me, no need for an elaborate story-”

“that’s it, i’m calling vernon,” you say as you reach for your phone, “i need him to clear my name.” 

“did you tell him we went out anyway?” cheol asks casually, and you stop. “you didn’t, did you?”

“no,” you shake your head sheepishly, and cheol smiles at you. “honestly i didn’t want to be distracted by him teasing me while we were on our date.”

“understandable,” cheol nods. “when i told mingyu we were finally going out i actually had to put my phone on dnd. otherwise gyu would’ve blown it up.”

“god, he’s gonna feel like he made this happen,” you groan, head falling into the crook of cheol’s neck. he smiles at the ticklish feeling of your breath hitting his skin, but he doesn’t ask you to move. “you know, now that i think about it, we have really annoying friends.”

“yeah,” cheol sighs. “but they mean well.”

“whatever,” you reply, closing your eyes to enjoy this moment. the warmth of cheol around you, his scent encasing you with every breath, and the music...it had turned off. when did that happen? you pick your head up and look at your record player and, yep, totally still. 

seungcheol watches your eyes and picks up on your train of thought, saying, “it turned off a while ago. guess we didn’t really notice.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the unspoken issue between you now is: who’s going to make the first move to get up? and what happens then? usually cheol just goes home once it’s too late, but you’re dating now, right? so, should you ask him to stay? as always, it’s like he was reading your mind, and he says, “i guess i should go.”

“really?” you ask, your head back on his shoulder looking at him with pleading eyes. “but i’m comfy.”

“yeah, but i’m about to fall asleep,” he laughs, “and you don’t want to be stuck under me when that happens.”

“or do i?” you counter, and a flicker of something crosses his eyes that you can’t read. “i wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch though.”

“noted,” he says quietly, holding your gaze for a moment longer. he squeezes your thigh again, but this time moves you off his lap carefully. “but i should really go back.”

“o-ok,” you say, holding back a yawn as you watch cheol grab his things. “want me to walk you so you don’t get lost?”

“no,” he laughs, “but cmere.”

“what?” you ask, a small smile on your face as you get up and meet him at the door. he wraps an arm around your waist, bringing you close to him as he dips down to kiss you one more time. your eyes flutter closed, and you stay like that long after he pulls away.

“night darling,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your cheek. you open the door for him and watch him cross the hall, leaning on your door with a hand on your cheek where he kissed you. cheol looks back and gives a small wave before he disappears behind his door, and you close your own and smile happily to yourself, realizing that warm feeling in your chest might be here to stay. 

- 

everything about cheol is easy. going on a date with him was easy. kissing him was easy. finding little things that make you realize you’re falling in love with him, that was easy too. 

while your feelings for cheol have been brewing since you met him, the first time you thought this might be love was a couple days after your first date. you were coming home from work, tired and stressed, and you had the scare of your life when you opened the door to your apartment. laid out on your couch, asleep with a book held tightly to his chest, was seungcheol. you yelped a little when you saw the surprise waiting for you, and fred stirs first from his spot by cheol’s feet. his movement wakes your visitor, and he sits up slowly to find you staring at him with confusion and a little fear in your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, still out of it.

“um? what are you doing here? how’d you get inside?” you ask nervously. “your couch isn’t doing it for you, had to come in here and use mine?”

“oh,” he yawns, sitting up slowly and messing with his mussed hair. if you weren’t so startled you’d be cooing over how cute he looks, but your heart is still slowing from the fright he gave you. “sorry, i should’ve texted you but i didn’t want to worry you at work.”

“what happened?” you ask as you join him on the couch, and his arm wraps around you out of habit. “did someone break in?”

“no, but they could have,” cheol eyes you with a hint of annoyance. “i came back from my run right after you left for work, and i guess fred heard me thinking you were back home so he was whining pretty loud. i almost texted you then, asking if i could come get your keys so i could check on him, but i tried your door and somebody-” a light flick to your forehead “-forgot to lock up before they left.”

“oops?” you try, and when cheol continues looking at you with a hint of disappointment you try rubbing the spot he flicked. “also ouch.”

“oh you’re fine,” he says quickly, kissing the spot on your forehead he flicked. “anyway, i opened the door and fred had gotten sick in the kitchen. i took him out and he was sick again, so i just stayed over here to keep an eye on him. he’s been fine since. did he eat anything weird last night?”

“not that i know of,” you reply, watching cheol closely. “i can’t believe you risked breaking and entering charges for me.”

“it was for fred.”

“well he’s basically my son, so,” you say, trying to hide your smile. “thank you baby, i’m glad he’s got you looking out for him.”

“baby?” cheol smiles. “i don’t think you’ve called me that before.” 

“thought i’d give it a try,” you explain. “figure i’ll have to work my way up to calling you sweetcheeks.” 

“you can call me sweetcheeks now,” he says with a smirk, pushing his cheeks up as he continues, “i mean i am pretty sweet.”

“those aren’t the cheeks i’m talkin about,” you joke, pulling his hands from his face as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. cheol falls back into the couch with a loud laugh, and you kick your feet up onto the couch so you can lean back with him and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“never mind, never call me that please.”

“too bad sweetcheeks, already changed your contact in my phone to it.”

-

even though that wasn’t the first time cheol had shown you he cared for you deeply, it was the first time it made you feel safe with him. protected. looked after. knowing you had cheol, and he had you, that meant the world. so seeing first hand what lengths he was willing to go for you planted that seed telling you this might just be love. for cheol, it was a different story. 

a few days after cheol’s breaking and entering, he had told you he might be a little busier than usual because of school, so you agreed to have a week to yourselves. mostly. just because you didn’t have time for each other doesn’t mean you won’t find ways to sneak over to his to have coffee with him in the morning, or he won’t stop by once he hears you get home from work just for a quick kiss and to hear how your day was. this week was hard though, cheol had his own school stuff to handle with assignments and ta work, but he also had a bunch of music lessons to prepare for because of end of year concerts. he was out of his apartment from sun up to sun down it seemed, and you knew he wouldn’t have time to take care of himself.

all week you tried to figure out the pattern of when cheol would get back home so that you could surprise him on friday. once it got close, you kept the noise in your apartment to a minimum so you could hear cheol as soon as he got to his door. you had spent the night cooking for him, making sure he’d have a nice meal to help him refresh and get ready for what was probably going to be a stressful weekend too. the minute you heard his keys, you threw your door open, making him jump slightly. 

“y/n, hi,” he says, confused. “what are you doing up so late?”

“i’m a night owl, you should know this by now, baby,” you tell him. you almost get distracted by the way he’s dressed, obviously coming back from his ta job since’s in one of his nice button ups and another pair of slacks that highlight his juicy thighs. cheol watches as you practically drool over him, and he clears his throat to get your attention. 

“i feel like this is deja vu from the last time you saw me dressed like this,” he teases, bringing a blush to your cheeks. “what’s up my love?” 

not missing his new nickname for you, you tell him to wait there as you disappear to your kitchen to grab the food you’d made for him. while you were gone, fred sauntered up to the door and cheol crosses the hall to baby talk with him and scratch his ears, further endearing him for you when you return. 

“here,” you say, forcing the two dishes in your arms upon him. “the purple dish can go in the microwave, but heat the green one up in the oven for a few minutes.” you put your hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage to stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. “see you later, sweetcheeks. get some rest.”

“what?” cheol laughs slightly, looking down at the delicious food in his hands. “what is this?” 

“your dinner,” you respond. “i figured you haven’t eaten a healthy meal this week, so i made you one. there should be enough for you to have leftovers, unless you’re hungrier than i expected. anyway, it should take care of you for tonight at least.” 

“but,” he sputters, “you? did you eat?” 

“yes,” you nod, “those of us who finish work at a normal time tend to eat soon after.”

“smart ass,” he smiles, cocking his head toward his door. “come over and watch me eat then. i’ll give you a play by play of how amazing it is.” cheol crosses back to his door, looking back at you still standing at yours. “oh, unless you’re tired?”

“no,” you hesitate. “i just don’t want to bother you, you must be exhausted.”

“baby, come over,” cheol whines, his signature pout coming out. “i miss you, and we’re both gonna be up for a while anyway.” 

“well if you insist,” you say, about to close your door and join him.

“lock your door or so help me,” he laughs, pointing an accusing finger at you from underneath one of your dishes. you groan and say you’ll be over in a second, diving back into your apartment to find your god forsaken keys. 

“so you’re not tired?” you ask as you enter seungcheol’s apartment, closing (and locking) his door behind you. 

“hm, i was,” he starts from the kitchen, and when you walk in your find him with a spoon already stuffed in his mouth. “but i don’t know, some crazy person forced me to take food from them and now i feel fine.” 

“i can go back home-”

“no!” cheol shouts, grabbing you by the waist before you can make a move. “stay. for just a little bit. i’m making you a plate whether you like it or not.” 

“i already ate,” you assure him. 

“then i’ll just take what you don’t want,” he solves the problem easily, and you wrap your arms around him and lean into his chest as you wait for the food to finish.

“i missed you,” you mumble into his shirt, appreciating how it still smells like him even after a long day. “you shouldn’t work so much, because it wears you out, obviously, but i don’t think it’s fair for us to spend so much time apart all in the same week.” then, looking up at him with your chin still on his chest, “what if i forget what you look like?”

“then take a picture, darling,” he teases, booping your nose just before the microwave beeps. he pulls you off of him so he can take the food out, putting a healthy amount on both plates he’s got on the counter. you peek into the oven and check on the rest of the food, and you feel a hand graze your ass as seungcheol moves quietly behind you.

“hey!” you shout, “you touched my butt!” 

“huh?” he plays innocent. “wasn’t me, promise. i must have a ghost.”

“tell your ghost i’m taken,” you reply, looking for oven mitts. cheol reads your mind and hands you one from the drawer behind him, and you remove the second dish from the oven.

“about that,” cheol starts off, watching you give his plate more food than you put on yours. you turn around, handing him his plate, while you wait for him to go on. “can i start calling you my girlfriend?”

“yeah, i’ve been calling you my boyfriend,” you say simply, walking past him to hop up into one of the chairs at the bar on the other side of the kitchen. you watch him as you take a couple bites, hiding a smile as he opens his mouth in shock.

“who have you told?!”

“mostly vernon,” you reply. “but tahi and jen have asked, so i assume some of the guys have heard it too. wonwoo at least, not sure about gyu.” 

“so am i the last one to know about this?” he asks as he takes the empty seat next to you. 

“guess so, boyfriend,” you tell him, nudging his arm before you say, “now eat.”

in between bites, and telling you how great the food is, cheol tells you about his week. school was hard, being a ta was harder, but the highlights were his music lessons. he mostly does piano, which is easy for him he claims, but there’s a couple violin lessons he looks forward to more. there’s one kid though, a family friend he tells you, who wants to learn how to rap and produce. cheol lights up as he talks about him, and you watch fondly as he gets so excited over his little prodigy learning how to layer tracks or discovering what an 808 is. you’re interested in what he’s saying, really, but the late hour and your own hard work catches up to you and makes you yawn.

“you should go to sleep,” cheol says, finishing the last bite of food off your plate. “thank you for the food, my love. this made my week.”

“you’re welcome,” you reply with another yawn. “are you gonna head to bed too?”

“honestly, i’m not tired anymore,” cheol laughs, and you groan as you lean into his side. he uses his leg to bring your chair closer to his, finding your hands so he can play with your fingers. “guess all i needed was some time with my baby and i feel back to 100 percent.”

“while i think that’s very precious,” you start, “i’m upset i did this now because i know you probably won’t go to sleep for a while.”

“eh, it’s fine,” cheol shrugs. “it was worth it. i can always take a sleeping pill too, that’ll knock me out.” 

“you stay stocked up?” you joke, surprised that’s such a casual option for him but he nods before he explains. 

“i’ve got insomnia, so i use them every once in a while. i can’t go straight to sleep unless my body and mind are exhausted.” 

“so you haven’t used them this week i assume?” 

“no, i haven’t,” he laughs. “but it’s not a big deal if i use one tonight. i don’t feel like wearing myself out before bed so this is fine.” 

“what do you usually do?” you ask. “if you don’t wanna take a pill, i mean. how do you get yourself tired enough to go to sleep?”

“i’ll do a workout, or if it’s not too late i’ll go for a run,” he explains. “but mostly i work out. or uh, exhaust myself another way.” he clears his throat at that, grabbing your empty plates to take them to the sink. you watch as he washes them diligently, and you say something that gets drowned out by the water. “what was that babe?”

“if you ever need help, uh, wearing yourself out,” you say delicately, cheol smirking at you trying to be subtle about it. “if you ever need help i’m probably up. you could just, um, you could just call me. next time.”

“next time,” cheol says, almost like a question, and you nod. 

“yeah, next time.” 

“alright baby,” he smiles at you softly, his heart thudding in his chest as it hits him: he’s in love with you. he realizes he’s just been staring at you this whole time, and he clears his head by wiping the newly clean dishes off. “um, do you want your dishes back? i can-”

“keep em,” you shrug. “it’s not like i won’t be back over here soon.” 

“right,” he smiles, his heart pitter pattering softly. “want me to walk you home?”

“oh, so you can walk me home but i can’t walk you?” you scoff, and he just glides around the counter to grab your wrist and pull you toward the door anyway. he takes you back across the hall, tucking some hair behind your ear before he cups your face and kisses you goodnight. 

“night darling,” he says, sugar dripping from his voice. “and thank you, i loved this little surprise.”

“i’ll do it more often then,” you smile back at him, unlocking your door and waving before it closes behind you. 

-

that weekend, tahi and jen come over for a girls night, insisting you need it knowing how much you’ve worked lately. you neglect to tell seungcheol though, so when he finishes with his music lessons for the day he crosses the hall and knocks on your door as usual just to be met with screams to go away.

laughing, you answer the door, clad in what cheol notices is a brand new keroppi pajama set. as his eyes rake up your body, he smiles and you can see the beginnings of a joke forming on his lips when he notices the curlers in your hair.

“hey sexy,” he smiles wider, hand reaching up to play with a poor strand of neglected hair hanging by itself. “you missed a spot.”

“do not mock me,” you warn him, finger not so threateningly pressed into his chest. “i can never reach the back of my head so the girls are helping me.”

“you know i could help you?” cheol laughs. “i’m your boyfriend, i think that’s within my official capacity.”

“yeah, but if i let you see me getting ready like this then it ruins the movie magic.”

“baby if you were a movie i’d be watching the extended cut and all the behind the scenes,” cheol jokes, and he hears boos from your living room. that’s when he peeks inside and notices jen on the couch, also wearing a pajama set of her government assigned sanrio character (cinnamoroll). “hey jen.”

“tahi’s here too,” you tell him, and he looks around but you say, “in the kitchen. i think she’s making tea.”

“ooo, tea sounds great,” cheol says as he tries to walk into your apartment, and you do your best to use your smaller frame to stop him. “baby, what are you doing?”

“girls night,” you say sternly. “no boys allowed.”

“no boys?” he pouts, and you can hear tahi telling you to be strong. 

“no boys,” you confirm with a nod, and cheol pinches your cheek.

“fine. where’s fred then?” 

“what?”

“if you’re having girls night then me and fred are gonna have boys night,” cheol says. “gimme his toys, he’s sleeping at my house.”

“NO,” jen shouts, “you can’t take him, he’s the only reason i came over!”

“hey!” you and tahi whine, and with the distraction cheol is able to grab fred’s leash from the wall and call for his partner in crime. fred happily gets up from beneath jen’s feet to meet cheol at the door, going along with whatever happens. you sigh as you notice how excited fred looks, so you trudge through your apartment grabbing whatever fred may need to spend the night with your annoying boyfriend. 

“here,” you grumble, shoving a bag into cheol’s eager hands. he looks just as excited as fred, so that softens the blow a little bit. “you two have fun. don’t stay up too late, don’t talk to strangers, and please don’t lose my dog.”

“i would never,” cheol scoffs, leaning in to give you a kiss. “i know you’d break up with me if anything happened to him and i won’t allow that.”

“hm, whatever you say. just come back in one piece tomorrow morning,” you tell him and he nods. 

“that i can do,” and then to fred, “let’s go buddy! boys night boys night!” chanting all the way across the hall to his door. you watch them with an idiotic grin on your face, and when you close your door you hear someone clearing their throat. you turn around to see tahi and jen both staring at you expectantly, and confused you simply ask, “what?”

“you know you’re in love with him, right?” jen asks, and you balk.

“i am not,” you reply quickly, and then you backtrack, “i mean, i like him, obviously, he’s my boyfriend. i should like him. i do. a lot. but love? i don’t love him. yet. maybe. do i?”

“yeah, you’re definitely in love with him,” tahi says as she hands you your mug of tea before she kicks off her my melody slippers and takes what’s usually cheol’s spot on the couch. “anyone can see it.”

“do you think cheol knows?” you ask, nervous. 

“maybe,” jen shrugs. “if you were oblivious about it then maybe he is too.”

“nah, he’s been in love with her since day one,” tahi says. “you know that saying, if he wanted to he would? cheol has been the embodiment of that for y/n. i don’t know any other man that would move furniture for me after not even knowing me for five minutes.”

“cheol’s just really nice,” you mumble, and your friends nod. 

“i think he’s a jerk,” jen says, and you turn to look at her just for her to say, “i can’t believe he stole fred from me.”

“oh just go over there if you miss him so much,” you groan. jen thinks about it for a second, you can see the gears turning in her head. “oh my god you’re not really gonna ditch us for my dog are you?”

“no,” she says finally. “but i’m staying for lunch tomorrow. i need to get my fred time in.”

“fine, weirdo. what movie are we gonna watch?”

-

after your night of being annoying with your friends, you wake up the next day shockingly early and a feeling hits you deep in the chest: you miss cheol. or fred. or both. you lay in your bed for a moment trying to decipher which one it is when you remember that you can just go over there and see them. cheol isn’t usually an early riser, but you know fred has probably needed to go out already, so you slide into your robe and slippers hoping that cheol will let you in when you knock. 

you quietly make it through the living room, hopefully not disturbing your friends (because they would ridicule you for what you’re about to do). once you’re at cheol’s door, subconsciously you just reach out to open it, still a little sleep clouding your brain. but it opens. his door was unlocked, and for a second your heart drops to your ass thinking something is wrong. you step into cheol’s apartment worried, searching for your boys and any missing valuables. nothing looks wrong in the living room, so you keep going until you find his bedroom door ajar. you push it open, and let out a quiet “awww” at the sight before you.

fred is laying on cheol’s chest, a situation you’re familiar with, because he obviously wants to get up and play but cheol is to tired for that. both their heads turn at the sound of your voice, and fred’s tail starts wagging as cheol tries his best to sit up and look at you better.

“baby?” he asks, reaching out for you. “what’s wrong?”

“oh nothing,” you say nonchalantly, shuffling over to his bed to join them. “i just missed you.” cheol’s heart jumps into his throat at your words, but then you try to recover. “i mean fred. i missed fred.”

“sure,” he smiles, grabbing your hands once you’re close enough and pulling you down into his bed. “cmere. we missed you too.”

“that’s sweet,” you coo, letting him pull you against him, his arms wrapping around you as fred situates himself at your feet. “but you wanna hear something shocking?”

“what?” cheol asks, confused. “you missed me so much it hurt?” 

blushing, because that was totally true, you reply, “no?”

“what then?”

“how do you think i got in here, sweetcheeks?” you ask, and the realization dawns on his face. “mister why-don’t-you-ever-lock-your-door forgot his own number one rule.”

“guess i’ve been spending too much time with you, your bad habits are rubbing off on me,” cheol mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss at the top of your head when he’s done.

“too much time?” you ask, sitting up, “i can leave then-”

“don’t you dare,” cheol growls, basically koala-grabbing you with his arms and legs so you have to lay back down. “can’t leave. ‘m comfy.”

“i have to though,” you grumble, struggling to get out of his strong hold. “i left my friends alone in my apartment. they could be stealing.”

“they’re probably still asleep.”

“but i promised i would make waffles-”

“waffles?” cheol asks, suddenly interested. “i like waffles.”

“hm.”

“let me come with you and i’ll let you go.”

“they’re gonna make fun of us.”

“whatever, we can just make out to make them uncomfortable,” cheol jokes, a shit eating grin on his face that you know is at least half serious.

“promise you won’t be weird around my friends and you can come,” you warn him, and he gives you his best puppy dog eyes, pout and all. “fine, let’s go.”

back at your apartment, you and cheol do your best to get into the kitchen without waking your guests but fred ruins it by booping noses with them just to say hey. jen is thrilled that he’s back so she stays in the living room, but tahi wanders into the kitchen and watches with a smile on her face as you and cheol work on the waffles together.

“what happened to girls night?” tahi teases, and you glare at her while cheol responds.

“this one just missed me too much,” he sighs, earning a slap to the arm. “but it’s not night anymore. it’s-” checking the oven clock “-ten in the morning, so girls night is over. do you want chocolate chips in your waffles?”

“please,” tahi nods, and cheol reaches around you, hand on your waist, to grab the bag of sweets. cheol adds some chocolate to the bowl he’s working on as tahi goes back out to join jen, and while cheol waits for the waffle iron to heat up he comes back to your side. 

he dips his finger into the batter you’re working on and almost moans at the taste, asking, “what did you put in here to make it so good??”

“cinnamon? i don’t know really, i just started adding stuff,” you reply. “is it that good?”

“mhm, taste it,” he says, dipping his finger back in and presenting it to you. nervously, you lean forward and wrap your lips around his finger, licking the batter off as you hold eye contact with him. there’s electricity in the air around you as you pull back, and with a new deepness to his voice, cheol asks, “what do you think?”

“i think it needs more vanilla,” you squeak out, and cheol holds your gaze for a second longer before he nods. 

“i think you’re right,” he says, finding the bottle of extract and taking over the work for you. you just watch on, heart beating quickly in your chest, as you try to calm down from whatever that was. 

-

cheol’s bold move in the kitchen changed things. obviously you’ve thought about the physical side of your relationship, but so far it hasn’t naturally gone further than making out a little bit or grabbing each other’s butts. now though? you can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened if you and cheol had gone further. you catch yourself daydreaming about his hands and what they could do, and that leads you down a deep dark hole. you’re not sure how to bring it up to cheol though.

but you really should bring it up, because he’s thinking the same things. the way your lips wrapped around his finger has been bouncing around in his mind ever since. his brain reminds him of it at the worst times, and if he lets his mind wander he starts thinking about what else you could wrap your lips around. he wants so badly to say something, but doesn’t want to rush you into anything. so in silence you both wait for the other person to make a move.

that is, until the following friday when you get invited to a party at mingyu’s house. he’s known to find the most random reasons to throw parties, so you’re not even sure what the occasion is this time. you do know that cheol is excited about going as a couple, so you can’t say no. since you don’t totally understand the theme, you need reinforcements, so you stalk across the hall and bang on your boyfriend’s door.

“how exactly am i supposed to dress for a ‘spring equinox’ party?” you ask cheol as soon as he opens his door. 

“um, warmly?” he guesses, toweling off his wet hair. that’s when you notice he’s just wearing his boxers, his broad chest still glistening with the remains of his shower. your mind starts to wander again, and you physically shake your head to help you focus. “at least that’s what mingyu’s text said.”

“but it’s still cold outside,” you counter, then pause. “do you answer the door for strangers in your boxers?”

“no?” he laughs. “you’re the only person who knocks on my door, so i knew it was you. in case you were jealous of the world getting to see this,” he explains, doing a little shimmy at the end. 

“you’re not helping,” you groan. “what are you wearing?”

“shorts and a t shirt?” he guesses. “maybe a jacket just on the way there. but mingyu is very serious about his themes, babe, so i don’t think you can get out of this one.”

“fine,” you sigh, turning back to your door. “i’ll wear something hot.”

that you did! when cheol finishes up at his, he grabs his things and tries your door, shocked that it’s locked for once. he texts you that he’s outside, let him in pretty please, and when you open the door it takes his breath away. he’s never seen you so scantily clad before, and he finds himself staring with his mouth open. trying his best not to have the same reaction as a high school boy, he just checks you out calmly and jokes, “when you said you were dressing hot i didn’t think you meant sexy.”

“please,” you roll your eyes, “this is not sexy.”

“beg to differ,” cheol replies, looking you up and down once again. you’re wearing shorts, which he realizes now he’s never seen you in before, and he’s admiring your thighs and your ass, but the tight tank top you paired with the shorts accentuates your chest just the right way. he’s trying not to imagine what it would be like to bury his face in between-

“i’m ready,” you say finally, and cheol whines when he turns to look at you. 

“why’d you put more clothes on?” he complains, openly hating the large button up you’ve added on top.

“it’s cold outside!” you whine, and he tsks. “you’re so weird. most guys would want their girlfriend to hide the goods.”

“not me,” he shakes his head. “i want everyone to be jealous of what they can’t have, so i vote no shirt.”

“i’ll take it off at the party, deal?” you ask. “i don’t wanna be cold on the way.”

“i could keep you warm,” cheol offers, and there’s that tension again. he holds your gaze, challenging you to take up on his offer. you’re about to cave when your phone buzzes with a text from tahi, asking when you’d be there. 

“um, we should go,” you say as you clear your throat. “sounds like we might be late.” 

“hm, shame,” cheol sighs, opening your door for you. “go ahead. i’ll lock up.”

“you just wanna stare at my ass while i walk, don’t you?”

“you know me well, darling.”

-

at the party, you’re greeted by a shirtless mingyu at the door. he pulls you in quickly, dragging you to the kitchen to meet his new “friend” ali. she smiles politely, happy to meet more of the posse mingyu talks about so much. 

“she makes the best drinks, what’s that weird donkey drink you like y/n?” mingyu asks, and you laugh.

“a mule?” you reply, and he nods. 

“yeah, she can make you one!” you look to mingyu’s special lady and she nods, getting to work.

“are you a bartender?” you ask, finding cheol over by wonwoo. he smiles at you sweetly, and you smile back.

“no,” ali replies, “i just got really into making cocktails after the pandemic. got a whole mixology kit and thought i’d try it out. now it’s my party trick, i guess.” as she finishes, she hands you your “donkey drink” and you take a sip.

“oh, this is perfect,” you say happily. “i’ll be seeing you again later, my friend.”

“sure thing,” ali smiles, and you leave her with mingyu, who literally has puppy dog eyes as he looks at her in amazement. you laugh to yourself, happy that your friends will have someone new to tease for being in love. you walk over to join cheol and wonwoo in the living room, linking your arm with cheol’s as you listen to their conversation. 

“i’m just saying, he’s weird, man,” cheol starts. “who throws a party practically in the middle of winter and makes us wear summer clothes?” 

“i think he just wanted an excuse to be shirtless in front of that girl,” you point out, and the guys nod.

“or, crazy thought, there’s a whole season in between winter and summer,” wonwoo says, looking back at cheol. “and it’s about to start. maybe that’s why he’s having a spring equinox party.”

“that’s my point,” cheol whines, lips forming his signature pout. “who does that! what does equinox even mean!”

“it happens when the sun crosses-” wonwoo starts, and cheol whines again, head falling to your shoulder.

“baby make him stop, i don’t want a science lesson,” he says, arms wrapping around your waist as he turns into your neck. you and wonwoo share a look, yours trying to apologize for cheol’s behavior and wonwoo’s just amused by the sight before him. he says something about going to find tahi, and you’re left alone with your clingy boyfriend.

“what is your problem,” you laugh, trying and failing to push cheol off of you.

“you are,” he pouts again. “you look too good and there’s too many people here for me to make out with you without being self conscious.”

“outside?” you suggest, and cheol looks at you mischievously. 

“thought you said it was cold out.”

“i thought you said you could keep me warm?”

-

while it’s not the balcony that you and cheol shared your first kiss on, you find yourself in a similar situation a few seconds later. you easily snuck out without anyone noticing, cheol even managing to grab a bottle of soju for you to share as you passed by the kitchen. it’s neglected at first, because the second you slide the door closed, cheol’s hands are gripping your cheeks and pulling your lips to his. you sigh into the kiss, instantly warming at the contact. you kiss him until you need a breather, and you pull back with a dopey smile on your face as you admire the man before you. 

“hey, you’re cute,” you whisper, laughing when he blushes.

“you’re cuter,” he counters, leaning down to grab the soju he placed by the door before he takes a swig and hands it to you. “i didn’t bring cups, hope that’s okay.” 

“we just swapped spit, we can share a bottle,” you reply, taking it from him and having a healthy drink yourself. you keep passing it back and forth between you, cheol asking for a kiss every once in a while in exchange for the bottle. when it’s finally empty, he moves like he’s going back into the party, but you stop him. “wait, let’s stay out here for a minute.”

“okay,” cheol nods. “you’re not cold?”

“a little,” you shrug, placing your hands on the cool railing. “but i’m a little drunk so that’s helping.” cheol is quiet for a second and you’re comfortable just admiring the night sky like this, but his strong arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest.

“warm now?” he checks, and you nod. you relax in his arms, one of your hands reaching up to hold onto his. cheol places a kiss to the top of your head, and in that moment you feel yourself wanting to say that you love him. you don’t though, afraid to break the silence surrounding you and risk ruining the moment. so instead, you just nod and take a deep breath. 

you’re not sure how much time passes with you standing like this, cheol eventually swaying you back and forth to the beat of whatever playlist mingyu has going inside. eventually, the music gets louder, and you realize together that someone must have opened the door to the balcony. looking back you see a smug vernon there, ready to crack a joke, but you beat him to it. 

“what’s up, champ?” you ask and he smiles. 

“your favorite person is here,” he replies, and you gasp, unraveling yourself from cheol’s grasp. you follow vernon back inside, eyes searching for one of his friends that you always love seeing. when your eyes land on seungkwan you almost scream, rushing forward to pull him into a hug. you both start talking a mile a minute, trying to catch up over the past few months all in a few seconds. 

cheol comes in from the balcony, empty bottle in his hand, and he stops next to vernon. he notices cheol’s rigid posture as he watches you and seungkwan, making vernon laugh.

“don’t be jealous, dude,” vernon assures him. “me, y/n and seungkwan were all really close in college, but he’s not interested. it’s just been a while since he’s visited so you can understand why she’s so excited.”

“yeah, i get it,” cheol nods. 

he stands for another moment, watching you closely, before turning away and mumbling about finding a recycling bin. in the kitchen he makes you both new drinks, taking yours over so he can meet your friend. he’s not jealous that you’re talking to a guy, really. he’s just jealous that vernon called this dude your favorite person. wasn’t that supposed to be cheol? he makes it back to the couch where you’re listening intently to seungkwan telling a story, and he perches on the arm of the couch behind you as he hands you a drink. you reach back and grab his hand, kissing his palm, and the gesture makes seungkwan stop cold.

“you’re joking,” he says, looking between you and cheol. “don’t tell me this is the boyfriend you mentioned.”

“he is,” you say proudly. “kwan, meet cheol, cheol meet seungkwan.”

“hey,” cheol nods. 

“hi,” he says quickly. “can i be blunt?”

“sure?” cheol says, unsure of what’s coming next.

“what does someone like you see in someone like y/n?” he asks in disbelief, and you push him so hard he falls back into a sleeping hoshi. jen left him for a few minutes, hopefully to go grab him some water, so when he notices his girlfriend is gone his bottom lip starts to quiver. you push seungkwan again and say, “look what you did, you made the baby cry.”

“he’ll get over it,” he waves it off. “i’m sorry. but come on. this is a joke right?”

“no,” you whine. “cheol is my boyfriend, get over it.”

“you’ve changed, y/n,” seungkwan shakes his head. “this is the first time i’ve met one of your boyfriends and haven’t immediately wanted to talk shit about him with vernon.”

“i hate you,” you say, trying to stand up, but cheol lightly pushes you back down.

“no, let the man speak,” he smirks, and you groan as you fall back into the couch. you down your drink as seungkwan tells cheol embarrassing stories about your past, and cheol plays with your hair as he listens at full attention.

“i’m getting another drink,” you mumble, standing up and allowing cheol to take your place. he’s listening to seungkwan describe a date that he and vernon had to save you from, because the guy was an hour late to a movie and you didn’t want to watch it by yourself nor waste the ticket that you already paid for. you mentally curse vernon for inadvertently bringing the two together, and when you get back into the kitchen you find mingyu and his friend making out. “oh, sorry.”

“y/n, my bad,” mingyu says, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“you’re good, pretend i’m not here,” you reply as you grab things randomly and pour them into your cup. you take a sip, satisfied with the sweet taste, and you walk back out to find cheol in the same place. his face lights up when he sees you, smiling all the way up to his eyes as you get closer. there’s not much room on the couch, so you try to sit on the arm like cheol did earlier, but he’s not having that. he pulls you down by the waist to sit in his lap, and you shriek when your drink spills. 

“shit,” cheol grumbles, “i’m sorry baby, here let me help-”

“it’s fine,” you say, holding your drink out to him. he takes it and you slip your button up off, tossing it over the back of the couch. “it was just the sleeve, i’m good now i think.”

“you look great,” cheol says, complete with a sneaky smile. he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around you easily as he says lowly, “been waitin all night for you to take that off.”

something about his words and the tight hold he has on you all sends a wave of goosebumps over your skin. you shift in his lap, trying to create some space, but the friction of your ass rubbing over his crotch just has the beginnings of a boner poking through cheol’s shorts. you look at him in shock, and he’s staring back at you darkly. 

“are you alright?” you ask, and he nods. 

“great, you?” 

“mhm,” you agree, taking a sip of your drink. cheol watches you like he’s trying to ingrain this moment in his memory, closely staring at the way your lips meet the cup and how your tongue pokes out to lick your lips when you’re done. you offer the cup to him, wanting his attention off of you for a moment, and as he takes a sip you lay your head down on his shoulder, just trying to get a moment to breathe. 

the next thing you know, cheol is waking you up, saying that it’s probably time for you to leave. you only dozed off for a little while, he explains, but the party was slowly dying out and cheol wanted to get you home. your shirt is still soaked though, so at the door cheol slides off the tacky hawaiian shirt he’s been wearing all night and wraps it around your shoulders. you say your goodbyes and head back to the car, cheol’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

“sorry i got tired at the end,” you yawn. “we could’ve stayed longer.” 

“no, it’s ok,” cheol assures you. “i think mingyu was ready to kick us all out anyway.” 

“yeah, i noticed we’re not the hot new couple anymore,” you joke, and cheol smiles. “are you tired though? you wanna do something-” yawn “-before we go home?”

“no baby,” he says fondly, “you need to go to bed. and wonwoo finally found me and explained what an equinox is so i think my brain is tapped out for the night too.”

“ok, because we could go get food or-”

“no baby,” he repeats, kissing your cheek. “i’m good, really. let’s go home.”

in the car you dozed off again, and cheol quietly admired you as he tried to calm himself down. he had definitely popped a boner with you sitting in his lap, and his skin was still on fire from the feeling of your ass grinding against him, even if the movement was completely innocent. he uses the ride home to get his heartbeat back to normal, and when he opens your door to walk you home you never would’ve known all the nasty thoughts running through his head. he takes you to your door, kissing you goodnight before he disappears into his apartment. you take care of fred and then work on yourself, wanting to sober up a little before you go to bed. so you take a shower and start a load of laundry, hoping your shirt didn’t stain at the party. once you’re done and laying in bed finally, you can’t seem to close your eyes for long. your mind keeps trailing back to cheol, and his big arms wrapped around you, and how it felt being so close to him with his breath fanning over your neck, and-

there’s a knock at your door. 

you lay still for a moment, but when the knock comes again you relax, knowing it must be cheol. maybe he forgot something, you think as you trudge to your door. or did he not kiss you goodnight? you thought he did but maybe not. you open the door finally, and he’s standing there in what you assume are his sleep clothes, hair a mess and a darkly inviting look in his eyes.

“i can’t sleep,” he says simply. “can you help me?”

“hm, and how would i do that?” you play coy, leaning against your door frame. smirking, you look up at cheol who’s taken a step closer to you, hands coming up to hold you by the waist. 

“take me to your room and i’ll show you?” he smiles back, already walking with you back into your apartment. he kicks the door closed behind him, locking it swiftly while you watch him and let him lead you wherever. “tell me baby, what do you like?”

“cheol,” you blush, bringing your hands up to push him away but he pulls you closer and basically growls into your ear.

“you want this, right?” he confirms. “you want me?”

“of course i do,” you nod, and you can feel him smiling against your neck.

“then tell me what i should do to drive you crazy,” he starts, starting at your collarbone and trailing kisses up your neck. “tell me what you love, tell me what you hate, i wanna know it all.”

“i’ll give you a study guide,” you tease.

“you joke but i would take that seriously.”

“i know.”

“i’d make flashcards,” he smiles, “carry em around. practice when i get bored.”

“i get it,” you laugh, realizing that you’re at the doorway to your room. “you gonna take me to bed or what?”

“kiss me first,” he whispers, looking up at you sweetly. you lean in, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips meet. as you make out you pull cheol back to your bed until the backs of your knees collide with your mattress. you sit down, pulling cheol with you. he eagerly crawls on top of you, caging you in. he pulls away as he hovers above you, admiring the way you look laying beneath him. “hey.”

“hello,” you wave, and his head falls into your neck as he laughs.

“you’re beautiful, do i tell you that enough?” he mumbles into your skin, and you’re glad he’s not watching you blush the deepest shade of red.

“you tell me plenty, love.”

“i’m gonna start saying it more,” he tells you, sitting up again so he’s hovering above you. “because you are.”

“every time you do i’m just gonna remind you of your dreaminess,” you reply, and he nods. 

“deal,” he agrees, dipping back down to capture your lips again. he lowers himself on top of you so he can use one arm to support himself while the other grabs the hem of your shirt. “take this off baby.”

“bossy,” you tease. “i like it.”

“noted,” cheol says, catching your eye again. “i can be bossier.”

“show me.”

“ok,” he says as he sits up completely, thick thighs straddling your legs. “take your shirt off and then keep your hands above your head. don’t move or i’ll stop.”

you do as he says, pulling your sleep shirt off before you toss it somewhere in your room. as you lay back down you notice cheol’s taken his shirt off, and you admire him while he does the same. you’re not wearing a bra so cheol watches intently, tracing every curve of your chest with his eyes.

“can’t believe this is the first time i’ve seen your tits,” he whispers, hands reaching up carefully to caress them. his thumbs rub delicately over your nipples, earning a breathy moan from you. “come on baby, gonna have to be louder for me.”

“then you’re gonna have to work for it,” you tell him, staring at him above you. you watch as his eyes shift, getting darker, and he dives in to kiss you again. this one is hungrier, full teeth nipping at your lips and cheol’s eager hands tweaking your nipples. you’re squirming beneath him, and he moans into your mouth when you brush up against the bulge in his boxers. 

“careful baby,” he mumbles, “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“but,” you gently push him away, “i thought this was for you? you’re the one that needs help, right?”

“yeah, but,” he stops to kiss you again, “i think we’re both enjoying this.”

“duh, but i want to help you,” you say, “wanna make you feel good. let me get on top.”

“no,” he says sternly, grabbing your wrists and placing your hands above your head again. “i’m in charge tonight. that’s how you can help me, yeah? just do as i say. and don’t move your hands again, baby, want you to be good for me.”

“or what, i’ll get punished?” you dramatically pout, and cheol pinches both your nipples in response. you buck up, a low whine coming from deep within your chest. 

“wasn’t planning on it, but hey, if you deserve it,” cheol smirks, kissing you one more time before he trails his lips down your jawline and to your neck. he starts marking your neck, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel his hand trail to your panties. he looks up at you, silently asking for permission and you tell him it’s okay. his fingers dip into your panties, gasping when he’s met with the arousal seeping out of you. “you’re so wet darlin, this all for me?”

“mhm,” you whine, wiggling your hips to try and get more friction. “need more cheol.”

he listens, swiping some of your slick on his fingers before finding your clit. he rubs it in light circles, giving you some relief but not enough. you blubber out another whine, and then cheol dips his hand down to your core. he tests the waters, slowly easing one finger into you, and your hands fly down to his head so they can grab onto something. you pull his hair, earning a moan as he bites into your neck harder, and then you feel him slip a second finger between your walls. you moan softly as he works you closer to your high, getting louder as he strokes just the right spot inside you. 

“cheol, baby, feels so good,” you moan, lifting your hips to get him deeper.

“stay still,” he growls, grabbing one of your hands from the back of his head and pinning it beside you. he keeps working at your core but he lowers himself further, puckering his plump lips around one of your nipples. he kisses and licks your hardened bud until he gets bored and moves onto the next one, moaning at the taste and feeling of your soft skin on his tongue. you use your free hand to play with your neglected nipple, breathing faster as you get closer to your orgasm. cheol picks up on it quickly, staring up at you like the finest piece of art as he whispers, “are you close baby?” all you can do is nod, already at a loss for words, so he asks, “think you can come for me like this?” you whine and stare down at him, shaking your head, so he lets go of your hand and brings his your lips. he presents you with two fingers, asking you to suck. you welcome them into your mouth, groaning as he picks up speed with his other hand. when cheol’s satisfied with your work, he brings his saliva coated fingers down to your clit to rub tight circles on top of it. the whole time he watches you closely, memorizing the way you breathe, the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, and committing every sound you make to memory. he can feel you clenching around his fingers as you come, and with a toe curling orgasm you reach your high. cheol slowly works you through it, calming his movements until your breathing settles again. you look down at him and smile, hands carding through his hair.

“sorry i couldn’t keep my hands to myself,” you whisper out. “but that was amazing.”

“yeah?” cheol asks, and you nod. “you think you can give me another?” 

“cheol, let me do something for you-”

“you are,” he insists, crawling down your body until his face is level with your soaked panties. “let me eat you out and come for me again, that’s what you can do for me. alright princess?”

“princess?” you smile, and cheol hums in agreement. “i guess i can do that.”

cheol pulls your panties down then, groaning at the sight of your puffy pussy lips covered in your release. he can’t wait to devour you, but he needs one more thing before he can get started. he reaches for your hands and plants them in his hair, earning a confused noise from you. he looks up between your legs before he explains, “want you to pull my hair. i don’t know what i was thinking telling you not to touch me. don’t think i can keep going without your hands on me somehow.”

“needy,” you tease, and he hums as he lowers himself back down to your core. 

“you’re dripping for me so who’s really the needy one?” he asks, swiping a finger through your folds before he pops it into his mouth, moaning at the taste. “ready baby?” 

“please,” you whine, using your hands threaded through his hair to push his face into your core. his nose bumps at your clit and your hips rise farther into his touch. delicately, he swipes his tongue from your clit to your entrance, his own hips trying to find some sort of attention as he grinds into the bed. he goes top to bottom once again, this time dipping his tongue into your entrance. you moan his name breathlessly as you feel his tongue at your core, one of his hands coming up to play with your clit. “cheol...”

“mm?”

“too much,” you warn, loving the way his tongue is devouring you but worried that the extra attention to your clit might make you come too soon. “gonna come.”

“isn’t that the point?” cheol smiles at you evilly, his lips and chin coated in your arousal. 

“i mean, yeah,” you squeak out as he dives back in. “b-but i should make you feel g-good. you-ah, you needed the help.”

“baby,” he says seriously, looking up at you once again. “please. i’m enjoying the hell out of myself. you can help me out soon, yeah?” you nod, and he’s satisfied. “alright then. tell me when you’re gonna come.”

he goes back to his original position, thumb carefully stroking your clit and sending electricity straight through you while his tongue teases your entrance, obscenely slurping at your lips as he plays with you like a toy. you’re so caught up in the way he’s making you feel you almost don’t notice the extra attention, cheol’s free hand slipping down to join his tongue at your entrance. he fucks into you with his tongue, a finger slowly joining him, and then he pulls his mouth from you completely as he goes back to stroking that one spot inside you. he backs off of your clit too, and you sigh thinking you’ve gotten a chance to catch your breath. that’s short lived, because you feel his tongue flicking over your clit instead, playing with it just the right way that you feel the coil in your stomach starting to come undone. he puckers his lips around your clit, sucking lightly, and your hands tighten in his hair, encouraging him to suck at your clit again, adding another finger while he’s at it. you’re coming again, cheol making out with your pussy as you come, chanting his name over and over again. 

“fuck,” cheol groans, wiping your release from his face with the back of his hand. “you’re so warm baby. and sweet. can’t get enough of you.”

“fuck me then,” you say boldly, opening your legs wider to welcome his hips. cheol leans over you and grabs you by the knees, bringing them up to your chest.

“hold these outta the way for me princess,” he growls, watching the way your pussy clenches, waiting to take him. he pulls his boxers down, stroking himself as he asks, “shit, do you have a condom?” you nod. “where?”

“bedside table, in the drawer,” you answer simply. you watch as cheol hops out of bed and slides his boxers down his legs, biting your lip at the sight of his ass on display. he finds the condoms and chuckles, making you ask, “what’s so funny?”

“i genuinely don’t know if these will fit, honey,” he replies, shaking the foil packet above you. 

“well can you try?” you ask suspiciously, looking down at his cock as he rolls the condom over it and your eyes bulge when you see it fully for the first time. “whoa.”

“whoa?” cheol laughs, sliding the condom down his length. “that’s not reassuring. you still want me to fuck you?”

“even more so,” you nod, opening your legs wider to accommodate cheol’s hips. he slots himself over you, slapping his cock over your pussy as your hips chase his. “stop teasing.”

“stop complaining,” he counters, sliding his cock up to rub your clit, earning a choked moan from you. “you sure i prepped you enough? need me to go back down there and check?”

“cheol,” you whine loudly, bucking your hips up so his tip will bump into your clit again. “fuck me please. wanna feel you.”

“since you said please,” he smiles, taking his cock by the base and guiding it into your core. he thrusts into you slowly, hissing at the feeling of your walls swallowing his cock. you’re left speechless, not used to someone so big. you catch yourself holding you breath and take a deep inhale, core flexing even more around cheol. “fuck, do that again.” you obey, clenching around him a few times before he finally tears his eyes away from where your bodies meet. “can i move?”

“please.”

“good girl,” he hisses, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in deeply. “taking me so good.”

“you feel amazing cheol,” you sigh. “never been fucked so deep.”

“good,” he says, holding onto your hips so he can angle you how he wants. “don’t want you to ever forget this. or me.”

“impossible,” you smile up at him, and he leans down to capture your lips. your kiss is as frantic as the feeling of cheol thrusting into you, lips breaking apart every so often from the force of his hips. you let go of your legs, letting them fall open around cheol so your hands can wrap around his broad shoulders, grabbing onto him so your lips stay locked. he moans into your mouth when he feels your nails grazing his skin, and his hands take up your place on your knees, holding your legs up and apart. he starts thrusting faster, getting you close to your third orgasm of the night. you still feel bad that he hasn’t come at all, so you clench around him to get him closer. his hips sputter and he stops, breath fanning over your face as he takes a second. 

“fuck,” he groans, thrusting into you lazily as he speaks. “you have the tightest pussy. feels like you were made for me.”

“and what if i was?” you ask, your hands playing with the hair on the back of his head. cheol’s cheeks warm at your words, but his hips pick up speed again as he tries to convey just how he feels about you into the pleasure he wants you to feel. he wants it to be overwhelming, he wants it to be the only thing you can think about, so he dips his head down to your chest and captures a nipple in his mouth as his hips drill into you relentlessly. you’re back to chanting his name and he knows you’re close, letting go of one leg so he can trace circles over your clit again. your legs start shaking as he fucks you into your final release of the night, and you feel his thrusts falter as he spills into the condom. 

you breathe heavily, trying to understand why your body suddenly feels like it’s on fire. in your post-orgasm bliss you missed cheol going to the bathroom to toss the condom and grab a wet washcloth to clean you up, but when he’s back in your bed you roll over to face him and you’re overcome with that fiery feeling again. you both lay there, staring at each other, and it hits you: that fiery feeling is love. you love cheol, you have for a while, but you’re sure of it now. you feel safe with him. you feel loved with him. 

as these thoughts run through your head, cheol pulls you into his chest so your head is laying just above his heart. you listen as the rapid beating slows, comforted by his presence and warm all over. you look up, ready to tell him what you just discovered, but you let out a silent laugh when you see his pouty lips parted in the beginnings of a snore. you lean up to peck his perfect lips before settling back in his hold, content to sit with your revelation a little longer. 

-

in the morning, you wake up before seungcheol. you’re usually a late sleeper, but you weren’t used to having someone in your bed and cheol’s vice grip on you all night has made you too hot. you try to unwrap yourself from his hold, but he just pulls you into him even tighter despite his eyes staying closed. 

“cheol,” you whisper, and nothing. you brush some of his hair out of his hair out of his eyes and try again. “seungcheol.” still nothing. louder, you try one final time, “choi seungcheol, wake up.”

“don’t call me that,” he mumbles, pulling your head down to his chest so he can nuzzle into your hair. “go back to sleep darling.” 

“no, i’m hot.”

“yeah you are.”

“cheol,” you groan, wiggling in his grasp. “let me go. i’m gonna make breakfast.”

“waffles?” he asks, peeking up at you hopefully.

“sure,” you nod, and he hesitantly lets you go. “don’t stick my finger in your mouth this time.”

“killjoy!” he shouts accusingly, watching happily as you get up and start pulling your clothes back on. “no naked breakfast either?”

“i can ask you to leave,” you threaten. “you live across the hall, i could push you there if i really wanted.”

“you wouldn’t dare,” he teases right back. “need my help in the kitchen?”

“eh, no,” you shrug, looking back at him as you pull on a sweater. “you stay here and get your beauty sleep.”

“do you mind if i use your shower?” he asks before you leave your room, and you tell him it’s ok. he slides out of bed and he catches you staring as you explain where the towels are. 

“and i should have a new bottle of body wash under the sink,” you explain, “just in case the one in the shower is empty.” 

“got it sweetcheeks,” cheol says as he meets you at the door, snaking a hand around your waist before kissing you. 

“hey, that’s my name for you,” you pout. “you can’t take it.”

“i’ll come up with my own then,” he says as his hand slides down to squeeze your ass. he’s staring at you intently, making you blush, and you’re tempted to tell him what you were thinking about last night when he interrupts your thoughts. “can i say something?”

“sure,” you nod, and he wraps his arms around you completely. 

“it was pretty nice waking up next to you,” he says as he drops his forehead to yours. “think we should do that more often.”

“but you snore,” you complain lightly, and he smiles.

“you’ll get over it.” 

when cheol gets out of the shower, he goes back to your room to find the clothes he was wearing last night. he gets dressed quickly, eager to get back to you and this slice of domestic life. it really did something to cheol to have you wake up in his arms, and he can’t shake that feeling from his head. it also has him thinking about how he’s been trying to tell you he loves you for several days now, and he always backs out at the last minute. but today? today he’ll do it. he’ll ask you to dinner, he’ll take you to that fancy place you’ve been dying to try, and he’ll tell you surrounded by candles. 

except, all of that goes out the window when he walks into your kitchen. his heart almost beats out of his chest at the sight of you dancing with fred, singing him a song off of that playlist cheol made for you so long ago. you look so happy, and beautiful, and just..perfect. cheol can’t help it, he coos and seemingly ruins the moment, pulling your attention and fred’s. he jumps down and meets cheol at the door for pets, but you invite him over, your arms wrapping around each other as soon as you’re close enough. you sway to the music together, gazing at each other like two idiots in love. because you are. 

“baby?” you whisper, afraid that speaking too loud will ruin the moment. 

“yeah?” cheol responds, worried by the look on your face. you study him for a second longer and decide to go for it.

“i think i’m in love with you.”

“you do?” cheol asks, a smile threatening to overtake his features. 

“i do,” you nod. “i love you, cheol.”

“hm, how interesting,” cheol says, relishing in this moment, letting the words fall out of his mouth like he’s never been so excited to say something before. “because i’m in love with you too.”

“you love me?” you smile, your face lighting up at the relief you feel.

“i love you,” cheol confirms. “do you love me?”

“i love you,” you nod, cupping his face before giving him a kiss. you don’t pull away completely, but you lean back enough to whisper into his lips, “say it again.”

“i love you,” cheol repeats, punctuating his words with a kiss that makes you feel like you’re soaring. “i love you, and i plan on loving you for a very long time.”

[me-and-your-husband]

mine truly and forever || j. miller

summary: joel comes back to you in whatever way he can. part two of “yours truly and forever”. 

warnings: smut, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk

word count: 4k

A/N: this took me awhile to get out, sorry everybody! also, i really didn’t plan on writing a part 2 to this, but the demand was really high. not my best work, so i just fed you all with smut instead lmao

here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my work!

You had long since given up hope that Joel was coming back for you. 

Every morning, you woke and swallowed down the tightening in your throat, the knot in your stomach. You believed he had moved on. Maybe he found his brother and settled down with Ellie.

Anything was better than what was most likely. Anything was better than him being dead.

You rose with the sun and fell with it too, wondering every day if you’d ever see him again. If you’d ever get to laugh with him, or cry with him, or touch him. Some part of you thought that, maybe, your night spent together was just his desperation for some human touch. All you were to him was a way to satiate his desire. Maybe.

You tried not to think about it, but the thought of him him him seeped into everything you did. Feeding the cows? You thought about Joel. Harvesting? You thought about Joel. Cooking? You thought about Joel. Laying awake at night, eyes flitting across the darkness, searching for something? You thought about Joel. 

So, yeah, you’d given up on the idea of him awhile ago. 

It had been two years since that night. The night you gave yourself wholly to him. The night you let him into the most intimate parts of your body and soul. Since you let him crawl through you, seeing into your depths. 

The first few months after him were honeyed in hope. When your alarm went off, signaling something was trying to breach your perimeter, you rushed to the camera and prayed it was Joel. It was always just some stray infected or moose or something that wasn’t him. As the snow melted, your heart was loyal. You breathed in the belief of his words every morning. The slush on the ground a reminder that he’d be safer in the warm weather, that he’d come back to you sooner. The summer was warm. Your garden thrived, preparing for his return. You ate strawberries on your porch and basked in the golden sun, soaking in the heat. Your skin dripped in sweat, heart dripping in steadfast hope. 

In the winter, you faltered. You still hoped for his return, you still believed in his promise, but you started thinking about other possibilities. Though, you rarely entertained them. Another spring passed. And another summer. Another fall, winter, and spring. It was summer now, but the heat was more suffocating, the sunshine more of a nuisance.

Over the last winter, you grit your teeth and weathered your bones. You felt betrayal, deep in your gut. Had he lied? Just to keep you solitary? To keep you from chasing after him? To keep you away?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care. Did you?

You didn’t know.

You had given him everything, but he couldn’t keep a promise.

You forced yourself to separate the idea of him from who he really was. He was a man before he was yours. He craved the life that would offer him something to do. He craved you, but didn’t he crave others? Did he crave you, or did he crave someone to take care of him? 

Who was Joel Miller? Who was he, and who was he to you?

Was he even the type to come back to you? No. Probably not. Not when he’s lived through this for 22 years. Not when he’s seen his friends die. Not when he’s killed. He wasn’t the type to lay down and become a farmhand.

Besides, you saw the way he looked at Ellie. Part of you was sure that he’d never leave that girl. She meant more to him than he’d ever say. He was never just yours. He never would be. 

So you shoved the thought of him to the corners of your mind, rejecting it endlessly. You’d never let yourself think too hard about him, only ever letting his image flit about your mind like a lost butterfly. You shut him out and never sought him out again.

Another morning fell into your lap. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sound of alarms ringing out through the property jolted you awake. You rolled your head to the side to stretch a sore muscle, hand reaching under your bed for your rifle. No reason for alarm. Whatever it was, a stray infected or an animal, no doubt, would fall into one of your traps, or you’d pick it off without wasting a single bullet. All in a day’s work.

You slid on the first pair of shoes you could find, slipping out the door and making your way towards where the camera had signalled the breach. You groaned as you realized just how early it was, the sun barely illuminating the ground you stepped on. 

You held your rifle out as your eyes scanned the fence line. Nothing. It must have been one of the traps that set off the alarm. Sighing, you push the buttons on the padlock and it opens the gate. 

Moving to the nearest trap, you peek the muzzle of the rifle into the hole. It was still dark, but you made out a figure standing at the bottom of the pit.

“Move and I’ll fucking shoot you,” you yelled. No response, just the sound of heavy breathing. “You infected?”

Your name was whispered into the air like a breath of something you never thought you’d hear again. That beautiful, rugged, rich voice. The voice that you loved, so dearly. The voice that you hated.

“Joel?” 

“It’s me, honey,” he was breathless. It was almost as if it was his first moment of rest in twenty years. 

Your heart skipped a beat, breath faltering for a moment. You didn’t let the tears threatening to pool in your eyes spill. Instead, you threw your rifle to the side and got on your knees, reaching into the dark pit. “Take my hand.” 

Extending your hand, you almost immediately felt his large, rough one envelop yours. You used most of your strength to pull him up, him hoisting himself up once he got a good grip. He falls on top of you with the momentum, catching himself before his figure crushes yours. You could feel his heavy breath on your face, painting invisible lines of what you both want. A sea in his eyes, pooling with everything that’s happened since he left you, with everything he wanted to say, everything he wants to say. You lean into him a little, breath hitching and brows furrowing when he finally attaches his lips to yours. 

It was like an oxygen mask, breathing you to life. It was more desperate than any kiss you had shared. He was here, in your hands. He was alive. He was heart and flesh and blood and he was with you again.

Your arms pulled him in close until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled away to study his face. He didn’t meet your eyes, instead, absorbing every feature of your face that he had missed for so long.

You began to lift his shirt to see why he had groaned, but his hand on your wrist stopped you. 

“Joel,” you warned. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Take me to dinner first, hey?” He chuckled. He was stalling. He didn’t want you to see whatever was under his shirt.

You gave him a warning look before he gave in. Sitting up, you gently lifted his shirt. There wasn’t a concerning amount of blood for once, just small lacerations here and there that might need a few stitches. However, the skin underneath the marks was full of vibrant purples and blues and yellows, painted across the flesh of his abdomen like some sick piece of art. A small gasp left your lips at the sight, but Joel tilted your chin up to look at him, pulling his shirt down with his other hand. 

“Just fell, darlin’. I’d do it all again to get to you.” 

Heat spread across your face, tinting your cheeks. All the resentment you had for him fizzled away (but was it really resentment if you could forgive him with just one kiss? Or maybe that was just the power Joel had over you). 

“Let me patch you up, cowboy,” you said as you stood up, grabbing your rifle and pulling him up with you. “Come on.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Leading him through the house by his hand, the silence settled nicely. Something unspoken lingered between you two, remnants of what happened still drifting. Ideas of what might happen were tempting.

You led him to the bathroom, instructing him to sit on the counter. You opened the cabinet and grabbed everything you’d need. 

“It’s like every time we meet, you’re on the verge of death, Miller,” you said as you laid your supplies out.

He grunted. “Not on the verge of death right now, honey. Just a little banged up, is all.” You told him to take off his shirt. He did so without a word of protest. “I’m just lucky I’ve always got my favourite girl to patch me up.” His hands reached for you, wanting you to be close to him. He grabbed your hips and positioned you in front of him, between his legs. You didn’t look away from the cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach. 

“Not always, apparently,” you muttered under your breath as you began to dab his chest with a damp rag, washing away the brutality of what he went through to get to you. His brows furrowed, his hand moving to your wrist. 

“Don’t be like that, honey.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and going back to your task. You were both silent as you cleaned his chest, both avoiding eye contact.

You grabbed the dated peroxide. “Might hurt.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. He made no noise when you applied it to the areas of concern, but the cords in his neck tightened nonetheless. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, the desire to sooth him and shut him up with your mouth still clawing at you. He grunts in acknowledgement. You continued to clean him up, till all his wounds were stitched and his skin was clean of blood. 

“Done,” you finally spoke, throwing out the dirty rags and cleaning up. You went to move past him to get out of the bathroom, but he slid off the counter and blocked your exit. Your face was only a few inches from his chest. “Joel,” you warned, “let me out.”

“Not 'till you tell me why you’re so mad at me, darlin’,” he said, his voice gruff yet soft. His hands slid up and down your arms, which were on your hips. 

You tried to push past him again, but he didn't budge. 

You huffed, and his eyes softened, large hands moving to cup your face. “You don't know how much I missed you,” he said, brows furrowed. 

You closed your eyes. “I do know.” You felt him press his forehead to yours, and you reciprocated, hands moving to hold his wrists. You didn't have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You just wanted him. 

“Then let me show you,” he whispered, breath fanning over your lips, driving you wild. Everything about him was intoxicating. 

His lips found yours again, still needy and fervent, but there was something more. Something hungry. Something growing, something left over. 

He pushed you against the bathroom counter, hands moving across your body, touching you everywhere, anywhere he could. His hands ghosted over your breasts, across your thighs, rubbing your hips, caging you in. You whined, “Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. I just need more,” you said, breathless. 

At that, he placed you on top of the counter before he lifted your shirt from your body, “Nothin’ underneath? Knew I was comin’,” he said with a smirk. You were breathless as he kissed you again, sliding your pants off your body. He broke from your mouth to lay wet kisses on your neck and chest, biting and sucking his mark into your flesh. 

You whimpered when he gently ran a finger over your clothed core, bucking into his hand, desperate for anything more. He groaned when he felt how wet you were, your slick already pooling in your panties. He didn't have it in him to tease you. Not today. 

He slid your panties down your legs. You felt the heat of your core come in contact with the air, your slick beginning to drip down your thighs. He dropped to his knees, looking up at you with nothing but pure desire, want, need, and, dare you say, love? 

He kisses the soft inside of both thighs, your hands tangling in his hair, before his face hovers over your soaked core. He pressed his head into the inside of your thigh, running a finger through your folds. You moaned at the seating contact, watching as he brought his finger to his lips and captured your slick on his tongue. He moaned, “Missed this pussy.”

He played with your clit experimentally, just to see how wet you could get without his saliva, before the tempting sight of your pussy collapsed him. He dove in like a man starved, licking and sucking, spreading your folds apart to get further inside. Your hands still fisted in his hair as you moaned. He draped one hand across your abdomen to keep you still, hips bucking up into his mouth. 

His mouth was a magic ailment, drawing that familiar sensation from you in a matter of no time. The coil in your belly grew, hot and heavy, until his work on your cunt sent you over the edge, gripping his hair and moaning his name. 

“That's it, pretty girl. Give it to me,” he said as he worked you through your high. When he noticed you squirming, whispering “s’too much”, he moved from your core and up to your mouth. Your hands spread across his chest, still bare, as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your juices were smeared across his face, glistening in the hair there. 

“Take me to bed, cowboy,” you said against his lips.

“Yes Ma’am,” he breathed. He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body, and carried you to your bedroom. You pressed kisses across his neck and chest as he moved. 

When he laid you down on the bed, he caged you underneath him. You reached to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing it to the side. He removed his pants, and you began palming him over his boxers. He was rock hard, eating you out almost getting him there in itself. 

“Please,” you said, nearly inaudible. “Will you let me taste you?” You stroked his bulge. 

“Fuck, honey. How could I say no to that?” 

You rolled so you were on top of him, freeing his thick cock from its constraint. He sat up on the edge of the bed, you sinking between his legs. 

You stroked his cock, smearing the precum around the tip. He was sensitive. You could tell he hadn't had anyone since you, and he definitely didn't have the time to take care of himself. He groaned as you began giving kitten licks to his tip, hand fisting in your locks, not guiding you, just needing a place to find solace. 

“Gonna be the end of me,” he groaned when you put him fully in your mouth. He threw his head back, tears pricking your eyes when you tried to take him all. He was desperate for his release, but he was desperate to release inside of you even more. 

“Baby, m’ not gonna last. Wanna finish inside of you,” he groaned. You lifted your head from his cock, wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth, eyes wet. 

“So pretty. C’mere,” he said, gesturing to his lap. 

You climbed atop him. “Wanna ride you,” you said, sucking into his neck. 

“Fuck, okay. Okay, you can ride me honey,” he said. You were absolutely ruining him. 

You kissed him silly, straddling his lap. He was so enamoured with you, everything you did. The way you tasted, smelled, sounded. He was pussy drunk. 

You parted from him to run his tip through your entrance, still soaked with your cum and his saliva, collecting your wetness. Lining him up with your entrance, you moaned into each other’s mouths when you sunk down onto him. Allowing yourself a moment to feel him sheathed fully inside you, stretching you out, filling you up, letting your body remember the way you blended together, you kissed him with a renewed passion, something you thought had died. 

You held onto his shoulders as support, his large hands gripping your hips, gritting his teeth. When you lifted yourself off of him and back down, you set a desperate pace, grinding yourself down on his cock. 

“Not gonna last long, pretty thing,” Joel groaned, eyes fixed on where you were connected. You were too set on your release to care, you just knew you wanted him inside you forever. 

“Don’t care,” you gritted out, panting and out of breath. The noises filling the air were downright unholy, but neither of you had it in yourself to care. “Want you to fill me up.”

Joel growled, “Fuck, honey. Fill you up so good, you’ll be dripping out of me. That what you want?” He asked, landing a smack to your ass as you bounced on his cock. You moaned. Your release was right around the corner, your cunt clenching hard on his cock, thighs beginning to tremble. Joel moved a hand to circle your clit, hell-bent on getting you there. “So pretty,” Joel said, almost whimpering. “So good for me. Squeezin’ me so good.”

His words went straight to the fire growing in your core, your slick pooling at the base of his cock. Finally, the coil snapped, your orgasm dancing down your legs and up your body. Your thighs and frame trembled as you tried, you really tried, to keep bouncing on his cock, but your thighs were too weak at this point to keep going. Fixed on release, Joel flipped you so you were caged underneath him, barely missing a beat before spearing his cock into you. He swallowed your overstimulated whimpers. 

“Gonna make a mess out of you. Fuck, almost there,” he groaned. 

“Inside, inside, please,” you choked out, still delirious from your previous orgasm. However, you felt another one building inside of you, the friction of his body as it rubbed against yours added to your previous stimulation was enough to get you there again. You lazily toyed with your swollen clit, not having enough energy to focus, yet you knew it wouldn’t take much.

Joel barely noticed your state as his hips faltered in their pace, hitting that sweet spot so good. You had barely any control left over your body, but as he groaned and the muscles in his front tightened, the feeling of his hot seed filling you up was enough to send you into a frenzy. He groaned into your neck, your loud, wanton moans filling the air. As he filled you to the brim, you shook underneath him, your third orgasm overtaking you. 

When he had recovered, Joel looked down to where you both met, taking note of the creamy ring formed around the base of his cock. He grinned, still breathless, as he gently unsheathed himself from your core, watching you squirm and wrinkle your nose at the overstimulation. He laid down next to you, and you naturally curled into him. 

It was still morning, the rest of the day still ahead of you, but as Joel pulled the blanket over the two of you and watched your chest heave, he had the feeling that time didn’t matter anymore.

Your eyes fluttered open and met his. You noted how sore your body was, but the pull at your heart was no match. He had been watching you sleep, watching as you cuddled into his warmth and trusted him enough to hold you as you slept. The bright daylight filled the room, lighting up all his features, shining on the pretty grey in his hair and beard. 

“How’d you sleep, honey?” he asked, his voice gravelly. You could feel his heart beating as you laid against his chest. 

You hummed, “Better than I have in a long time.”

He smiled. There was a soft silence for a while as you just looked at each other, his hand stroking the skin of your face, kissing your cheeks and forehead, down the bridge of your nose, and ending at your lips. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Your easy grin faltered for a moment. “It’s okay. I just…” you breathed in, “I thought you were dead.” 

He pulled you into his chest. “I’m okay. ‘M right here, darlin’.”

You leaned into his touch, basking in the knowledge that you weren’t going to lose him again. 

“Come back to Jackson with me.” 

“Jackson? In Wyoming?”

He nodded.

“Joel, that’s far…” 

“I’ve made the trip twice now.”

You were silent for a few moments, thinking. He spoke again. “I know this is your home, and it’s been your home for years. And I-”

“Joel,” you cut him off. “Anywhere you go is my home. I’ll come to Jackson with you.”

Joel Miller’s smile was something rarer than diamonds or gold, but it appeared on his face as real as ever. 

Joel kissed you like the world had never ended, like you were his world. That’s because you were. 

A week of bliss later, you had packed everything you’d possibly think you’d need on one horse and two backpacks. You’d set all your cattle free to roam and disarmed your alarm system. You had made Joel map out your route to Jackson, ever the planner, going through every minute detail. Nights were spent wrapped around each other, and mornings were spent wrapped around the blankets. You spoke of the life you would have together in Jackson, spoke about Ellie, spoke about everything. 

Often, you’d look up at Joel and be met with a punch to the gut. The idea that the man you spent two years of your life praying for, standing right in front of you? It hit you out of nowhere sometimes. It was hard to be thankful in a world like this, in a world that did nothing but take and take and take from you. It was hard to believe that he was really here, that the world gave you something good for once. Sometimes, you’d have to touch him, really touch him, just to make sure he was really here. Just to make sure you hadn’t finally gone crazy and started to imagine him. 

You began to fear that the world was going to whisk him away from you. Maybe a clicker would get him, or maybe a stalker. Maybe you’d react too slow, too quick, too late, too poorly, and he’d try to save you. Maybe he’d get another infection. God knows that man does not take care of himself. 

These fears plagued your mind day and night, awake and asleep. They brushed your thoughts when he touched you, fingers working you into a puddle, you melting into him. These thoughts were unspoken, never would they be said aloud, or they just might seize you in your sleep and become real.

When you got to Jackson, the fear of losing him never ceased, but you did come to realize something. 

You realized that what you were feeling, this utter, disgusting dread and fear of losing the one you love the most, was completely natural.

You loved Joel with all of yourself, and you knew that if anything happened to him, you’d lose all of yourself too. 

After so long, your hearts were molded to one another, holding on for dear life. And you’d spend that life together. Truly and forever.

series taglist: @winters-fairy @charlyrmv @gvfslayallday @cloudroomblog @lol-im-done @freyafriggafrey @jasminedragoon @daddy-din @dealswiththedevilsblog @coolchick333 @rizzetteee @m3laniehearts @fuglyputa24 @daixylie @mi0o @kissykris @c0wb0ym3nace @snixx2088 @randomstory56 @mmeerraa @doublevirgogirl @daydreamerblues @onlyrealjoy @happinessinthebeing @leathargic @violenttsoho @gingerdarkroast @intoxicatedapple @callsign-athena @cherriebat @sofiparallel @textsfromeponinet​ 

tlou taglist: @jordie-gvf @sunxflowerxx @themusingkitten @anxiety-made @mmerraa 

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs 

[devilat-thedoor]

Smile Pretty 2

A/N: it’s been quite some time since i put anything out. and i know this probably isn’t what most people are hoping for from me, but i simply couldn’t stop thinking about this. (half credit to my sun, liana fr, because she multiplies my brainpower by 76000000. so. HUUUUUGE shoutout to @stardustvanfleet and @jakesguitarsolo for being my favorite people ever and offering a never ending stream of jake thoughts. i love you both endlessly and you don’t even understand how much i appreciate you🩵

Word Count: 4.2k

Jake x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI(Oral[f rec], Unprotected Sex, Spit, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Power struggle???, a bit of praise, teensy bit of cumplay, Camera Use, very light impact play) if there was anything i may have missed, please do not hesitate to tell me!

Making your way down the corridor, you watched the room numbers as you went, searching for 623. Tour had started a month ago and you hadn’t seen Jake since the day he left; you were supposed to visit him a week ago, but your work schedule got messed up and you couldn’t make the trip. He was disappointed and you swore you’d make it up to him, but what he didn’t know is that you’d already arranged new plans and, with Josh’s help, you were currently strolling down the hallway of their hotel to surprise your boyfriend. You stopped in front of his door, flipping the keycard through your fingers and shaking out your nerves. Holding the card up to the reader, you paused, leaning in to press your ear against the door. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth at what you were hearing; a series of grunts and groans that were unmistakably Jake’s…but there were other sounds too. More moans, quieter than his, but they were feminine. He’s watching porn?

You pressed the keycard to the door and listened to the confirming beeps before pushing it open. Jake was shifting fast, all but tossing his phone across the room as he yanked a pillow over his legs to cover the evidence of whatever he was doing. “Goddammit, Josh. Just because you have the extra key doesn’t mean- Shit…” His eyes went wide when you stepped into his view.

“Surprise…” You couldn’t hide the smirk on your lips as he gazed at you like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Closing the door, you dropped your bag to the floor and took a few steps toward the bed, “Did I interrupt something, baby?” You stopped when your knees hit the edge of the mattress and crossed your arms over your chest to stare at him with an eyebrow raised.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before taking a second to swallow back the odd anxiety that seemed to rise in him. “I’m just…surprised…to see you. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming? I- uhhh. I would’ve planned for dinner or something.” He was slowly sitting up straighter but the pillow remained in his lap. “Actually, dinner sounds great, I’m sure we can find something quick…Can you- I should grab a quick shower before we go…Will you start the water for me, babe?” You would’ve gone along with Jake’s poor attempt at a subject change had he not kept glancing at his phone, laying face down at the bottom of the bed. He watched your head turn slowly, your eyes landing on the device as you chewed on your lip, and tried to bring your attention back to him. “Hey! Danny said something about a great Mexican place not too far from here… Supposedly they have, like, award winn…ing…” His voice trailed off as you mindlessly nodded your head, your arms falling to your side.

“Uh huh…” You lunged for his phone and he tried to snatch it up before you but it was too late. Your fingers curled around it and you rolled off of the bed and scurried across the room, “What were you watching, Jake?” You illuminated the screen and typed his passcode in as he clambered out of the bed, trying desperately to tuck away the obvious tent in his tight boxers. “Everybody watches porn, Jacob. Why are you being so secretive? Is it like- OH GOD… Is it kinky shit?” You chuckled as the screen opened up to whatever he was watching and you clicked the play button.

“Babe, let me just-.” He reached for the phone but you held your finger up and twisted out of his reach.

You were speechless as you tried to comprehend what you were watching. “Oh…Oh…” Met with an image that you were quite familiar with, you glanced at Jake and back to the phone. It was the little film project that you two had made before he left and you’d almost forgotten about it until now. “Jake-.”

He cut you off, reaching for the phone again, “Okay, just shut it off.” A huff of frustration escaped him when you ducked beneath his arm and moved to the opposite side of the room. “C’mon. Would you just- turn it off, babe.” He was coming after you again, but you stayed planted in place, your eyes glued to the screen as a grin stretched over your face.

“No… I haven’t even got to watch this yet. How many times have you watched it?” You met him with an accusatory expression and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “...thought so… Let’s watch together.” You shrugged as you kicked your shoes off and climbed onto the bed, resting against the headboard. When he didn’t follow suit, you paused the video and patted the space beside you that he was occupying when you’d arrived. “Come on. We made it together, we can watch it together…Baby, come sit down and watch the fucking sex tape with me.” You whined through your giggles as you tapped the bed again.

Jake finally relented, heaving out a sigh, and climbed onto the bed to settle in alongside you. “You don’t think it’s weird to sit and watch ourselves fuck?” He took the phone from your hand and scrolled the bar the whole way to the beginning before looking at you.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I think you’re being weird… What was the point of making it if we weren’t gonna- Wait. Do you just…not want me to watch it? Because you obviously have… More than once.” You turned to face him completely, awaiting a response.

“I like watching you, angel…” He spoke genuinely, grasping your hand in his. “No cliche porno could ever compare to what you do. So yeah… I’ve watched it a few times.”

You could feel the heat spreading across your cheeks at his admission. “Baby….” Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, dragging a hand along his thigh. He was leaning further into you, anticipating the path that your fingers were taking, but you stopped before they could reach his boxers and pulled back from the kiss with a teasing smirk. “Press play, Jake.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he let out a frustrated huff before complying with your request. Snuggling in closer to your boyfriend, you viewed quietly, watching yourself on the screen as you strutted towards the camera, peeling your robe off. “Wow…my tits look fucking great.” Jake had a hand resting on your leg, giving a gentle squeeze in agreement to your statement. You bit down on your lip at his dialogue in the video as you smiled up at the lens and began to stroke him, “You’re never that bold when we’re just having sex…” It was a thought that tumbled from your lips and made him turn to you.

“What does that even mean? I’m not bold?” He paused the video and put his phone on the nightstand. “I’m fucking bold… Don’t act like I don’t make you cum every time we fuck, you know I do.”

You took notice of how he began to breathe a little harder as a note of irritation radiated from him. “Baby, that’s not what I’m saying… I just mean that-.” You thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain what you meant, when an idea struck you. “I don’t know, Jake. I mean, yeah… The sex is always good, don’t get me wrong, but-.”

He cut you off abruptly, “But what?” He watched you bite your lips together with a shrug and he stood from the bed, “No. What the fuck were you gonna say? The sex is always good, but what?” Jake was growing more irritated with each second of silence that passed but you were keen to the stiff bulge in his boxers and decided to press a little harder.

“It’s just kind of…boring. Or- What’s the word they use? Vanilla.” It took everything in you to keep your laughter down as his eyes practically turned red. “Jake. Baby, it’s fine… I don’t need exciting sex.” You climbed off of the bed then, turning your back to him with the fear that you wouldn’t be able to keep up your act, “The way you do things is…alright…I guess.” When you turned around to look at him again, he was fuming. You had him right where you wanted him and a flood of arousal rushed to your panties at the dark expression he wore. His nostrils were flaring, chest rising and falling rapidly with angry huffs, but he remained quiet. “Uhh. I have to pee.” You offered him an innocent smile before scurrying into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. The look on his face was one that you didn’t see very often but knew very well and it made you clench your thighs together in need. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you tried to prepare for what could happen when you eventually walked out of the bathroom. Would he be angry with you and give you the silent treatment? Or… Would he try to prove you wrong? You knew Jake was nowhere near vanilla, but teasing him was always the fastest route to the best sex with him. But…did you take it too far this time?

You took one last steadying breath and unlocked the door to step out of the bathroom. With no time to register what was happening, Jake had his hand loosely wrapped around your throat with your back pinned to the wall, an amused smirk on his face at the way you gasped in surprise. “You think you’re so goddamn smart, huh?” He leaned in close, his nose pressing into your cheek as he dropped his voice to a whisper, “If you wanted me to treat you like a whore, no-… My sweet little cumslut, right?” He chuckled condescendingly as you whimpered at his degrading names, squeezing your legs tighter. “Ask nicely, angel… You don’t have to be a fucking brat to get what you want, understand?” Releasing your throat, he watched as you nodded your head obediently. “Good girl… Take your clothes off and put your palms flat on the mattress.”

Complying immediately, you shredded every piece of fabric from your body and paused to look at him, “Jake, I-.” You shut your mouth when he shook his head silently and pointed towards the bed. Making the short walk, you were vibrating with anticipation at what was about to come. You could feel Jake getting closer as you bent down, placing your palms atop the warm duvet. His hand was on your ass in an instant, ghosting up over your spine and back down to caress your thigh before settling on your lower back. Everything was still for a moment and you almost opened your mouth to question until his free hand came down hard on your asscheek. “Fuck!” You cried out, mostly from the shock of it, but there was a slight sting left in the wake of his palm.

“So you think I’m vanilla?” He was rubbing his hand up and down your inner thigh when you began to stutter out an answer, but his touch left you at loss, unable to utter a response, and that wasn’t good enough for him. Jake reeled his hand back, delivering another slap; this time to the spot he was just pampering. “Words, angel. Use them.” He paused for a moment to admire the way you began panting and shifting your weight back and forth between your feet. “Tell me again about how boring I am.”

A shiver rippled through your body as he bent down to whisper in your ear, but you managed to keep a small bit of composure. “I- I don’t know, Jake… There’s just…a lack of excitement…” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tilted your head to look at him.

“A lack of excitement, huh?” He was grinning wide as he straightened back up and exited your line of sight. “See… now I know you’re lying-” He disappeared suddenly; his touch gone, you couldn’t see him in your peripherals. Just as you began to say his name, you felt him. His large hands gripping your ass and thighs to slip a thumb through your slick folds. “-because if there’s no excitement, your pussy wouldn’t be dripping like this.” 

“Jake, please…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for but you couldn’t stop. “Please don’t tease me… I missed you so fucking much.” You were whining as you pushed back against his hands.

Jake chuckled, clearly amused at your desperation, “Needy little thing… What do you want from me, sweet girl?” His voice was saccharine sweet, tinged with a bit of something else. Mischief, maybe?

You contemplated begging on your hands and knees until a better idea struck you. “Well, baby… Prove to me just how bold you can be.”

A low growl rumbled out from behind you, the sound echoing through the room. “Yeah, I’ll fucking show you…” His hand weaved through your hair, grabbing a healthy fistful as he pulled you up from the bed. You could feel the heat emanating from him as he held your back flush against his chest to speak, “Let’s see if you can keep up, angel.” In a flash, he was shoving you back down, making sure your chest was pressed into the mattress before he released you. He knelt down behind you, spreading you open to spit directly onto you. The feeling of his spit dripping from your cunt made you shudder but he didn’t give you much time to process as he burrowed his face between your thighs. Jake’s tongue lashed rapidly at your clit before he tightened his lips around the bud.

“Jesus, Jake! Wh- Fuck…” You clawed at the fluffy, white comforter, crying out shamelessly as he devoured you. It didn’t take long for your legs to begin trembling at the way his tongue slipped through your folds and his nose nudged your entrance. You were toeing the edge of a cliff, awaiting your fall with one final push from him, “Don’t stop… Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jacob. I- Oh God, please! I’m g-. What the hell, Jake!” You whipped around to glare at him, your chest heaving and knees weak, but he was standing up from the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He was grinning wide, showcasing his perfect teeth, when you stood straight to meet him face to face. Just as you started to scold him, he gripped your jaw, smashing his lips against your own and pushing his tongue into your mouth. When he broke the kiss, he spun you back around, pressing his covered erection against your ass, “You thought I was gonna let you cum that quick? After all the shit you talked?” He cackled loud and the sound lit a new kind of fire in your blood. Jake was sure he had you at his mercy and you used that to your advantage, forcing out a weak whimper. “Awwe… don’t whine, baby… If you want something, all you have to do is tell me. Use your words. Remember?” He was sliding his boxers off as he spoke.

You could hear the smirk in his tone and that’s when you made your move. Faster than the speed of light, you whipped around, catching Jake by his throat, and flipped him onto the bed. It was clear he was caught off guard by the way he began to stammer. You pulled the boxers from his ankles before crawling over him, “What’s the matter, Jakey baby? Did you forget how to use your words?” Giggling at his scowl, you sat on his chest, keeping his arms pinned beneath your knees. “I think it was a little rude, that stunt you pulled before… Don’t you think?” You kept your voice sweet, pouting your lip at him.

“I think you deserved it.”

“Hmm… I see.” You scooted further up his torso, making sure he couldn’t wiggle his arms out from under you. “How about you make me cum with that mouth that you love to run so much…and maybe I’ll see if you deserve a reward afterwards, hmm?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow at you in challenge, “Sure, angel… Won’t take too long anyways.”

The look he was giving you made butterflies erupt in your stomach as you began to settle over his mouth, slowly lowering yourself. “If you say s- SHIT!” The second his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, your eyes were rolling. You gripped tightly onto his hair as you started to rock against his face, “Oh- Oh fuck…” There was no doubt that he knew exactly how to use his mouth and that was evident by the way he had you quickly unraveling atop of him. You tried your hardest to hold yourself together, but Jake had managed to slip himself lower so that his tongue was prodding at your entrance. He groaned into your cunt before he began thrashing his head back and forth, his nose flicking repeatedly over your clit. “Jake, I- I’m-...” Your words trailed off into a series of moans as your legs started to shake and close around his head. He didn’t slow down in the slightest and if his hands were free, he’d have you pinned down to his mouth, making sure he got every bit of your orgasm out of you before you could move… But he wasn’t in control and once the overstimulation hit, you scrambled off of his face and sat back on his chest as you fought to catch a breath.

He rubbed his palms up and down your thighs to try to stop their trembling. The touch was so sweet and affectionate, but the moment didn’t last long. “How about you quit pretending like you’re holding the reins and let me take over again, beautiful?”

“Baby, if you want the reins, you gotta take ‘em.” You flashed him a sickeningly sweet smile and when he began to respond, you reached behind you to wrap your hand around his stiff cock. Holding eye contact with him, you started to stroke him slowly, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, Jake… Were you gonna say something?” Everytime he opened his mouth, you squeezed him a little tighter to make his breath catch. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He was glaring up at you as you removed your hand to maneuver your body over his throbbing length. “And you said I love to run my mouth? You’re a goddamn tease.”

Your hand shot out to grasp his jaw, “I may be a tease, but I always give you what you want in the end, don’t I?” As your sentiment concluded, you sunk onto him; your mouth hung open and Jake subconsciously mimicked your expression as he held onto your waist. Once he was buried completely inside of you, your head dropped back, “Hmm… so fucking thick, baby…” After a moment of adjustment, you leaned down to peck his lips, catching his bottom one between your teeth with a moan and pulling before allowing it to snap back.

He stared at the point where your bodies connected as you raised slowly and dropped back down. “Ride it like you fucking own it, angel.” Jake commanded through husky breaths and the sound of his voice made you clench around him. Anchoring your hands on his chest, you took his words to heart and began bouncing, adding a slight twirl to your hips with every drop. “There you go- fuuuuck. Just like that…” He slid his hands from your waist to grab a handful of your ass before resting them at your hips.

The sound of your skin smacking together echoed off the walls, only overshadowed by Jake’s husky groans and your heavy breaths, as you rode him. You were focused on his face, the look of pure ecstasy he wore as his eyes continuously fluttered shut, “You like that, Jakey?” Slowing your movements, you opted for a change. Leaning back, you placed your hands on his thighs behind you for leverage and started to rock against him. When his mouth dropped open and he began bucking up into you, a smile formed on your face. “You like when I fuck you like this, Jake?” Your voice was sultry and low, “When I claim your fat cock like this, hmm?”

Just as you found a steady rhythm, his grasp on your hips tightened and he flipped you off of him to quickly climb over you. “Such a mouthy little whore, huh?” He moved so fast that you didn’t stand a chance in fighting for your dominance. He had your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned down, effectively pressing your knees into your chest, “You just got too goddamn cocky…” Jake slammed back into you, filling you up entirely as you cried out and grabbed blindly at his arms and clamped your eyes shut. He immediately grabbed your chin with one hand while he cupped your cheek with the other, “Nuh uh. Open those eyes and fucking look at me… I wanna make sure you know who makes you fucking cum like this, angel.” His thrusts were unrelenting, hitting the sweetest spot inside of you, and when you finally managed to pry your eyes open to stare into his large brown ones, he drew his hips back and dove back in with an impossibly deep stroke.

“J- fuck. Jaaake….” His name clambered out of your mouth in a mess of broken whimpers as your legs began to shake around his head. “Oh my God! FUCK, Jake!” Your nails dug deep into his forearms as he held your head steady and continued pounding into you, fucking you through your second climax.

“That’s it, sweet girl… Say it again. Let everyone know who makes your pussy cry, angel…” He gave a short, condescending chuckle as you breathlessly muttered his name for a third time. “That’s my good girl…” Suddenly he pulled out, letting your legs down, and turned you over onto your stomach. You were too dazed, stuck in a fucked-out fog, to question. But he slipped back into you to chase his own release, “You want me to fill this sweet cunt, pretty girl?”

You could feel your eyes going crossed as you clawed at the thick comforter beneath you, “Yes- fuck…” The pressure was building again, faster than the last two times and you began to beg, “Please, Jake… I want it, baby… Need you so fucking- bad.” Your moans were growing louder and drawing him closer to the brink.

He pressed a palm flat to your back to pin you against the mattress and fucked into you with hard, punctuated thrusts. “You want it, angel? I’ll fucking give it to you… Sounds so pretty when you beg for my cum.” His voice was strangled, groans vibrating from somewhere within his chest and you offered one last plea that sent him over the edge. Jake buried himself deep, a single ‘oh fuck’ leaving his lips before you felt him empty his sticky release inside of you, the feeling bringing you to a third and final orgasm. He was hunched over your back for a moment as he caught his breath, but when he finally pulled out, he flipped you back over and pushed your legs apart. Watching him through droopy, exhausted eyes, you heard him click his tongue a few times before he was dragging a finger over your folds, your body shivering at the contact. “Fucking begged for it and the little cumslut can’t even hold it all in… Feels a little disrespectful to waste, hmm?” He pondered to himself as he gathered his dripping seed with two fingers and pushed it back into your pussy. The overstimulation had you trying to squeeze your legs shut, but it didn’t stop him from finger fucking his cum back into you, “Aht… Almost done, angel…” When he removed his digits, he held them up to your mouth and you welcomed them happily, lapping the mix of release from them.

He finally collapsed beside you, allowing you to roll over and cuddle against him with a lazy smile, “Okay, I take it back, baby… You’re pretty fucking bold. Jesus Christ, that was…” You trailed off, giving him a soft kiss.

His hand rubbed gently up and down your back as a cocky grin began to stretch across his face. He pointed behind you, “Thank you, beautiful… but can you say that one more time to the camera?” You lifted your head to see his phone set up against the lamp on the nightstand. “Or that one…” He pointed to the dresser on the opposite side of the room where he had your phone set up to capture a different angle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sat up to glare at him, trying to hide your own grin.

He simply shrugged, “Now you can watch it as much as I will.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows before pulling back down for another kiss.

.

.

.

.

.

lil taglist for friends i think may enjoy this😌

@ignite-my-fire @gvfpal @mybussyinchrist @ageofbajabule @klarxtr