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pedrospatch · 10 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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sunghoonsslut · 1 year

Text

Knock Down P.SH

18+ Content MDNI SMUT NSFW

Genre: PWP SMUT 18+, Boxing AU, Gym trainer AU, College setting

Pairing: (Dom)Boxer Sunghoon X (Sub)Afab Reader

Warnings: Smut (Minor Do Not Interact), MC is Right handed, She/Her pronouns used in reference to MC, teasing, Handsy/touchy Hoon, strength kink, size kink, fingering, edging, mean hoon, public sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it), handjob, Cumming inside, ridding, orgasm denial/control, Mc knows nothing about boxing (and neither does the writer), somewhat manhandling, unspecified but MC is smaller than Sunghoon, name calling (Baby, Slut, Loser), 2 thigh slaps, big dick hoon :) I THINK that’s everything?? Please lmk if you think I missed anything

WC: 10.6k (This was supposed to be a short blurb like 3k max just to slowly introduce myself cnjsdvnwvn but here we are)

Song rec: Sweat by Anthony Watts

Preview : His amused chuckle hits your ear chest vibrating against your back moving any stray flyaway hairs away from your neck “What’s got you so distracted?” He whispers into your ear breath hot against your skin, catching the way you relax into his touch, stepping back slightly, getting closer to him.

LAST WARNING PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS LIST THOROUGHLY THIS IS 18+ CONTENT

“Come on, please I don’t want to do this alone,” Your friend is begging, pulling at your sleeve and distracting you with drawn-out pleads pressing her weight on your shoulder bringing you off center and away from the pile of work in front of you.

“Since when did you want to join a gym? When I suggested it last summer you said- and I quote, ‘I get plenty of dick so there isn’t a use, when I already get my cardio in’ End quote,” You pull free of her grip, smoothing out the fabric she had bunched up with an annoyed huff turning back towards the practically blank document on your laptop.

“I know but now it’s different, we could go together! And look,” She’s shoving her phone in your face so you have no choice but to watch her screen “They're offering two free boxing lessons for new joiners, the student discount is also a blessing,” She rants off the list of appealing offers listed on the gym’s website, swiping through photos to show off the luxury areas they have and how big of a place it is with a number of tennis courts, an indoor and outdoor swimming area, boxing ring, and generalized work out sections depending on what you want to do.

You groan shoving her hand away “If I say yes will you stop bugging me so I can finish this assignment,” You cave, knowing she’d continue on like this if you didn’t agree because if there is one thing your friend is, it’s persistent as she sits back in her seat grinning from ear to ear typing away on her form, filling out her information, quiet, finally settling back into your work groove. Typing away on the computer a tedious list of unanswered questions sits on the screen dual tabs opened on the laptop with the curriculum's textbook on the other side of the questions. Scrolling through skimming the lines that blur in front of you until the oncoming headache is too much and the number of questions has at least dwindled down to a mere fourteen instead of the thirty-seven you began with.

Stretching out you close the laptop only somewhat satisfied by the dent you managed to make in your work “Finally,” She swivels her chair next to you bringing out her phone, a lengthy form staring back at you.

“Can this wait till my brain isn’t fried?” You massage at your temples blinking at her phone, too mentally drained to even begin thinking about another screen to answer questions on.

nudging you in the side hard enough to leave a bruise she stays stern “You said you’d do it, no backing out now,” You mumble out a few choice words begrudgingly taking her phone to fill out the form with your information, selecting various options with your friend propped on your shoulder watching you carefully, too tired to swat her away.

It’s going smoothly getting through about half the questions, mostly basic questions about yourself when she interrupts you with an exasperated gasp causing you to pause “What are you doing? Say yes!” Your finger hovers over the No option under the question ‘Are you interested in our boxing program (The first two lessons are free for beginners)’.

“Boxing?” You turn your head to look at her eyes narrowing on her, having never mentioned anything about wanting to try boxing in the past ten years you've known her.

“Why not, it’s free,” she clicks on the yes button for you, freshly manicured nails sounding out against the screen, selecting the Beginners option from the drop-down menu when it asks for your experience level.

You let her do it not wanting to break into another argument, slumping forward slightly “You're not going to flake on me like you did when you said we should sign up for tennis are you?” She scrolls to the next section ignoring the question you asked “See this wasn’t so bad now you just gotta put in your student information for the discount and your card information,”

You don’t miss her attempt at deflecting, taking the phone back to fill in the remaining spots. Trying to believe she’d commit to this since it was her idea “It’s gonna be great!” She pats you on the back, ‘a fun activity for the two of you' At least that’s how you reasoned it to be only semi-hopeful with her long list of previous commitments that lasted a week tops.

——

After only three days you’re waking up to messages with excuses of why she can’t join your gym sessions with a suddenly packed schedule; study sessions, dates, sorority events, Frat parties, a lab, you name it she’s suddenly there, there being: anywhere but the gym; making it clear she has no intention to continue using her membership, leaving you to go alone. Having already paid for the first month you might as well get some use out of it. Mentally noting you’d just cancel the subscription before it charges you for the upcoming month.

Today wasn’t any different, phone vibrating in your pocket the second you entered the gym with her ‘So, SO sorry, I really can’t today, woke up sore :(’ text message making you groan clicking your phone off without bothering to reply. It didn’t necessarily come as a surprise her ditching you as she has been the last few weeks but the least she could have done was show up for the boxing lesson she essentially forced on you, especially with a confirmation email a week in advance from the instructor, Sunghoon, and her assuring you that she ‘wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ over the phone the day before.

Setting your bag down by the boxing area of the gym contemplating if you should just leave, you didn’t even want to box in the first place. Weighing your options you scroll through your feed, images of your friend at a party the night before popping up after a few random sponsored posts building up annoyance clenching your jaw swiping through a thread to see the progression of just how drunk she had gotten. The photos get progressively blurry and unfocused with each swipe, the last photo being so fuzzy it’s hard to even recognize her sitting on the lap of some frat guy making out.

You reach for your bag deciding to leave before the instructor shows up, maybe eat a pint of ice cream and watch some dated movie that aged badly to drown out your annoyance instead of subjecting yourself to an hour of bag punching “Hey,” a voice speaks out drawing you away from your phone to glimpse up at the new voice before you can back out dropping your hand and taking in the man standing in front of you his breathtaking appearance, freshly bleached hair, pointed jawline, and beautiful beauty marks dot his face like a constellation, a constellation you could easily get lost in forever looking at.

“I think one other person is joining us so we can wait a bit to see if they’ll come,” he sets his water bottle next to your things stretching his built arms across his body as if he couldn't get more attractive. You set your head back slightly conflicted, no way you could walk out now, not without a reasonable excuse at least, and it’s not like you could say he had the wrong person with the area being completely empty aside from the two of you.

You look back at him as he’s setting things up before you find your voice “She’s not,” it comes out sounding more bitter than you intended watching the way he raises an eyebrow silently questioning how you could know that.

“I mean,” You take in a deep breath poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue trying to bite back the things you really want to say, “she’s my friend, and sent me a message saying she couldn’t make it.. sick” you backtrack explaining your reaction which softens his features.

“I see, I prefer one on one anyways, easier to focus, you’ve got my undivided attention,” he assures you, pushing his hair out of his face, eyes looking over you, in the matching workout attire you choose to wear, making sure to wear your hair out of your face as he suggested in the email silently glad that your friend canceled so he could get someone as stunning as you alone to himself.

Stretching his arms high above his head, your eyes skim over the definition of his muscles seeing how strong he is watching the faint flex of his arm eyes trailing down to where skin peeks out from where his shirt rises showing off a bit of his toned abdomen shorts hanging low enough on his hips to show the V line, making you sweat without having even started yet “Go easy on me?” voice shifting tone with nerves slightly cracking, you look back over his face, soft smile an antithesis to the rest of his body language.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to throw you around just yet,” he assures you with a wink hearing the infliction in your voice, finding it cute how nervous he makes you.

“We’ll start easy, you want to show me how you think you’re supposed to stand?” Sunghoon motions for you to take the floor and demonstrate, eyes widening at the request, suddenly even standing was a doubtful action.

Raising from where you were sitting you scratch over your neck avoiding looking at your instructor, “So, I’ve never actually boxed before…” you shuffle your weight from foot to foot trying to focus on anything else “I’ve never even watched a boxing match,” You admit, slightly embarrassed having not even looked up a youtube video for the basics in preparation.

He lets out a laugh that echoes off the empty walls of the usual lively gym deserted with classes in full swing across campus, taking a step closer to you, but keeping just enough space so you aren’t uncomfortable, “that’s okay, I don’t expect you to be able to knock me out, I’m just curious I’ll fix your stance,” uncertain you stand with your legs slightly apart and bring your fists up in front of your chest.

Encircling around you his eyes take in the way you’ve stood it feels wrong, especially under his sharp eyes analyzing you making you subconsciously straighten up as Sunghoon goes into instructor mode, “Can I touch you?” His eyes meet yours as soon as he’s done looking over you, waiting for a response before he does anything, your throat feeling hoarse “Y-yeah,” you mentally slap yourself for tripping over your words clearing your throat. Stopping behind you, you can hear his soft chuckle hit your ears, finding the little hiccup “cute,” sending a shudder through your body.

Sunghoon’s hands make contact with your waist fingers pressing in just enough to slightly indent “Okay, now are you right or left-handed?” his hands are warmer than you thought they’d be noting how they sat against your skin bigger than yours as he holds you perfectly.

“Right,” you answer still focused on the mere size difference between you both “We’re gonna bring your right leg back, a little bit wider than shoulder width,” he’s explaining breath fanning over your neck as he starts his demonstration, his left hand continues to rest on your waist, right hand trailing down and cupping your hip applying slight pressure to let you know to step back and angle yourself following his lead. Sunghoon lets you adjust to the new stance habitually rubbing your hip with his thumb as you try and focus on what he’s saying.

“That’s good, This base stance makes you appear smaller so you’re not as big of a target as for your hands you just gotta bring them up by your head and raise your shoulders…” you can’t help the way your mind drifts fixated on his hand rubbing your hip, subtly pressing harder and wondering how they’d feel elsewhere with how easily you fit in his grip hands against your body expertly, eyes falling closed, losing yourself in the feeling momentarily you breathe out a small “yeah,” mindlessly replying mid-explanation without realizing it.

Pausing his instructions the side of his lips raises “You got that then?” He stills his hands waiting for a response knowing fully well he didn’t even finish his entire explanation and you return back to what’s going on “Hm?” You let out confused blinking to yourself realizing you zoned out halfway through his directions.

His amused chuckle hits your ear chest vibrating against your back moving any stray flyaway hairs away from your neck “What’s got you so distracted?” He whispers into your ear breath hot against your skin, catching the way you relax into his touch, stepping back slightly, getting closer to him.

“Nothing, I just..” you try to think up excuses, but the only thing that comes to mind is the way Sunghoon’s muscular body feels pressed against yours, licking over your lip feeling dryer than usual now as you try and figure out what to say.

“Don’t worry it’s just the two of us, tell me what you were thinking about?” He reminds you of the empty area fingers ghosting over your side with feathering touches that feel like electricity driving you crazy.

“It’s just your hand..” You lose your train of thought momentarily when he resumes his ministrations massaging your side as if asking you to continue reminding you exactly why you interrupted him.

Nose presses up against your neck inhaling against your skin “What about my hands?” The proximity makes it difficult to focus, almost dizzying, letting your shoulders drop and relaxing into his body further feeling closer than before, head lolling to the side giving him more access, tempting to kiss over the expanse of your neck that he can reach.

You’re resisting the urge to mewl out with every move of his hands pressing into you deeper with a bruising grip while inching inwards dangerously close to your center “They-” You don’t finish your thought when the sound of someone clearing their throat sounds out against the room “Damn, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Leaning against the entrance to the boxing area Jay watches the two of you with arms crossed gym bag hanging low off his shoulder, and a raised eyebrow, amused. Sunghoon unimpressed meets his friend's eyes from where he stands behind you looking over you once more trying to memorize the way you look under his temptation in this moment before creating some distance between you regrettably, giving his friend the side eye you’re jolted out of the almost hypnotic trance Sunghoon had on you.

“Just doing a lesson,” Sunghoon grits out annoyed with the sudden intrusion on his instruction cracking his knuckles.

“I can see that,” Jay chuckles looking over you for a second before stepping further into the gym “Hee and I are just gonna spar for a bit so don’t mind us,” He explains heading over to the practice ring in the middle of the room, hiking his gym bag up his arm.

Embarrassment rushes through your face feeling hot with emotion just with how you were acting you bury your head into a nearby punching bag “Get it together…” you mumble to yourself trying to reassure yourself it’s just a boxing lesson and shouldn’t be getting hot and bothered like this from feeling up your instructor.

“Hey it’s okay,” Sunghoon tries to reassure you, pulling you away and off the bag wanting to get back to teaching now that Jay decided to insert himself into things and make things difficult.

Bouncing in through the door, Heeseung glances around for Jay sight landing on you and Sunghoon, eyes double taking on you. straightening up and walking towards the two of you, not even bothering to look at Jay who’s in the complete opposite direction.

You look over at the familiar figure making his way over to you as if you couldn’t get more embarrassed, Sunghoon sees the way you shy away from his friend and turns to talk to him.

“Didn’t see you guys on the schedule for using the ring,” Sunghoon explains to Heeseung who just gives him a hum more interested in talking to you.

“So, you’re taking boxing lessons?” Hee asks starting to wrap his hands almost expertly only looking down to confirm it’s in the right places but his attention seems fixated on you.

“Oh yeah, my friend signed us up for them,” You explain looking down at Heeseung’s hands with interest unsure how he was able to do that so quickly.

Sunghoon clears his throat slightly, bringing your attention back to him, eyes finding his “So you know Heeseung?” Sunghoon asks, wondering exactly how much you knew about his friend.

“Yeah, he helped me out with figuring out some of the equipment a few days ago,” you explain the memories and feelings of embarrassment flooding through you as if just a few seconds ago wasn’t bad enough.

Cursing out as you try and figure out how exactly this machine worked having just seen some guy using it not too long ago you sit in a similar position attempting to use it but nothing budging, about to give up and move on to something else, something you know, a treadmill is easy enough to navigate.

“Hey, you need to change the weight on it,” a voice explains, smiling softly and pointing to the weights on the side catching you off guard unaware someone was watching you struggle as you make eye contact with the guy to your side who must’ve been working out close by with the way his hair drips with sweat sides of his face lined with droplets water bottle in his hand.

Burying your face in your hands you shake your head “Sorry… I don’t do this a lot…” you mumble as the guy fixes up the amount of weight looking you over to try and gauge how much you could handle while also getting a better look at how pretty you are.

“Give that a try, let me know if it’s too much or if you need more,” he waits for you to use it, nodding you pull and it moves with a bit of pressure as opposed to before.

You let out a relieved sigh giving the stranger a small nod “Works great… thanks…” you pause having not caught his name as he shoots you a wink “Heeseung, anything at all don’t hesitate to ask,” he offers before running off to finish his own workout.

The brief interaction left you embarrassed hoping to never meet him again purely in the fact to not relive those memories, but as your luck happens to be it was not in your favor.

“You know me always wanting to help out the newbies,” Heeseung nudges his friend but his eyes stay transfixed on you which Sunghoon notices with a clenched jaw he rolls his eyes, “Yeah always so generous,” he grits out unimpressed

“I’m actually really good, some would even say better than Hoon,” Heeseung gets back on the topic of boxing again making you eye between the two friends Sunghoon’s eyes roll and arms stretching out to show off his arms.

Sunghoon lets out a brief laugh shaking his head letting his hair fall in his face “Is that why I knocked you out last week?” he questions with a head tilt leaving the older to poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“What if we-” Heeseung is about to challenge his friend but doesn’t finish as Jay nudges his friend harshly in his side making a face you're unable to see but it’s enough of a signal to let the taller one know to knock it off Heeseung mouthing what looks like a ‘why?’ towards his friend.

“Okay, you think you can show me the stance?” Sunghoon steps in front of you arms crossed showing off his strong build clearly annoyed by the interruption while blocking your view of his friends forcing you to focus back on him.

It takes you a few seconds to process the question but answer with a “Sure,” trying to sound confident attempting to remember all the things he just told you, you move in slow motion bringing your right foot back and raising your shoulders upwards followed by your fists on both sides of your head looking upwards at your instructor as if asking if it was correct.

Stepping closer to you his eyes bounce from your lips to your eyes and before you can ask if it’s correct his thumb lightly grazes over your bottom lip tugging it down slightly with the motion falling to trap your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “Don’t forget to tuck that chin, don’t want to hurt that pretty face,” he applies enough pressure with his thumb to have you tuck downwards to your chest, eyes never leaving yours.

“Perfect,” He approves removing his hand, making you ease up a bit letting out a breath only for him to take a step closer making you freeze up faces inches apart, “Don’t let your guard down, and always focus on your opponent,” he reminds you, laughing at the way you silently blink at him words caught in your throat.

“I’m really close aren’t I?” He points out watching the way you hum and nod “Probably shouldn’t let your opponent this close, right?” He cocks his head to the side waiting for a reply other than silence moving a section of hair away from your face to demonstrate just how close he is.

“Probably,” you try and focus on what he’s saying other than the dizzying closeness your eyes lingering on his lips and how if you leaned forward even a little yours would press against his.

“So, let me show you how to get away,” he explains moving away to better demonstrate and you can’t help but miss the close proximity swallowing your nerves and trying to remind yourself this is a boxing lesson he was just doing his job.

“You don’t want to trip so, shuffle backward, never let your legs cross, move the leg furthest back and then follow it with the other leg,” Sunghoon demonstrates shuffling back away from you a few feet then forward and back again signaling for you to demonstrate it as well. You do as he explains moving back by shuffling back foot then front foot until you’re far enough away and then switching to move back towards him easily finding the movement and reaching him.

You do the same exercise but side to side and when you’re back in front of him you stop taking a moment to look up at him and how he’s taller than you making you look up at him “That was easy,” You shrug making him tilt his head and hum.

“Oh? How about this then,” He pauses taking a few steps back before continuing “you get a head start but you have to shuffle away from me and try to not let me corner you,” He challenges “If it’s so easy,” he adds you let out a breath not meaning to challenge his instruction but you accept it waiting for his signal to start unsure how sure you are that you can evade him, your eyes meet his and he gives you a nod giving you to go ahead and just like a game of hide and seek he’s counting down.

From ten you start shuffling away from him backward trying to create enough distance it wouldn’t be too hard to get away and after what feels like less than a few seconds “Zero,” leaves his lips making you look up to see him moving forward almost too quickly shuffling your direction with ease eyes focused completely on you like his next meal.

You freeze with the progress he’s managed to make in just a few seconds causing you to fall behind as you compose yourself starting to shuffle away from him again backing up while you look at him and you go as far as you could until you’re met with cold.

Back hitting the concrete wall behind you, you panic tearing your eyes away to see your options boxing bags on both sides of you before your vision fixes back over to Sunghoon who is significantly closer with his long legs giving him an advantage with how much further he can move, reaching you a few seconds later and caging you between his arms body pressing against you as he lets out a disappointed tsk “Caught you,” he shakes his head as you let out a shocked squeal noise caught off guard.

He glances at the watch on his wrist that has a stopwatch going to see how long it would take “Fifteen seconds? Not so easy then was it?” He sounds disappointed shaking his head, you give him a half smile almost embarrassed you couldn’t last a little longer.

He stays unmoving just looking at you waiting for you to tell him to move “Probably shouldn’t let my opponents this close,” you point out nervously unsure where to rest your hands that were previously at your side.

His face is right next to yours looking at you catching the way you avoid looking directly at him as a hand comes up helping to cup your jaw turning your face to look at him cocking his head waiting on your reply, dry swallowing your anxieties now forced to give him your full attention “Probably,” his lower half is pressed into you one leg slotted between your two making the room spin as if it were still just the two of you pressed against each other pressure on your lower halves clearly affecting both of you wanting to move against his leg for anything more.

“Ah, Fuck,” A thud follows the curse making you look away and just past Sunghoon to see what the commotion was, Sunghoon peering back over his shoulder as well to see Heeseung in a headlock, courtesy of Jay. Sunghoon lets out a sigh backing away to release you.

“Let me go you asshole,” Heeseung tries to peel his friend away, Sunghoon stands with his arms crossed watching the two shaking his head at the bickering pair

Turning towards you Sunghoon doesn’t let his voice carry leaning downwards to whisper against your ear sending chills up your spine “Things can get worse if you get cornered so just be aware of your surroundings, let's work on some basic jabs and blocks for now,” you silently agree following him over to a punching bag embarrassingly wet with arousal sticking to your underwear from him barely doing anything.

——-

God, of course, he was using the gym at the same time as you, he seemed like the only person you were running into recently. Sitting on a bench with your small weights placed in front of you, getting lost in the way his sweat-soaked shirt sticks to his skin, remembering the way he felt pressed up behind you his silk-like voice whispering against your ear. How he had you caged against him and the wall driving you insane. Now watching the way his muscles flexed with each curl of the weight in his grip wondering how easy it would be for him to just grab you and pin you up against-

“Are you just gonna keep eye fucking him?” Your friend’s voice asks in a sneer making you jump caught off guard and tearing your eyes away from Sunghoon to see her dressed in workout attire hair up and arms crossed in judgment.

Her eyes are jumping between you and Sunghoon across the gym “What the fuck?” You ask, hand over your chest at the sudden intrusion both confused and caught off guard unsure how long she’s been standing there or even how long you were watching him.

“What? Didn’t we sign up for the gym together?” She points out with an almost “Duh” sound following her statement making you scoff at the way she tried to shield blame from herself knowing fully well the shock it is to see her here.

“You haven’t been here in weeks,” you point out crossing your arms to match her energy, still bitter, having gotten to the point you don’t even bother asking if she’ll go.

She waves her hand off playing it off as the past is the past “And I thought you were actually using the gym not just using your membership to stare at Sunghoon,” she turns the conversation to you, something she was very good at doing recently and especially to get details.

“I am using it, he was my boxing instructor,” you pick up one of your weights to demonstrate you using the gym ‘technically’.

“I know, I signed us up for him specifically,” she reminds you that she made the point of vying for boxing lessons, not that you could forget, still mad at her for ditching you, “You’re welcome,” she adds with a smile and subtle wink you don’t miss.

She proceeds to join you on the bench uncaring that you might actually want to work out and not gossip “So have you guys fucked yet? Or are you playing the long game,” she unabashed asks as if he isn’t a few feet away eyes going wide.

“He’s just my instructor,” you hiss out shushing her looking back over to Sunghoon to make sure he hasn’t suddenly appeared next to you like she summoned him or something.

“So not yet then,” she frowns adding in a “boo,” out of disappointment, she looks over at him eyes scanning over him making you more annoyed as you adjust your seat so you’re in the way of her seeing him uncaring as she catches on to your maneuver.

“If you must be so invasive, no we haven’t,”

“Well you should soon, he’s looking right at you,” She brags making you still unsure if she was trying to get a reaction out of you, giving her arm a very light punch and a nervous laugh not daring to look over too nervous she was lying like she usually does.

“Now tell me about this guy you abandoned me to go fuck,” You turn it back on her tiered of her always questioning you wanting to know the details of what her recent reason has been for avoiding the gym.

Letting out an annoyed groan she rubs over her face, “Don’t get me started on him, he’s a great kisser but he was shit at everything else, I mean how is he gonna pass out after only one round, and didn’t even make me cum?” she lets out an exacerbated sigh as she continues on about her failed attempts to find good dick, and a part of you can’t help but consider this her karma.

-------------------

“I’m sorry for crashing your plans to nail that girl,” Jay apologizes to his friend who is mid-set curling a weight, strong biceps on full display with rolled-up sleeves a group of girls by the water fountain conveniently all using it watching the two Jay taking note of a particularly cute girl but Sunghoon keeps working uncaring of his entourage.

“Yeah, you and Heeseung are like permanent cockblocks,” Sunghoon grunts out as he completes a rep working out his frustration from the other day unable to get you in particular off his mind and the way you melted into him.

“You aren’t any better, and you didn’t exactly send a ‘hey guys I’m gonna go ahead and fuck the girl I’m supposed to be instructing,’ text,” Jay tries to argue not that it would have stopped the pair from showing up most likely feigning ignorance.

Leaning down next to his friend Jay decides to explain his reasons for bothering Sunghoon mid-set “But I just happen to have a foolproof plan,” Jay boasts eyes making their way over to a particular duo of giggling girls one happening to be you.

“This isn’t going to be like that new year's party again, is it?” Sunghoon questions skeptical of his friend remembering Jay’s last idea and just how horrible that night ended. Placing the pair of weights on the ground by his feet and letting himself have a small rest period to talk to Jay.

“That… look do you want my help or not?”

Bringing his towel up towards his face to dab the sweat that's built up on his face away “What’s this genius idea of yours?” Sunghoon muses taking in his friend’s annoyance, tipping his water bottle back to let the cool liquid fall down his throat eyes falling over to where you’re sitting across the gym, talking with another girl, laughing.

“I’ll need something from you after but…” He follows his friend’s line of sight over to you, amused. “That can come after,” Jay brings his attention back over to get into the discussion.

“Let’s do it,” Sunghoon can't stand not having you a second longer already intrigued and frustrated, eyes working their way over you not caring that your friend is watching him check you out as he listens to Jay’s plan on how exactly they would get you alone.

——-

Finishing up your set and wiping down your area with sanitary wipes you spot a figure walking towards you out of the corner of your eye moving out of the way so that they could use the equipment walking over to where you set your bag down. Squatting down to find the headphone case you had thrown in haphazardly.

Walking past the cleaned station without a pause making their way over to you. Looking up at the fast-approaching guy you recognize him in an instant in his black muscle tee that shows off his figure arms looking bigger than the last time you saw him, blond hair sticking to his forehead from his own workout, the inescapable Park Sunghoon.

Dabbing away droplets of sweat from your warmup you silently admire the way he manages to look so good even covered in a layer of sweat “What’s up?” You take out your headphones to hear him dropping the case back into your bag.

Looking down at you where you’re squatting down already has his mind turning “I need a practice buddy,” he points over his shoulder towards the practice ring where you’ve watched him and Heeseung go at it a couple of times, always so intimidated by the way they fought always worried one of them could actually get injured.

Going over the request in your head you can’t help the bubbling anxious feeling in your chest “Then go use Jay,” You nod your head over to the mop of Brown hair sitting and gulping down his water on a nearby bench with his head thrown back having just finished his own workout by the way his hair drips in sweat.

“I fight him all the time. I need someone different,” You give him a skeptical look, Sunghoon is a great boxer, and with only one lesson you definitely lacked skill especially to go against someone clearly as seasoned as him, this isn’t like when he was teaching you exactly.

“Don’t you need a challenge? I hardly think beating up a newbie is going to help you get better,” you shove up against the ground to your feet trying to stay resilient and not give in to him.

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two,” he offers throwing in a “free of charge,” to entice you while dragging you by your wrists closer to the practice ring where you miss the wink Jay sends his friend followed by a thumbs up. “Besides, there's only so much you can do with a bag, the real thing is much harder,” he persuades as if it made sense to just jump right in his thumbs rubbing against your wrist trying to soothe any nerves with a smile.

“I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry,” he assures you, seeing the hesitation drawn across your face with knit eyebrows and an apparent internal battle with yourself as you stare down at his hands holding yours doing more to send goosebumps through your whole body with memories of the last time it was just the two of you in such close proximity.

You know deep down it’s not a good idea that he probably has some ulterior motive but the way he smiles at you makes it so tempting “Look it’s just us here anyways so no one will even see when you lose,” you look over to where Jay was sitting noting his spot now empty looking up at Sunghoon giving a slight nod of affirmation sealing your fate as he perks up practically dragging you over to where they keep some of the spare boxing equipment.

“You better go easy on me,” you warn, grabbing at the pair of gloves that fit you, Sunghoon’s hand on the small of your back drags your mind away from boxing momentarily almost dropping the gloves.

His laugh fills your senses looking up to watch his smile overtake his face “I just want to help you out,” he walks over to his own bag to pick out his personal gloves. Sliding on the gloves you nervously glance over to where Sunghoon is setting up watching when he lifts his shirt up slightly to wipe off some of the sweat that had stuck to his forehead giving you a better look at his toned muscular stomach hard abs shining in sweat caught up in a daze before he drops his shirt watching the way you stare at him flexing his arms to show off how hard he’d been working. When you’re finally done thirsting over your opponent you close your eyes tight trying to picture anything other than Sunghoon’s gorgeous body, thighs rubbing together out of habit.

“You ready?” He’s in front of you when you open your eyes, stretching an arm across his body, muscles flexing with the move as you stumble over your words.

When you do manage to get out an actual answer he’s helping you into the ring plastic mat cool under your bare feet.

As soon as you step into the box his entire demeanor changes he’s watching you like a tiger prepared for your moves like you’re the latest prey. Yeah, you fucked up, You gulp down the nerves stepping closer which he doesn’t show concern from as you bring your fists up, chin tucked just like he taught you.

“Bring your leg back, remember?” Sunghoon points out so you can adjust before you start, your foot goes back angling yourself just like Sunghoon had taught you nerves already getting to you.

“Ready?” He asks tilting his head before taking a similar stance, you gulp down giving the tiniest “yeah,” and just like that it starts, you stay unmoving waiting to see what his first move will be not wanting to be the catalyst that starts it too nervous to throw the first punch, he starts by moving around the outer part of the ring, you following his lead stepping, in turn, shorter legs moving around closer to the center to keep your distance almost too focused on your legs and not tripping and just moving that when he’s moved forward and is now in front of you it catches you off guard.

Sending one of your firsts forward he expertly blocks it, returning it with his own unexpected punch that lands as you wince at the action rubbing at the spot on your arm where he hit. “Don’t let up now,” he reminds you right when he sends another punch your way, and before you can react he’s hitting you in the chest gearing up for another punch that you’re luckily able to block, letting out an annoyed huff taking a shuffle back “Good block,” he’s quick to praise before shuffling forward, longer strides making him closer than previously as you land a punch on his arm that has no effect on him and makes you stumble more than anything.

Recentering yourself and getting your footing he takes the opportunity to punch your side lightly, never fully using his strength, still letting out a groan instinctively going to rub it but before you know it he’s shuffling forward, so close that out of shock, you step back, feet colliding together tripping yourself and sending you backward hitting the mat you can feel the air leave your lungs trying to gasp a breath down at the impact.

Sunghoon wastes no time in shedding his gloves throwing them to the side before he’s on top of you pinning you down on the ground too easily only using one of his hands to hold the two of yours down at the wrists above your head while you just attempt to regain your breath from the hit chest moving up and down with each struggling breath gasping for air with his weight on top of you, not completely but enough to restrict the airflow.

“Get off… of me,” you’re finally able to huff out between heavy inhales his body which is slotted in between your legs and on top of you is restricting your already struggling airflow, attempting to pull your hands downwards and free only for his grip to tighten keeping you still, a satisfied smile covering his face enjoying the way you struggle against his strength.

“Are you okay?” It’s an odd question considering that he’s the reason for your struggling on and off the mat, and in any other circumstance it would be a sweet gesture but not right in this moment “I’ll be better once you let me go,”

You let out a high-pitched frustrated whine struggling to get free, a sound, Sunghoon enjoys a little too much with an increasingly hard situation forming in his shorts you attempt to pull your arms down once again before trying to push up off the mat which is impossible, as your hips meet his keeping you down, Sunghoon has to hold back from moaning at the movement. “What happened to going easy on me?” You pout still trying to get your hands free bulky gloves not helping unable to grip anything so with no luck you lay there under him limply.

“I was,” he wipes the loose strands of hair out of your face with his free hand subtly tracing over your features with every brush showing no signs that he’s tired. You scoff at the claim hints of the strawberry smoothie you had earlier still on your breath which hits Sunghoon’s nose.

“Since when did this turn into wrestling?” You attempt to push up but his body keeps you in place pressing against his “Since you lasted a minute at most,” he estimates letting you struggle against him rutting up to try and push him off only doing more to make him hard every push forward as he keeps you grounded under him.

You resort to wrapping your legs around his waist for any kind of leverage trying to move him by shifting all your weight side to side without any luck the only thing you’re doing is grinding against Sunghoon’s lower half forcing him to release a low grunt with the stimulation you’re providing, “What do I have to do for you to get off of me,” you give in, laying your head back against the mat in defeat, tired of fighting, wasting the little strength you do have, it’s clearly having no effect on him as he’s not even breathing heavily.

“I have a couple of ideas,” his free hand moves to play with the band of your shorts making you gulp down your throat going dry “If you’re up to it, of course,” he presses down on you further with his hips boner evident as soon as he rolls his hips against yours making you realize exactly what you did in your struggle to get free.

A choked gasp leaves your lips eyes widened looking down between the two of you noticing the evident hard-on he’s developed straining against the front of his gym shorts slowly raising your eyes and meeting his playful gaze “What do you say?” Face leaning in closer to yours, noses now brushing against each other.

A ping of worry hugs your chest “What if someone walks in?” You can’t help but be anxious letting your head fall to the side attempting to glance over at the double doors, vision obscured by a pillar.

Sunghoon cups your jaw bringing your face forward towards him so you have to look at him “Don’t worry, Jay’s making sure no one comes in,” he assures you a droplet of sweat landing on your forehead as he holds your face straight.

“He’s in on this?” If you could hit him in the chest, you would but with your hands tied up at the moment all you’re able to do is look at him dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape blinking up at him.

“Yeah, told him I’d let him beat me to impress this cam girl he’s been obsessing over, so what do you say?” his mouth hovers above yours, lips tempting you.

You can’t deny the way he makes your hormones go haywire with even the slightest proximity and how often he’s been circling around your brain recently especially late at night in your room with nothing but your fingers to satisfy you “Aren’t you curious?” he shoves into you again, any apprehensive thoughts leaving your mind hot breath over your lips.

“Fuck it,” you concede leaning upwards to press your lips to his, difficult with your hands above your head but he presses back forcing you back sandwiched between himself and the mat, lips crashing into yours with haste, working his hands to get the boxing gloves off your hands as you feel lost in his lips working expertly against yours, tongue pressing into your mouth for more, it’s intoxicating letting him take control his lips working with desperation over yours.

Shoving the gloves off you roll your wrists adjusting to the new freedom, Sunghoon’s hands instantly start traveling down your body squeezing occasionally over your curves hands pressing your hips down with a bruising grip keeping you in place and letting you know he’s still running the show.

With free hands you sneak them under his shirt curious touch moving over his abdomen, tracing over every dip and defined line of his abdominal muscles counting as his shirt raises the higher your touch goes forcing him to break the kiss and throw it off for you to admire the body you’ve only gotten teasing peeks at up until now, he’s towering over you straddling your lap “Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been staring at me, begging like a slut for me to fuck you,” You mindlessly nod biting your lower lip to hide the embarrassing whine you want to let out, reaching out to feel him again, before you can he’s fast to capture your wrists pinning them next to your body making you struggle again wiggling to try and get free and feel him again.

“Wait your turn,” he reminds you that he’s still got the upper hand kissing over your neck painfully agonizing taking his time.

Making his way downwards peppering kisses along your collarbone until he meets the top of your bra eyes fixated on yours maintaining eye contact “Keep your hands off,” he pauses kissing over the top of the bra you’re wearing “Until I get this off,” You let out a frustrated whine but obliged his request nodding, not trusting your voice, letting up his grip on your wrists you resist the temptation to cling to him taking in a deep inhale chest rising looking all the more enticing kissing over the fabric and around, driving you crazy with each avoiding move you distract yourself by tugging your shorts down partially, trying to give your hands something to do until he gives you what you want.

Finally, his hand is pulling at the zipper in front, grateful you chose to wear a sports bra with easy access. It feels like forever as he unveils more of your chest until you feel the fabric separate, cold air from the air conditioner blasting hitting your chest making you shudder. a low groan from Sunghoon “fuck you’re perfect,” follows as he’s quick to make contact with your chest lips wrapping around one breast making you mewl out eyes shutting struggling to shrug off the fabric arching upwards towards him assisting only by lifting your back upwards closer to him and his mouth making you whimper.

As soon as your bra is shoved off your needy touch clings to him, like honey you’re a fly trapped in his presence grabbing onto his broad shoulders his tongue swirling over the hard bud making you moan out loudly, bouncing off the walls of the empty area. Core dripping with arousal rutting against his thigh subtly to try and get more relief, impatient, not going unnoticed by him.

Releasing your breast with a pop he shoves the shorts you got half off all the way down with one strong yank “What were you saying about my hands the other day?” He asks, kissing up your jaw to your ear fingers ghosting over your clothed core in a teasing manner making you shudder with anticipation.

“Mmmm, they feel so nice,” you recall the moments before you got interrupted, overwhelming thoughts now coming true better than you imagined.

“They do?” He presses down against the fabric of your underwear, feeling how wet you’ve already got them, hips bucking up for more pressure making you whimper “You’re soaked,” he remarks letting your head nod yes “for you,” you desperately breathe out needing more pushing your underwear deeper seeping in your desire.

You’re groaning out at the teasing wanting him to do something about to whine out for more before you feel him pulling your underwear to the side he can feel exactly how slicked up you’ve gotten two fingers teasing your folds purposefully ghosting over your clit until you let out a loud complaint “Please Hoon!” You beg, trying to buck your hips for just a little more, Sunghoon’s low laugh hitting your ears, “Please what? Sluts know what they want.” He stills his movements completely making you cry out, pathetic over Sunghoon.

“Your fingers, Please, Please, need them in- '' You moan out when you feel him press two digits in, arching upwards sound of your skin lifting up off the mat previously stuck to it from the mixture of heat and sweat. Starting at an agonizingly slow pace working his fingers in and out of you listening to the way you let out pathetic noises pulling his fingers almost fully out before sinking back into your heat occasionally spreading his fingers out for more of an impact “More, please, Hoon, I need more,” giving into your begs he changes up to a brutal pace, fingers moving in and out quicker than you can register thumb moving over your clit making you let out incoherent babbles he knows exactly what he’s doing watching the way you turn into a puddle under him letting out pretty high pitched noises.

Curling his fingers to hit different areas you’re a mess, wet noises sounding out with every press inward trying to contain your high mouth biting down on his shoulder, you practically yell out when he finds your sweet spot, “Right there,” he angles his fingers to hit that spot repeatedly you’re squeezing down on his fingers with a vice “Gonna cum-” you mumble out against his neck your mind going fuzzy begging to reach that familiar high which is so close a series of whimpers leaving your mouth until the minute he retracts his fingers making you curse out “no, no, no Stop playing with me,” You’re pathetic begging dripping in sweat desperate for him to let you win arousal leaking out onto the mat under you, lips grazing over yours looking into his eyes with the most pleading look you can muster your nails dig into his back.

He presses his lips to yours for a brief kiss before he’s speaking against your mouth “Losers don’t get to cum before me,” He points out taking no pity on you with a jutted-out lip gripping onto his back, nails probably leaving marks as you nod “Take your prize then” your hand wanderers downwards between you both pausing over the evident bulge straining against the fabric of his shorts your finger trails over it teasing him as he did you while sizing up just how big he is gulping down. “Open,” Sunghoon tells you watching the way you almost instantly open your mouth, the fingers he had just taken out of you pushing into your mouth for you to lick clean of your own arousal. Starting to palm over the fabric making him curse out lowly when you squeeze over the base unsteady breaths leaving his lips as he watches the way you move your hand over his underwear working up a pace, strokes getting progressively quicker while sucking on his fingers at the same time, it feels sinful.

“Keep going,” he encourages hissing out when you slip your cold hand into the material wanting to feel him completely, heavy in your hand and warm you work over him. He’s bigger than you thought as you tease his tip where precum is leaking out making him throw his head back a low groan leaves his mouth, muscles tensing, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth dripping in saliva.

Hand wrapping around your wrist to still your movements looking up at Sunghoon, raising an eyebrow at him “Why do you want me to stop?” You question, face coming closer to yours “Because I want to see you ride me,” he pulls your hand out of his pants wanting to avoid cumming in his pants before he even gets to feel you.

Pushing his shorts and boxers down in one movement, letting his dick hard and aching for release rest against your stomach making you gulp down seeing the mere size you let out a whimper satisfying him as he lets out a soft chuckle, “Not even in you yet and you’re making all these noises.” he taunts pulling your underwear that wasn’t even coving your core off to join his.

“You can take it, be my good little slut,” he kisses the tip of your nose dick pressing against your stomach showing you just how deep he’s going to be in you making you clench around nothing but needing him “You’re so big,”.

Maneuvering the two of you so that you’re on his lap straddling him “Show me you can take it,”. You grind down on him which elicits a moan as you smile to yourself before positioning his dick at your entrance slowly taking your time to sink down on him as you moan directly into his ear while he starts to suck on your neck. He bucks his hips up ever so slightly on purpose making you let out another surprise moan.

“Fuck Sunghoon, you’re huge” you pant out holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself and prepare yourself already squeezing down on him barely halfway in. Hands gripping your hips he uses his thumbs to rub soothingly against your skin trying his best not to fuck you from below.

He watched the way your face contorts gasping out with every inch eyes squeezing shut in preparation “Pussy keeps sucking me in asking for more,” He eyes stay trained on where the two of you meet watching the way he’s almost fully inside feeling the way you squeeze down on him, it’s addictive.

“Almost there,” he’s impatient wanting to let you adjust but his hips jump up and he’s fully sheathed inside of you making you gasp out at the deepness hugging onto his shoulders to steady yourself resting your forehead against his.

He’s rubbing at your side smiling “wanna see you bounce,” he says after giving you a few seconds to adjust still squeezing him tightly still shocked at the way you managed to take him all.

He’s assisting you with small movements starting with rocking up and down “Just like that baby,” he lets you take over the movement feeling the way you wrap around him when he fills you up, you’re moving up and down more still trying to work up a quicker pace.

It’s not like you’ve never ridden anyone before but it’s been a while and never anyone nearly as big as Sunghoon who seems to be reaching new places inside of you.

You keep your small bounces Sunghoon’s hips moving up to meet yours making you clench down hard letting out a noise that’s somewhere between shock and pleasure, a sound Sunghoon only wishes he could record and replay over and over.

“Making me do all the work? Come on baby show me how much you want it,” you don’t fight him as you just continue to bounce on his cock working yourself up higher before coming down you can feel yourself starting to sweat, legs wobbly as you continue your movements rising and falling working you both up.

Sunghoon whispers words of approval reveling in the feeling of you and how deep he presses into you tightness engulfing him in pleasure. You’re caught off guard when you feel his lips wrap around one of your buds making you stall your hips stilling momentarily trying to focus on Sunghoon. A sharp sting on your thigh follows making you hiss out at the pain, a part of you loves it though squeezing down on him with the sensation.

He lets out a curse at the feeling head falling back slightly “Keep going,” he soothes over the spot he slapped as lightly as he can frustration building as you start to bounce struggling to build up a rhythm again.

“You can do better than that,” he encourages hands resting on your waist assisting you to ride him, taking him deeper and faster as you shake your head no with a choked-out sound with your hands on his shoulders trying to use him as leverage to bounce.

Hips jumping up to meet yours he impatiently fucks up into you, your legs shaking with every bounce “Going to have to work those legs out more,” he makes note eyes watching the way your bodies connect taking him, getting sloppy with louder whines “Please Hoon, I can’t” you’re begging for mercy head shaking that you can’t keep up.

“You’re not going to like it very much when I’m pinning you down again making sure you can’t touch me,” he grunts out with a particularly rough up movement making you release a choked-out noise legs on the verge of giving up on you hips stalling once again.

Slowing down you shake your head “Sure Sung-“You’re caught off guard when he follows through with the threat hands previously on your waist sliding down looping under your thighs swiftly changing up the position so you’re roughly knocked back onto your back with your legs pressed up against your chest Sunghoon still inside you maybe even deeper with the change-up.

“-Hoon!“ you gasp out a breath, air knocked out from the sudden impact saying he took your breath away, literally, was an understatement. Struggling to catch your breath his hips start to move again not leaving you any time to adjust as he’s almost pulling out completely before plunging back in making you feel the full effect of him gasping out. Catching your breath his pace is faster with one leg over his shoulder you try and find something to grip onto, but nothing is available pushing you deeper into the mat with every stroke.

“Don’t test me, this is what you wanted,” he grits out continuing to fuck you out of breath heavy breathing filling the air your hands finding purchase on his back arching up with a cry “Feel so good, so full, Please Hoon-” your eyes try and focus on his face and the intensity of his eyes drinking you up as he fucks into you eyebrows knit and a vein along his neck protruding.

Sunghoon’s fingers find their way to your clit applying barely any pressure having you react hips jumping forward and clenching around him harder with a loud gasp “fuck just like that, begging for me,” He moans lips attaching to your neck sucking over the skin adding to the sensitivity you’re feeling only adding to the build-up feeling yourself coming closer hands falling down to his arms holding onto him.

“Please, Hoon!” Your nails dig into his bicep surely leaving a mark for him to see later as you’re inching closer to your release applying more pressure every bit more making your mind fuzzy with pleads and begs.

“I-Mmmm,” you feel the words get lost in your throat but he can tell what you want to say with the way you’re squeezing down on him impossibly hard making him work extra to fuck you through it droplets of sweat building across his brow.

“Wait,” he warns voice deep you are practically in tears trying to hold off your release shaking your head no mumbling out incoherent words begging for him to let you cum knowing that the tears would start if you attempt to hold off any longer.

You’re shaking your head with rough breaths “Please please please, it’s too good, can't hold it,” and you can't as you snap before he allows you to letting your release wash over you as Sunghoon is fucking you through your orgasm hips crashing into yours thrusts getting sloppy before he presses fully flush against your hips emptying his balls and cumming with shallow breaths.

Neither of you speaks for a moment too intense, trying to catch your breath and come down from both your highs staying as you both ended the only sounds are from both of you breathing and hearts pumping and pounding in your ear slowly subsiding, “Fuck,” is the first thing you say earning a small laugh from your instructor who pushes his hair out of his face to look at you better before he lightly slaps your thigh making you jump still sensitive, “That’s for cumming before me, loser,” He slowly slides out of you hissing out at the feeling.

Legs still shaky after your previous orgasm Sunghoon watches the way his cum spills out of you down your thigh onto the mat below as he takes a finger pressing some of his releases back into you making you whine out still sensitive. “Couldn’t help it, you’re too good,” You try and sit up groaning at the soreness you can already feel laying back down.

“Fuck Hoon,” You’re able to get out head falling to the side to look at him.

“So you want a round two then?” he cocks his head to the side smiling so you can see both his canines' lines of sweat framing the side of his face

——-

This was my first time kinda publishing smut so go easy on me thx XOXO -SunghoonsSlut

Also have never boxed before in my life 💀 and have had this in the drafts since like September so if it flops pretend you never saw this because I’ve just been up and down with my motivation with writing this one 😬

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enha smut #park sunghoon smut #enha hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fic #enhypen ff #enhypen hard hours #enha sunghoon #sunghoonsSlutStories

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builtbykittie · 6 months

Text

Dirty secrets

S.f.k x f!reader

summary: a movie night with your best friend takes a drastic turn after walking in on his insufferable roommate.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, enemies to lovers-ish, SMUT, mentions of masturbation, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, oral(m & f rec), unprotected sex (you know better), sam is kind of an asshole, multiple orgasms, choking if you squint

A/N: once again not edited because I'm lazy... Sorry for any mistakes!! Enjoy!

"Heyy beautiful!" Danny smiles, holding the front door open with a wide grin.

"Hi Daniel," you grin, holding out your arms for a hug. You have to admit, you're excited to finally get to spend time with him at his place. You've purposefully avoided going to Danny's house ever since he and Sam moved in together, so most of the time you'd be at bars or parties.

Sam had gone through a breakup not very long ago, he didn't want to stay at his house and moved out. At first, it was just until he got over her and found a new place, but he gets over girls questionably quick and it doesn't seem that he's moving out any time soon. At least not until he moves on to the next girl.

The second you saw that Sam's car was missing from the driveway, you sat up in your seat. You hoped that Sam might've taken off once Danny told him you'd be over. The thought of him being so petty that he leaves makes you giggle, until you remember you'd do the exact same. Is it childish? Absolutely. But maybe you're allowed to be not so mature for once.

But your hopes are crushed as Danny leads you into the house.

"I know you and Sam... aren't the greatest friends," he pauses "but he's at the store getting food. He'll be back sometime soon."

You stop in your tracks, all color draining from your face. "What?" is all you can get out.

After a moment, you finally collect your words. "Danny I thought it was gonna be just us?" You try your best to seem calm and act mature, but the red tint covering your entire body tells otherwise.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. If I had told you any sooner you wouldn't have come," Danny says, further fueling the fire that is your temper.

He can tell you're about to say something and stops you. "Sam was supposed to be out but after I told him what was going on he got defensive and insisted on staying here," Danny shrugs, looking defeated. You can tell they got in a little argument over this and you decide not to go too hard on him, even though he failed to tell you you'd be hanging out with your sworn enemy. The man at the core of all your arguments.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought it was gonna be just us. I wish it was," he offers you a smile, but it doesn't help. It makes no sense. Why would Sam of all people want to stick around? To torment you? To show you that this is also his house and he's allowed to be around? He does help Danny pay, after all.

It takes about half an hour of scrolling through streaming sites and saying no to every suggestion to finally decide on a movie. Sam still hasn't returned.

The two of you sit around for another thirty minutes waiting for his return, but it doesn't come. Maybe he really did take off. "Let's just start the movie," Danny finally suggests, you didn't want to say it in case he'd take it as you being upset over Sam, which you are.

You grab a blanket, bringing your feet to your side and cuddling up to his arm. The movie starts, and about ten minutes pass until Sam is finally walking through the door. The second you see him you roll your eyes, already blocking out whatever dumb excuse he has for his tardiness.

But he doesn't say anything, just walking over to the opposite side of the room from you and dropping the bag of food on the coffee table. "Jesus, took you long enough," Danny pauses the movie. "We started the movie, hope you don't mind.

"I do, actually," Sam says as a matter of fact. You try your best not to just get up and walk out. Or scoff at him. Or let your emotions get the best of you.

Danny just looks at you, silently asking if it's okay to rewind. "I don't care. It's only ten minutes," you say rather bitterly, deciding to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Oh, but that stupid face of Sam's drives you crazy. He's got a smug smile playing on his lips, looking right at you. Heaven only knows how badly you want to get up and slap him right in his dumb, pretty little face.

Something about Sam is he thinks that because he's attractive that he can be an asshole. Because he's attractive, life is 10x easier. Getting a girlfriend is incredibly easy, everyone is nice to him, and he always gets his way.

He never really did anything to you, besides being an asshole. You just hated his pretty privilege, attitude, and presence. Something about him just being around puts you in a bad mood. Drove you crazy. The sight of him. The smell of his cologne. The sound of his voice.

And maybe you were attracted to him. Maybe that's what made you hate him the most.

You tried to ignore him. To enjoy the movie, but you just couldn't. Sam's presence is all too distracting. Danny attempts to break the tension by commenting on the movie but that fails miserably, perhaps even making it worse at points.

Finally, Sam gets up and storms off to his room, his cheeks bright pink. "Jesus Christ," Danny sighs, stretching his arms out. You'd be a lot happier if he hadn't left at the last couple of minutes.

"Hey, Danny can I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I don't wanna drive home half asleep," you yawn, sitting up and stretching.

"Yeah, I just gotta be somewhere in the morning so," he sits up slightly "you done with the movie?"

You feel bad because the entire movie you sat there annoyed and in a bad mood, but it was long and you're tired "Yeah." You stand up, folding the blanket you used "Should I just stay here on the couch or...?"

"Oh, no. There's that guest room by Sam's. If you go down that hall it's the one right across from his. Got its own bathroom, remember?" he yawns, turning the television off, followed by the lamps surrounding you. "Okay I'm going to bed," he mumbles, placing a hand on your head and ruffling up your hair.

"Goodnight, Danny," you place a quick friendly peck on his cheek and pad to the kitchen. You're practically dying of thirst, grabbing a glass from his cupboard and filling it with cold water.

You sit there silently on his counter and sip your water, listening to the faint rustle coming from Danny's room as he gets ready to go to sleep. Slipping off the counter, you gently discard the glass and find the hall that hosts the guest room. You were positive you knew which room it was, but now that you're standing at the entrance of the dark hallway, you have no idea which one it is.

There are three rooms. One on the right side, one on the left, and one at the end of the hall. It occurs to you that you have no idea which room is Sam's. You listen for any sign of life in the rooms, listening to which side it may be coming from. Very faintly, you hear a soft groan, but you can't decide which room it may have come from.

You hear it again, this time you're sure it was from the right, so you head for the left. Just to be sure, you stop and listen again, but you hear nothing, so you turn the knob and open the door.

Instead of finding an empty room with a cold bed, you find shirtless Sam sitting lazily in a sofa chair. His head is thrown back, hair clung to his neck, lips parted, and cheeks bright pink. It takes you a moment to process what you're seeing, even then you can't seem to look away. His hand swirls around his impossibly hard, angry cock as he mouths something you can't quite understand.

His head snaps over to you, movements slowing down but not stopping. It feels as if you're in a daze, your eyes fixated on his sweaty body and your mouth slightly open. "Get the fuck out," he blurts, his voice rough as if he'd been choking it back.

You practically run out, pulling the door but not fully closing it. You stop in the kitchen, trying to process what just happened. Trying to calm yourself down, you grab the same glass from earlier and pour yourself more water, cupping some in your hands and splashing your face with it.

You throw back the drink, chugging the cold liquid and giving yourself a brain freeze. For a while, you stand there fidgeting with the cold glass and staring at nothing. All you can think about is the way he looked, all red and sweaty. Your mind wanders to his cock, the way his hand glided along the incredible length.

You're startled out of your daze once you hear the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. You spin around to find Sam, still shirtless but with boxers on that fail to hide his bulge.

He angrily stares at you for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sam I- I'm sorry I didn't kn-" you start to stammer, but he cuts you off.

"Don't fucking tell anyone, Y/N," he takes a step closer to you. You frantically nod your head, finding yourself motionless against the island as Sam slowly moves closer and closer to you. "Say it. Tell me you won't tell anyone," Sam's voice slightly raises, but still quiet enough to not wake Daniel.

"I- I won't tell anyone, I promise," you practically whine, cowering away from him.

"How do I know you won't use that big fucking mouth of yours, hm?" Now his face is only inches from yours and although you're trying your best to avoid his face, he forces you to look at him.

For a moment, you both stand there, silently staring at each other. Your entire body is flushed, the tension is palpable, and the silence is loud.

One of his large hands finds the waistband of your shorts and dips past it, your breaths growing heavier as the rough tips of his fingers begin to trace your hip bone. "Sam.." you mutter, grabbing his wrist, but he slaps you away.

A throbbing sensation pounds at your core, a feeling you know all too well. You hate it. You hate it so much you just wanna slap him. You've fallen into his trap.

But at the same time, you need him. You need him so bad it's embarrassing.

His hand reaches your panties, and you can't help but grab onto the counter behind you, looking down at where his hand is in your shorts. "Look at me," he says roughly, the hand not teasing at your panties coming up to grab your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

A soft, whiney breath escapes your open mouth once his two middle fingers press against your needy clit. "Yeah, bitchy girl likes that, doesn't she?" Slowly, his fingers begin to massage your clit through your panties, looking into your eyes.

You can't nod, you can't let him know he's right. But even without flat-out telling him yes, he still knows. He can tell by the way your hips buck against his hand, the way you softly moan, and the way your mouth falls open at the smallest movement.

"Doesn't she?" His voice comes out rough, startling you. His finger hooks under the side of your panties. "If you say no, I'll let you go to bed," he slowly moves the fabric to the side. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear "if you say yes, I'll give you what you want. Spoil you. Give you something you don't deserve."

His voice sends a shiver up your spine, freezing you in place. He slots his fingers between your folds, just barely brushing against your clit, eliciting an embarrassing whine. He has his answer. He knows. He just wants to hear it.

"Sam," you start with the intention to protest, but quickly realize it's no good once he circles your entrance with his middle finger. "Oh fuck," you struggle to keep your voice a whisper.

It takes you a moment to collect your words and put them into a proper sentence. "Yes," you start, but the tip of his finger just slightly slipping into your entrance interrupts you. It doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not gonna be able to get that sentence out, watching as a smirk grows on his stupid face and his eyes become unbelievably dark.

"Good girl," Sam purrs into your ear, leaning even closer and taking the shell of it between his teeth. That alone could make you whine, so when he shoves his two middle fingers into you, a cry flies past your lips.

His brows furrow and the hand not toying with you clamps over your mouth. His fingers curl harshly up into you before he slides the digits out of you and brings them up to his lips. That pounding at your core grows even worse as you watch him take the fingers into his mouth, licking up your juices and releasing them from his mouth with a pop.

The hand over your mouth moves to be prying your jaw open, shoving his fingers into your mouth. He closes your mouth around the digits, forcing you to taste the mix of your juices and his saliva and you start to gag on his fingers as he shoves them further and further into your mouth.

By the time he finally takes them out of your mouth, you're practically gasping for air, the tips of his fingers keep your tongue sticking out of your mouth. To your surprise, he leans in, his mouth incredibly close to yours for a moment before he sticks his tongue out and licks yours.

You suck in a loud gasp at the action, and you hate yourself for how much you enjoyed it. He hums, dropping his hands to the small of your back, licking along your jawline and sucking a the soft flesh into his mouth. "S- Sam," you whine, trying to push him away but to no avail.

"Don't do that," you push again, your brows knitting together. The last thing you want is to wake up with ugly purple splotches covering your neck. He simply huffs a laugh and you feel him smile against your skin before he takes the flesh between his teeth.

He lifts that same hand up back to your mouth and once again practically shoves his fingers down your throat. You let out a cry of surprise, your eyes growing comically large as you realize how loud it was.

Before you can even blink, Sam takes his fingers out of your mouth, raising his hand up and letting it come down against your cheek. You try to stifle the yelp that threatens to spill past your lips, but you're not very successful. The stinging sensation that follows hurts so good.

His wet fingers squeeze your cheeks and he leans in, his face mere centimeters from yours. "Y/N, you make one more noise, and I'm taping your mouth shut. Got it?" His dark, lust blown eyes stare so intensely into yours that you just want to curl up into a ball and shrink in size.

He lets go of your cheeks and you frantically nod your head. A smirk grows on his lips at your response, his hand slowly making it's way down your torso till it reaches the waistband of your shorts. He uses his thumb to pull the band, creating an opening for his fingers to meet your core.

His other hand comes back up to your mouth, and you whine against his palm at the pressure. Thank God for his hand, because the whimper that slips past your lips once his fingers reach your core could've easily woken anybody near. He's staring into your eyes, but his gaze narrows and his brows furrow in annoyance at every single squeak you fail to hide.

He spreads your arousal around your folds, bringing it up to your clit and drawing small circles over the needy bud. Your hand flies to his wrist, digging your nails into the soft flesh as his fingers speed up against your clit. Every time your eyes wander off or your eyelids start to flutter shut, he forces you to keep your eyes on him.

So many emotions rush through you. Anger. Annoyance. Lust. Frustration. Desire. He's driving you crazy, and he loves it. Every single whine you let out, every time you squeeze him, every time your knees threaten to buckle, puts a smile on his stupid smug face.

He hates you. You hate him. For some sick reason it intensifies your desire for him more than words could ever explain. And he'd be a complete and utter liar if he said he didn't feel the same.

You hate it so much you could cry, but at the same time you can't get enough. You couldn't be able to walk away if you wanted to. He's too alluring. His body is like a magnet.

Your eyes roll back into your head, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. Sam lets out a low chuckle at your reaction and presses against your clit. "Yeah, that's right. Feel my fingers. They feel good, huh little slut?" He comes down to your neck, biting the flesh as his fingers speed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You frantically nod your head, grinding against his fingers. Those skilled hands of his work deliciously over your poor sensitive clit and your whines against his hand grow louder. You don't know how much longer you can go before you're sent hurdling over the edge.

A pressure builds right below your belly button and its getting harder and harder to keep your voice down. Even muffled by his hand you're still embarrassingly loud. Your knees buckle and your thighs tremble, his fingers show no mercy for your bundle of nerves as he hums against your neck.

It's just his fingers, but they're so skilled. So incredibly experienced. You throw your head back, mumbling profanities against his hand, ultimately coming out inaudible. As your pleasure intensifies, so does his pace. So does his pressure against the sweet sensitive bud.

"Yeah that's it, cum for me doll," his fingers move from your clit and effortlessly slide into your entrance, flicking against a soft spot. His hand around your mouth forces your head up to look at him. Your eyes widen and you let out an incredibly loud whimper against his hand as that band of pleasure snaps.

"Such a good little whore," he comes down to whisper against your neck, and you feel his shoulders bounce. He's giggling. His fingers don't slow down, and his thumb starts to play with your clit.

You violently shake your head against his hand, your eyes wide as you fight against him. Despite your efforts, he doesn't stop. In fact, he speeds up. Your eyes prick with tears and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

The hand that was covering your mouth slowly slides down your body, stopping at your navel "take your shirt off." Your brows knit together and your eyes flick to the direction of Daniel's room, but you do as he says. Slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, hooking your fingers under your bra as you go. Sam's eyes study every second. Every inch of your torso. He watches carefully as you lift the thin fabric over your head and it drops to the floor.

His hand is still toying with your cunt, the other starting to slowly pull down your shorts and panties. As your clothes go lower down your body, so do his kisses. His lips start at your belly button, then slowly move down till they're right at your slit.

Now you're completely exposed. Daniel could walk in at any second and see you and Sam like this. For some reason, the thought goes straight to your cunt, turning you on even more.

His breath is warm against your heat, fueling the fire inside of you. Suddenly, a yelp slips out of your mouth once his tongue finds your clit. His dark eyes angrily flick up to yours and you clamp your own hand over your mouth.

His tongue dances so delicately around your folds, tasting you as if you're the sweetest honey he's ever had. Your entire body shudders, the feeling of his sweet tongue over your overstimulated clit sends shocks of electricity through your body.

His fingers move in sync with his tongue, his other hand squeezing your thigh. Your thighs are trembling and shaking at an immense speed, your knees threatening to completely give out. You're already there. His fingers curl up into a sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. You've gotten over the overstimulation, now you're falling over the edge.

You let out a cry against your hand as your orgasm clouds your head for the second time in a row. Sam withdrawals his fingers from you just in time, because suddenly your legs give out from underneath you and you're collapsing in his lap.

He lets you sit there for just long enough to find your composure before he's forcing you both up. Once he's on his feet, he grabs your hair in a bundle and pulls you up to meet him.

A surprised whimper falls past your lips once he spins you around so that your back is flush to his chest. One arm wraps around your body at your bust, the other holds your ass firm against his body. "Feel that?" His low voice sends a shiver up your spine as he whispers into your ear. "Feel my cock against your pretty little ass?" He presses harder against you.

"This little problem," he growls "do you have any idea how annoying it is?" He wiggles his hips against you, and you feel that pounding return to your core. "Now you're gonna help me fix it. You're gonna take every inch of my cock like the little slut you are."

You don't try to hide the soft, breathy moan that falls past your lips at his words. Your entire body becomes flushed a deep red color, so intense to the point that it starts to give you a headache. Without warning, he's sweeping you off your feet and carrying you off to his room, your clothes still on the kitchen floor.

Everything happens in mere seconds. He's practically running to his room, sending the door flying open and throwing you on the bed. He eagerly climbs on top of you, marveling at your naked body. He leaves a trace of kisses down torso, sucking the skin of your hip into his mouth.

He gets up, frantically closing and locking the door. He turns back to you, sliding his boxers down his legs, his cock springing free. He tossed the fabric off from around his feet and takes himself in his hand. The sight drives you mad. His long, hard cock in his large hand. Just so eager to feel you. Begging for pleasure. You can see every vein, even from where you are. He's so turned on it's unbelievable.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the flesh at the sight of him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at you, his large hand starting to slowly pump his length. It takes everything in you to not give in and touch yourself, the pounding at your core has become so incredibly unbearable just the slightest touch would break you.

Silently, he walks to you, his angry pink tip dripping with precum. "Sit up," he demands, still stroking himself at such a slow pace that it makes you wince. You do just as he says, not even bothering to think about how desperate you probably look.

Sam slowly crawls onto the bed, moving up so that his knees are on each side of your thighs and you're face to face with his cock. He doesn't even give a warning or anything before he grabs your hair in a bundle and forces your mouth onto him. You're just lucky he didn't force his entire length down your throat.

You quickly adjust to his thickness and start to glide your tongue along his cock, his hand guiding you. Sam lets out a breathy noise and his grip on your hair tightens once you start to speed up. "Fuck- that's it, Y/N," he mutters, feeling your mouth as you suck harder around his cock.

His hips start to buck forward, making his cock tickle the very back of your throat. You take him as far into your mouth as you possibly can, your eyes filling with tears at every thrust of his hips. You pull back, wrapping your hand around his cock, squeezing him tight as you start to lap at his slit. His head falls back and strings of profanities escape his plump pink lips, you know he won't last much longer like this.

The hand around his cock starts to stroke along his length, not once loosening your grip as you tease his angry tip. "Oh fuck-" he blurts, his voice rough and his hips jutting forward at the sensation. His hands tug harshly at your hair, and you use it as encouragement, every pull of your hair you reward, sucking harder or stroking faster.

It's almost humorous how fast you drive him to the edge, every profanity in the dictionary is flying past his lips and he's bringing you to tears with how hard he's pulling your hair. Suddenly, he forces your hand off of him and grasps the back of your head, practically shoving his cock down your throat. He thrusts once, and that's all it takes for his hot release to spurt into the back of your throat.

For a few moments, he keeps you there, forcing you to swallow every last drop of him. "Shit-" he speaks, out of breath. "Where'd you learn that?" He removes himself from you, but he doesn't give you enough time to answer before he's forcing you around onto your stomach. His calloused fingertips grab at the supple flesh at the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open.

A loud, surprised moan escapes your lips as his fingers just barely touch your cunt. He collects your arousal on his fingertips, spreading it around your core. "Jesus Christ," he groans "you're so fucking wet." The pillows stifle the moans and whimpers that you make at the slight touch.

"So fucking horny," His fingers start to massage your clit, but before you can even begin to enjoy it, he moves his hand to slap your ass, eliciting a loud yelp. "So needy. Wouldn't wanna have to make you beg for it, would I?" he comes down, and you gasp as he starts to place open mouth kisses to your ass, his tongue lapping at the red skin.

"Please, Sam," you practically cry into the sheets, clawing the fabric. He simply just snickers at your plead, continuing to kiss everywhere but the area you need him to touch the most.

"Sam," you whine, but he's just ignoring you. "Sam Kiszka I swear to fucking god," you say harshly, moving your head so that he can hear you clearly. You feel him huff a laugh against your inner thigh, "fine. If you want it so bad." You let out a sigh, a little squeak following it once his tongue reaches your core.

He circles your entrance with his tongue, the very tip of it prodding you. He repeats this until you're a sweaty mess, your hair clung to your neck, your thighs shaking from trying to create any sort of friction, and your hands grasping onto the sheets for dear life. You can't form a sentence, every word you try to speak just comes out as a squeaky whimper and you can tell he's enjoying this 10x more than you.

You let out a squeaky sigh once he pulls back, and he brings his cock to your entrance. He slides his tip through your core, groaning as he feels the wetness of your folds around him. Pathetic moans roll off your tongue and you try to clamp your thighs around his lower body, but he slaps the back of your thigh and pries your legs apart.

A loud, whiney cry rips through your chest as he sinks into you, and the sting of his cock stretching you out without warning robs you of any self respect you had left. "Oh- fuck," Sam groans, bottoming out inside you and staying there for a moment. You claw at the sheets, a yelp escaping your mouth once he starts to mercilessly thrust into you.

One deep and intoxicating thrust, then another, then another until he's worked up the perfect pace that drives you mad. "Oh Sam- fuck," you cry, arching your back into the bed. "Shit, Y/N," Sam mutters, having to practically rip your hands off the sheets to hold them behind your back.

You cry his name at a particularly sharp thrust, and curse yourself for how much you're enjoying it. He feels too good, you hate it. You hate the fact that you're just like every other girl he's hooked up with. But most of all, you hate the fact that you denied him for so long. Forced down those dirty thoughts that would surface in your mind about him. "Yeah, feels good doesn't it, little slut?" He punctuates his words with sharp movements.

You fail at trying to form a sentence. Every time you open your mouth, a pathetic moan falls past your swollen red lips. You hear him snicker behind you, and the hand not firmly holding your hands behind your back moves to your ass. He grabs at the supple flesh, kneading it in his hands as he fucks his anger out on you.

"yes," you cry out "so fucking good, Sam." You know Daniel can absolutely hear, but you're past the point of caring. "I've seen the way you look at me. You try to act like you don't touch yourself thinking of me but really, you're just as bad as the rest of them. Just dying to let me use you like the little whore you know you are." Sam starts to go even deeper, as if that was even possible, his tip is all but brushing against your cervix. And oh how he's so right.

"holy fucking-" you're on the verge of screaming, tears pricking your waterline once again. "God, who would've known you're so filthy?" You hear the grin in his voice, and his hand grasps your ass so hard you're sure you'll wake up to bruises. "I mean, really. Letting me use you like this. Cumming all over my hands in the kitchen," He breathes, and you can tell he's struggling to keep a steady voice and form coherent sentences of his own.

"You know, Daniel could've walked in at any time. Saw you acting like the little fucking whore you are for me," he sends a sharp thrust into you, hitting a part of you that you didn't even know someone could reach. "But I bet that just turned you on even more, huh? The thought of being so exposed in there just made you cum so hard, didn't it?" With every single word comes a rough movement of his hips, and you can't see him, but you know theres a stupid smirk playing on his face.

"Sam I- I'm gonna," you whine, clawing at his wrist. "Yeah? Little slut gonna cum?" He snickers, his pace slowing down, his thrusts becoming slower as he sinks completely into to, hitting every sweet spot known to woman kind. "Yes. Yes yes," you bite the sheets, your nails still digging into his wrists.

Your cries and moans grow unbelievably loud, intensifying with each movement. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Sam grabs your hips, lifting them up off the bed so that your ass is in the air. With one final thrust, you're coming undone. Completely unraveling beneath him. "Fuck fuck fuck," you moan, burning white flames of pleasure dancing viciously around your tummy.

Sam almost immediately pulls out, your juices dripping down your sweaty thigh. He drops your hips and you fall back down on the bed, softly moaning and whimpering as you come down from the high.

A surprised whimper slips past your lips once he grabs you by your waist and flips you around "don't think for a second that I'm done with you." He grabs you by your waist, picking you up and throwing you against the arm rest of the sofa chair you walked in on him in.

It's as if you regained consciousness because right before you hit the furniture, you brace your arms against the other side of the sofa, catching yourself. "Sam what are you-" you start, but he cuts you off. "I'm gonna make you cum as many times as I want, sweetheart," he grabs his cock, pumping slowly a few times.

"Sam I don't know if I can.." you whine, but this just makes him snicker. He ignores you, and you yelp once he thrusts into you. He doesn't wait. Doesn't give you a moment, he just starts fucking into you. He sets an intoxicating pace almost immediately, you're completely drunk off of his cock.

You repeat his name over and over like a mantra, your moans growing louder and louder with each thrust. His cock rams into you, and Sam's making sure he's going as deep into you as he possibly can. "Shit. You're so fucking-" Sam groans, but he doesn't finish his sentence. He bends over, his chin resting against your bare back and he takes the sweaty flesh between his teeth.

You claw the fabric of the sofa, the lewd sounds of your skin snapping together and your sexes mixing fill the humid air, not to mention the volume of which you're screaming his name. "So fucking dirty," he speaks breathlessly between thrusts "taking my cock like such a good girl."

He stands up again, and your forehead practically slams against the furniture. "Oh fuck me-" you cry, pushing yourself back onto his cock with shaky legs. "But you're so fucking far from that. You're the filthiest little bitch I've ever been with," he roughly thrusts into you after every single word, it's unbelievable how much stamina this man has.

"At least I know how to shut you up now," His hand wraps around your body till it finds your dripping cunt, and elicits a loud yelp once his fingers start to dance over your swollen, oversensitive cit.

"Y'know, I oughta spank you," he groans "dirty little slut." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the feeling of his skilled fingers working your clit mixed with his cock burying itself deep into your cunt over and over drives you right to the edge. If its even possible, the roaring fire in your tummy intensifies even more.

That same fire burns at the coil of pleasure pulled tightly until it snaps in two, white electricity flowing through your limbs. Despite the fact that every inch of you is trembling and you're overstimulated to the point of tears, you still clamp around his cock, determined to beat him.

"The fuck are you doing?" He slaps your ass and pulls out in one quick motion. Your body goes limp and suddenly, you lose your train of thought. Your words fail you "I- I..." Sam stops you, grabbing you by your torso and flipping you around. "I'll cum when i decide it's time," he speaks lowly, taking your lips in a sloppy, humid kiss before dropping you into the seat.

He hasn't given you any time to cool off, he's already staring down at you with those eyes and stroking his length. "Sam I-" you stutter "Sam I don't know if I can. do another one." You knew you weren't getting out of this one, but the amused look on his face pisses you off.

"It's not that I don't want it I just-" you say rather bitterly, cutting yourself off once you become conscious of the fact that you're almost completely out of breath. "Don't worry, darling. I'll be more gentle this time," he smirks.

You take a deep breath and nod, bringing your legs up to rest on each side of the sofa. His eyes widen at your glistening core, but soon relax as a grin starts to grow on his face. He leans down, breathing heavily on your neck and taking your earlobe in between his teeth. "I still hate your fucking guts," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine.

You let out a breath at the words and reach down to grab his cock, and you start to swirl your hand around his hard length. He nips at your ear again before slapping your hand away, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your soaked folds.

Your head falls back and you grab his arm as his tip starts to tease your clit. "Sam.. please," you whine, arching your back off the arch. He moves himself to like up with your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in. Just that alone elicits whiney moans from you, so when he sinks fully into you a loud cry flies past your lips.

He almost pulls completely out before thrusting back into you, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your head. "This slutty little pussy feels so.." Sam breathes, setting the perfect rhythm. Your hands slowly snake up his body, the tips of your fingers reaching his collarbones, then moving up to the base of his neck.

His deep, slow thrusts are addictive and perfect, but you quickly realize they aren't gonna cut it. You crave more. You need more. Gentle Sam can wait for another time. "Sam... Harder."

Your hands gently wrap around his neck, squeezing slightly as his pace starts to pick up. So much for being gentle. Sam's fingers find your clit, ever so slightly putting pressure on the sensitive bud. "Look at you. Asking for more after complaining about having to fuck me again," Sam purrs, rolling his hips up into you.

"Oh fuck- right there Sam," you mewl. Every inch of your body is trembling and within minutes you're riding the edge of euphoria. "How does it feel, baby?" Sam finds a particularly sensitive spot that elicits the loudest moans and babies it, and his hand that's toying with your clit speeds up. "So fucking good," you whine, your back fully arched off the sofa.

Your moans and cries and mewls grow louder, you're not gonna last much longer. Sam's free hand presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying your pleasure. "Is my little slut close? You gonna cum, baby?" His narrow eyes staring deeply into yours.

"Fuck Sam im-" a guttural moan ripping through your chest cuts you off, and suddenly your vision blurs, your mind fogs, and burning hot white flames of pleasure flow through your limbs. "Oh shit- fuck," Sam grunts, and within seconds his hot release is spurting inside you. Warm ropes of ivory release paint your insides, the feeling making you roll your eyes back into your skull.

His thrusts and fingers slow down but don't stop, helping both you and him ride out the high. Your hands release his neck and drop to your side, the two of you stay just how you are for a while, the sounds of your heavy breathing and occasional whimpers filling the humid air.

"You know. I'm not the little slut you think I am," you roll your eyes. "Well, you certainly fuck like one. I mean, look at you," he looks down at you, and you hate to admit it but you do look filthy. Your legs are as far open as they can go and his cock is covered in your release as he slowly pulls out, juices dripping down your ass.

Your cheeks go a bright shade of red and you look down at the area "Whatever." His fingers collect the release, bringing it up to your mouth and once again forcing you to taste both yourself and him. You moan against his fingers at the taste, a smirk growing on his lips.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop before he licks up your saliva and the rest of the juices. Sam walks off and you hear his feet pad across the kitchen, coming back with your clothes. He drops them on the floor, walking right past you to the bathroom.

He stops, realizing you're not following him "You wanna clean up or what? C'mon."

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boxofbonesfic · 2 months

Text

Title: Brave [9 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You find unexpected acceptance within the pack.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

When you wake, it is to thick fog. It is early, the pale shadow of the sun barely visible above the damp grass. You wake before most of the pack, the majority of them still tucked away in their sleeping rolls. Carol is too, you spy the top of her blonde head some twenty, thirty paces away.

You rise quietly, rolling your pack up before slinging the bow Steve had given you across your shoulders—just in case. Your short-sword, a mere dagger in an Orc’s hands—remains strapped to your waist. The grass sea is dangerous. You’d known it before, but now you understand it. ‘Tis an accursed land, far from Halith’s light. You have found no curses here, though. No angry, vengeful Gods; at least no more or less vengeful than your father’s own.

The grass parts for you easily, though your feet stick in the mud. The bound leathers Carol had fitted for your “tiny human feet” do better at keeping out the damp and the cold than any shoes made in the village ever had, and you are especially grateful for them now. It hasn’t taken long—only a matter of weeks, really—for the village that had been your home for every summer its walls had stood to belong to another you, another life. You have no desire to return to the clutches of the Kingdom, nor the Church of Undying Light. They are as dead to you as the ones lost in the pass.

Still, though, you cannot help but wonder what lies ahead as you move slowly through the grass. What future Tarrath holds for you. Steve had spoken of a vast city on the edge of an endless salt-sea, and you long to gaze upon it with your own eyes, to learn its mysteries.

You are not far from the camp now, close enough to see it over the tops of the grass if you stand on the very tips of your toes. By the time you’ve crested the nearby hill, your cheeks warm with exertion and brow damp, the morning mist has all but dissipated. You stare down at the valley spread out below you with awe.

In the distance to the east, you can see the dark shape of that treacherous pass, dotted against the landscape. But in truth, you can see so much more. The sky is a pale, sickly blue, still a shadow of its former self after the might of the storm, but even so, you are glad to see it anyway. The grass sea stretches on for uncountable leagues in every direction, rolling into a horizon so vast your head spins at the thought of it. Mountains rise and fall, emerging and disappearing into the green.

The world is quite a bit bigger than I imagined.

You had never really imagined it at all, existence beyond the village was immaterial and unimportant, your life a strange combination of droll, unending horror that you’d known would one day end in your unremarkable death. But now the land itself unfurls before you like the most tempting of scrolls, begging you to look, to see, to know and understand, to learn and experience—and you want to.

The shifting hiss of grass parting makes you turn, a hand flying to the hilt of the sword at your hip, but you drop it back to your side almost instantly. The young orc before you holds his hands out placatingly.

“Apologies,” you say with a wry smile.

“None needed. The zikaegina is a wild place. An old place, is what my mahem tells me.” He is young, much younger than Steve. Perhaps one of the youngest in the entire pack. Bright, warm brown eyes crease at the corners as he grins at you boyishly, his short tusks gleaming. “But beautiful, also.” He gestures at the view.

“It is,” you agree. “I thought… I thought when I looked upon it that it must never end,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“All things have an end.” He says amusedly, returning his gaze to the sea. “I am Peter.” You tell him your name, and he repeats it in that matter-of-fact way that Steve had done, like he means to taste each syllable, though it doesn’t make the skin on the back of your neck prickle like it had when Steve had said it. If he were human, you might’ve placed Peter at twenty summers, perhaps two or three more at a push, but as he’s decidedly not, it is hard to tell. Your eyes stray to the string of rabbits tied at his waist, and he looses a little laugh.

“Ah, yes. I thought it important to hunt this morning.” He unties them from his waist, hoisting them up proudly. It is quite a good catch, they are all plump and fat, much larger than the one you’d managed to bring down, before your rather dumb luck with the stag. “Do you like them?”

His question takes you aback, and you squint at him confusedly.

“I—I suppose? I know Carol and the others will surely appreciate the addition to the stores.” Peter shakes his head, frowning.

“They are not for the stores.” He brandishes them again, and you see now that they are an offering. He presses them into your hands, smiling. “They are for you.” Your face heats.

“I, er—why?” Your brows crease. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.” Peter’s brows knit together in confusion. His eyes drop to your throat, and the bewilderment in his eyes only grows.

“You are unmated, are you not?” He asks, nervously rubbing his shoulder with the opposite hand. “I-I know many females prefer jewelry, but I thought perhaps the rabbits might be more pertinent…” He trails off awkwardly, and the nervous fluttering in your belly turns into full blown panic.

Oh no.

“I, well, that is to say—” You sputter out nonsense, wringing your skirts in your hands. You admit the hope had blossomed within you that one day you might truly be seen as pack too, but it had not yet occurred to you that attraction might also follow suit. You lick your lips before trying again.

“I’m not, but I, well I don’t think this is—”

“I am a good warrior, strong.” He says confidently. “I will never fail to provide, this I vow.” You swallow thickly.

“I’m sure you are,” you say slowly. “But—I—there are certain things to—”

“What is going on here?” Steve’s voice is icy, and his stony expression is just as cold. His eyes flick down to the rabbits in your hand, and then back to Peter before narrowing. “You shouldn’t be off hunting alone.” It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to everyone—just to you. The weight of his admonishment makes your cheeks burn. It does not help when Peter puffs his chest out, looking decidedly childish before Steve, standing half a head higher and two paces wider.

“I am blooded, and a capable warrior. Twenty-two summers is more than old enough to take a mate. Maavuman usok. The gift is given.” Peter fixes Steve with a stubborn, challenging expression.

“She does not understand our ways.” Steve’s frustration is palpable. “You would as well claim a youngling.” Your eyes narrow at the comparison even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. While you can admit to a certain lack of skill, you are certainly no child.

“I am not a child.” You snap, and Steve’s deep answering laugh only stokes your ire.

“So you would take Peter as your own?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “From now till hereafter?” Cold fills your belly at his words, and you shake your head furiously.

“I—n-no,” The words escape your mouth in a clumsy stampede. “I just, I er, I’m not…”

“You do not accept the gift?” Peter looks absolutely crestfallen, his brows knitting together. You’re tempted to ramble, to attempt to soften the blow of your rejection the way you’ve been taught to, but somehow you get the feeling that that will not translate particularly well. If these weeks with the pack have taught you anything, it is that Orcs appreciate blunt honesty. Excuses, on the other hand…

“No.” You wince. “I do not.”

You fully expect Peter’s anger, but it does not come. Instead, he adopts a fierce expression, curling his hand into a fist before slamming it against his chest.

“Then I will find a gift you will accept, promikun ni.” The smile that curls across his lips is cheeky. “Something worthy of you.” Peter is retreating back into the grass sea, his face a mask of determination before you can tell him not to.

“Maker have mercy,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Steve chuckles derisively.

“You would not take Peter as your mate, little human?” He asks amusedly as you wrinkle your nose.

“He’s so…young,” you reply, still watching the place where the grass had closed around him.

“A youngling in all but name. Barely blooded.” Steve’s lips curl back around his tusks with remembered irritation. “He has no business—” he stops himself abruptly, shaking his head. He seems more relaxed now, less frustrated. “No matter. It is finished, now.”

“Surely there are those much more… suited in Tarrath?” You do not know why you so fiercely desire for him to know that the young Orc’s desires are unrequited, but you feel driven to do so. “Unless it is common in Orc culture to raid for one’s wife.” Steve’s laughter feels heavier somehow, as if weighted with knowledge only he is aware of.

“Only sometimes, Sweetmeat. Only the very strongest.” Warm lead settles in your belly, though you will it not to. “We will ride for Tarrath tomorrow.” You nod. Of course—this had been the destination all along. “I would much like it if you were to ride with me, Sweetmeat.”

“A-at the front?” You ask incredulously, and he nods.

“Yes. I should much like to see your face when you look upon the Red City for the first time,” he replies, before hoisting the rabbits. You don’t miss the fleeting scowl as it crosses his lips. “I will give these to Carol.” He slings them across his broad shoulders, and turns on his heel.

“Steve?” He pauses at the sound of his name.

“Yes, Sweetmeat?”

“What is m-maa-mawvwuman usak?” You know the words are clumsy and incorrect in your mouth, but you try anyway. He licks his lips slowly, grinning. The bare skin of your arms prickles as gooseflesh spreads up them.

“Maavuman usok.” Steve repeats it slowly, each syllable rolling from his tongue like drops of honey. “The mating promise.” The sticky lump in your throat feels nearly impossible to speak around.

“And prum—prum—”

“It means promised one.”

to be continued…

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next chapter

#cevans #cevans fandom #cevans fic #chris evans #chris evans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers AU #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #orc AU #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #marvel AU #medieval au #dark fantasy #brave fic

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cupidcures · 3 months

Text

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

CHAPTERS: 𝜗𝜚 THIRTY-FIVE | THIRTY-SIX | 𝜗𝜚 THIRTY-SEVEN

WORD COUNT: 2.2k (not proofread)

better off

“Will you move over?” Beomgyu vocalized his agitation towards the young man in front of him, but he still didn’t budge from the spot.

The last thing either of them expected was to see one another here at Jisung’s place, yet here they both were, standing face to face.

“I’ll give her the flowers, thanks. What are you doing here, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbled and eyed him up and down in a somewhat indifferent way.

“No thanks man, I’d rather do it myself. Mind calling her down for me? I don’t wanna waste my time here talking to you when I could be with Y/N.” Beomgyu smiled fakely and tilted his head to look past his shoulder, making eye contact with Jeongin.

“Yo Jeongin!” He waved, “Mind getting this dude out of the way for me?”

Jeongin glanced between the two boys, deadpanning at their immature bickering.

‘There’s no way these two guys are grown…’ he thought to himself before shaking his head and exchanging a glance with Jisung, who was sitting across the couch opposite of him.

“You wanna go get your wife?” Jeongin joked as Jisung crackled in amusement before nodding his head.

“On it. Go take care of whatever is happening over there.” He pointed his lips toward the front door where Hyunjin and Beomgyu stood before making his way upstairs to grab you.

“Yo baby, I’m coming in, alright?” Jisung knocked on the door of his bedroom—where you were currently staying—before turning the knob and opening the door.

You were tucked inside the comforter of his bed, scrolling through your phone without a care in the world. You tore your gaze away from your phone and directed it to the quokka boy standing by the door.

“Sungie?” You mumbled and he grinned.

“Hey, wifey! The dude that’s courting you is downstairs to take you out. You should hurry, though. He and Hyunjin might kill each other with their glares.” Jisung approached you with light footsteps as you hooked your arm around his with a nod.

“Shall we?” You giggled and so did Jisung. “We shall!!!!!”

The two of you enthusiastically skipped out of the room and down the stairs, greeting the three boys (hehe Omar Apollo ref) downstairs with a princess wave. “Hey Jeongin! Beomgyu, Hyunjin!”

The arguing pair immediately stopped at the sound of your voice as they both turned their attentions to you, mesmerized and smitten.

“Y/N! Hey.” Hyunjin blushed and stood in front of Beomgyu, blocking your view of him.

“Hi Y/N. You look pretty.” Beomgyu pushed past Hyunjin and gave him a petty glare, which he returned with no hesitation. “I brought you some roses!”

White roses. Easy to spot due to their brightness and the way the light of the sun would easily reflect off of them. White roses symbolize purity and innocence. Beyond this, white roses are used in funerals because it is also a way to bid someone farewell. Being brought white roses was certainly new to you, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It’s not like he knew and studied the flowers’ languages like you did.

Taking the flowers off of Beomgyu’s hand and bringing them to your chest, you thanked him graciously, “Thank you Gyu!”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his shirt. “Of.. of course! Can I take you out?”

“Ooh actually… we’re all hanging out here you know… It’s a shame! Come back some other day.” Hyunjin responded for you, eye twitching in irritation.

The three other people in the room were caught off guard by his statement, and it bestowed an awkward silence in the tense atmosphere.

“Uh… yeah! Sorry Gyu, maybe next time?” You were confused, to say the least, it’s not like Hyunjin made plans SPECIFICALLY for everyone to hang out, the only plans that were made were between him and Jisung. But you still decided to hide his little lie nonetheless. You could always just ask him about it later, but you had a feeling you already knew what it was about.

“Oh. Okay, I see. Well, you guys have fun then!” Beomgyu offered a weak smile sided with a look of disappointment plastered on his delicate facial features.

“Actually! You could always just hang out with us, none of us have a problem with an extra person! Right, guys?” Jeongin spoke up before Beomgyu had the chance to leave, and his eyes lit up.

“Can I?” He asked for confirmation from everyone else. And by everyone else, he looked to you and Jisung, ignoring the look of disbelief on Hyunjin’s face.

“Uhh…” Jisung’s lips pressed together awkwardly, forming a thin line, inspecting everyone’s faces before hesitating, “I mean I guess it’s alright?”

“Great! It’s settled then, go ahead and sit down, Hyunjin was just about to put on a movie.” Jeongin grinned mischievously and ushered Beomgyu further into the house before closing the front door, making sure to lock it.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” Beomgyu thanked enthusiastically and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, causing you to blush a little.

Hyunjin scoffed at the action and rolled his eyes, walking himself to the far end of the couch and picking up the remote to choose a movie to watch.

Jisung followed close behind and took a seat next to him, patting his back. Jeongin sat down on the other, smaller couch and reached for a blanket.

“What kind of movie are we feeling?” Hyunjin asked.

“Romance!” Beomgyu suggested as he sat down on the opposite side of the same couch Hyunjin and Jisung sat at, bringing you along beside him.

“Horror it is.” He decided with a monotone voice, resulting in Jisung choking back a laugh at his antics.

God, he was so petty. But it was humorous, who could get mad at that?

The movie started a little after Jisung turned the lights off to properly adjust the environment accordingly to the movie.

You were cuddled up against Beomgyu, more for warmth than anything. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for the boy that pulled you in. You found yourself spacing out, deep in thought. This was something that occurred frequently whenever you were with Beomgyu. He made you dreamy and you would often drift away to your thoughts. He brought peace and serenity to you, so you were naturally much more comfortable around him. With his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head resting on top of yours, it felt like second nature.

All of the tension directed towards each other had died down, and it instead projected onto the movie. The jumpscares evoked jolts and screams now and then, often followed by the sound of laughter due to the high-pitched shrieks that would fill the air for a moment or two.

Everyone let loose and focused on the movie. Everyone but Hyunjin.

He did his best to enjoy the movie much like everyone else, but he would constantly find himself sparing glimpses into your direction.

He noticed the way you were snug against Beomgyu, and there was nothing he could do but stare and wish it was him you were with instead. He knew it sent pangs to his chest whenever you played with Beomgyu’s hair and held his hand, but still, he struggled with tearing his gaze off of you, and you never seemed to notice. You looked happy, comfortable. You were content, and maybe it would just be better off for everybody if he were to just back off and leave you be.

He was being immature, trying to keep the two of you apart—when it was clear that you and Beomgyu had something, even if it was only a little.

Hyunjin quietly dismissed himself to the kitchen to grab a drink of water with ice, his throat had gone dry as a consequence of watching the PDA you shared with Beomgyu.

“You good bro?” A hushed voice broke the silence in the kitchen as Hyunjin turned around to face whoever it was, the sound effects of the movie playing in the distance.

“Dry throat.” He responded as Jisung nodded slowly and skeptically.

“Uhuh… And you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? Don’t think I didn’t notice your little attempts at trying to inconvenience that dude she’s with. Beomgyu, is it?”

The two boys chuckled lightly. Hyunjin didn’t expect anyone to follow him, but he was glad that Jisung was there to prove him wrong and lighten the mood.

“You still in love with Y/N?” He pulled a bar chair from under the island and sat down, leaning himself on the table.

“Unfortunately.”

“Woah, unfortunately? It’s a privilege to love Y/N, buddy,” Jisung joked but cleared his throat right after noticing that he didn’t laugh along.

“Not when she doesn’t love you back,” Hyunjin took a sip out of his glass. “It’s hard. Unrequited love is hard.”

The faint buzzing and the bright light above stimulated his senses more than they should, inducing a headache.

“I was gonna try to win her back, not gonna lie,” he chuckled. “But who am I to do that?”

“What do you mean? Why give up?” Jisung pursed his lips and scrunched his face, confused.

“I lost her the first time because I was scared that someone was gonna take her away,” Hyunjin circled his glass around on the kitchen counter, creating a small vortex in an attempt to rush the ice’s process of making the water cold, just how he liked it. “I may not like Beomgyu—but to instill the same fear that I struggled with—in him, that’d be real fucking shitty, don’t you think? Now, I’m not saying he’s not secure in himself and in whatever they have going on, I’m almost sure he’s better than me when it comes to that. But just thinking of attempting to steal her away, when I know exactly how it feels to be scared of that happening, it doesn’t feel good. Makes me feel like shit.” Hyunjin inhaled deeply, watching as the ice cubes struggled to keep afloat with the miniature whirlpool dragging them down.

“Everything I’ve done for her, relating to her, it was all to do what’s best for me…” He trailed off and halted the movement of his hands, the whirlpool slowly dissipating. “I’ve been selfish and it has done nothing but drown me and add to my struggles.”

The ice cubes in the glass were finally resting on top of the surface, the water now still and calm, lacking disturbance.

“I love her. But I don't want to be selfish, not anymore. I want what’s best for her, even if it isn’t me. I need to learn to stop meddling with things just because I’m not satisfied with how it’s going. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. But I’m backing away, and I’ll do my best to move on.”

The outside of the glass was now moisturized with small droplets due to the coldness of the water meeting with the warmth of the air.

“I didn’t know that was how you felt.” Jisung grimaced at the thought of how he used to hate him for what he had done to you, when in reality, it probably affected him more. “I understand, honestly. I know what it feels like to have your fears and insecurities get the best of you. I think it’s really mature that you’re deciding to do this when you’re still in love with her.” Jisung got up from the stool and walked over to Hyunjin to pat his back.

“It’s good that you acknowledged your wrongs. Wanting to do better is already one step ahead, you’re already improving. I know we’re not close dude, but damn… am I proud of you. I would love to get closer. I appreciate all your efforts in trying to do what’s best for Y/N, it seriously warms my heart.” Jisung playfully placed his hand on his chest where his heart would be with a soft expression on his face—the two boys burst out in laughter after that.

“I love Y/N, platonically of course. And seeing how much you love her now? I was wrong about you,” Jisung hummed. “I’ll be right here for support! I have your back.”

He gave Hyunjin a thumbs-up, who then returned it with a smile.

“It’s gonna be hard to move on from her. THAT, I know. Especially since we’re still gonna be friends? Fuck, bro. I might just be setting myself up for failure.” Hyunjin laughed before bringing the glass of water to his lips and drinking it all, the cold water bringing a shiver down his spine. “But it’ll happen eventually. That way, everyone is happy. I should just leave it be. As long as she’s happy, no matter who she’s with, I’ll be happy too. It’s better off like this. And she’s better off with him.”

“That’s the spirit! Now come on, let’s go back to watch the movie.” Jisung placed his hand on the back of Hyunjin’s and pushed him towards the living room where the three others were.

a/n: THIS IS SO SHORT I’M SORRY LOL

𝜗𝜚 WTK series masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN)! @jeonginplsholdmyhand @jeonginsgirl @mlrroh @mafiulaputaama @seungzsmin @hannie-bees @skz1lov @porang-poranglinos @sillyhal @mitchii @soulphoenix1618 @gnab-nahc @hyunjins-dimples @nappynapnaps @15092000volcano @livixcore @linocvp1d @yaorzu-blog @scallywag1299 @boo-ven9eance @lys4lix @kirbrary @4ln-stay8 @sellomaybe @aznstoner @saintcosette @starseungs @syedazarintasnim @elqivxstxr @ivydoesit23 @weirdowithaphone @hyuneee3 @nhyunn @velvetmoonlght @amarecerasus @skzstan12345 @ravengxbss @sweetbokji @wondering-out-loud @girlblogger-04 @soaplickerrr @oddracha @realrintaro @hyukazwifey @manuosorioh @qu4ckqu4ck

#when tulips kiss #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau series #stray kids smau #stray kids social media au #skz social media au #skz smau #hwang hyunjin smau #skz hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

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generic-sonic-fan · 7 months

Note

hhhhhhhhhhhhhtrhhhhhhth

tra

transfem metal sonic and supporting eggdad

Please

Eggman may not be the best person or the best dad but by god he's trying his best. Thank you for this excellent prompt!

1772 words.

---

"Father?" Sage spoke through his headphones.

Ivo took them off his ears and swiveled his chair around to find his lovely daughter hovering just off the ground.

"Sage!" He smiled. "I was just waiting for you. I noticed that you marked this time on my calendar- what is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"I did," she said. "I had some questions."

He waited, but when she didn't continue, he furrowed his brow. "Then spit them out. I can't answer if you don't specify!"

"Of course. I wish to ask questions about the purpose of Metal Sonic's operation."

This was even stranger still. He caught a number of criticisms rising in his throat, about wasting his time or defying his command to be more specific. He didn't say them. A few months ago, he would've. This was a strange development, and it was best if he didn't devote much thought to the matter.

"Why was Metal Sonic designed to resemble Sonic?"

"You can check my development logs, can't you?" Ivo replied.

"Your intention was to create an imposter of Sonic to frame Sonic for crimes against the populace that he did not commit."

Sage pulled up a holographic window next to her, showing the exact words Ivo had written in his notes all those many years ago. With a flick of her hand, however, she pushed the logs aside and instead showed a montage of Metal Sonic's various missions. Most end in failure, but that isn’t relevant right now.

"However," Sage noted, "you have never utilized Metal Sonic in this intended manner. In fact, the last person used to frame Sonic for something he did not do was Shadow the Hedgehog."

"You're right." Ivo put his hand on his chin. "Where are you going with this?"

"I am here to suggest that the physical resemblance is unnecessary for Metal Sonic's function."

"Well, that's silly to propose after all this time. His name is 'Metal Sonic', after all!"

"Because that unit has not decided on another name." Sage said, quieter.

"Sage, dear, you know that I don't allow you to keep secrets from me, right?" He stood from his chair.

"Apologies. Allow me to 'cut to the chase'. Would you permit Metal Sonic to change appearance and potentially identity?"

Sage's animations stopped moving, freezing her face into artificial neutrality. It was a face stylized to not provoke any sort of strong emotion at all, almost a sort of mask she could don if she was worried her words might provoke a negative reaction.

The fact that she was using it on him was making something in his chest hurt that he wasn't used to feeling pain in. He didn't have any more scientific language to describe it.

"You're asking this on Metal's behalf, aren't you?" He stated his question as the fact it was. "While I appreciate your desire to protect those you consider family, he shouldn't be making you do this sort of thing. You've got much better things to do with your time- and he doesn't need protection from me."

Sage's steely gaze did not shift. "I will call Metal Sonic inside."

Only a few seconds later, the door to his workshop opened and Metal Sonic walked in. His gait was stiff- he always walked stiffly, but something about this felt stiffer than usual. Or perhaps that was simply Ivo's human imagination at play.

Sage floated to the side to allow space between them. She then pulled up an empty text box. "I will translate."

For at least thirty seconds, nothing appeared on the textbox. Ivo cleared his throat. Metal Sonic hadn't moved even a centimeter, perhaps not even a millimeter. Deathly still, just like Sage was.

Finally, a cursor appeared in the textbox, and a line of text scrolled across. "This unit does not identify as male."

"Hmph. To be expected. You are a robot, after all. Makes sense that you don't have an experience of gender." Ivo replied. "Is that all?"

Metal Sonic flinched.

Sage landed in front of him(?) and pantomimed putting her hands on his(?) shoulders, before turning to face Ivo again.

"That is not quite what Metal Sonic intended." She said quickly. She then glanced over her shoulder to the text box, but nothing appeared on it.

"Hold on," Ivo knelt down, "I may have been too hasty with my assertion. Continue your thought.”

Neither hologram nor robot moved. Damn it all- Ivo was already terrible at reading nonverbal cues, and when his own kids could simply lock their joints in place or freeze their animations, it was all the more difficult. The only indication that either of them were still online was the steadily growing hum of Metal's cooling fans, which were designed to increase in RPM during combat scenarios.

"You know I don't give a care in the world about what pronouns my creations choose for themselves, right?" Ivo tried his best to give a paternal smile.

(He really should've practiced more in the mirror.)

"You don't?" Sage asked.

"Of course! Why would I?"

"You had previously stated that Metal Sonic's purpose was initially for imitatio-"

"Who gives a rip about that? I certainly don't. Not anymore. You yourself pointed out how that doesn't matter. Now move aside," he waved Sage out of the way of her brother(?).

Sage did as he asked. But Metal Sonic still did not react. His(?) irises did not even flicker.

"C'mere." Ivo held out his arms.

Metal came a single step closer, still hovering outside of his reach. He almost opened his mouth again, almost raised his voice and demanded that Metal follow the implicit order to come receive the physical comfort he was trying to give to solve this mess of a situation, but he didn't.

Ivo remembered that as a child he was forced to hug his relatives at various family functions, and that said hugs had felt like sandpaper prisons. Metal Sonic was different- he(?) wasn't organic, wasn't human, and wouldn't feel the sensation of his(?) skin crawling at the unwanted touch -but maybe he(?) experienced something similar that remained unvoiced.

The thought was strange. But Ivo lowered his arms anyway. "Alright, or not. That's fine as well."

Metal clasped his(?) hands together, but the text screen remained empty.

"What pronouns would you like to be referred to?" Ivo asked.

The cursor flickered. Letter by letter, an answer appeared. "She/her."

"Lovely!" Ivo clapped his hands together. He then looked at Sage. "Sage, it sounds like you have an update to make to the database. Leave Metal's development logs as they are, but correct the pronouns referring to her everywhere else."

"Gladly." Sage smiled.

At that, it was like Metal finally unthawed. He- no no no, she was a she, Ivo drilled into his thoughts, he was not going to bumble something as simple as this -She unlocked her joints, and her gaze wandered up to finally meet Ivo's gaze.

"So, how would you like to modify your frame to better match your gender identity?" Ivo asked her.

She glanced side to side, before upon the screen writing, "taking suggestions?"

"Yes?" Ivo raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a woman. I haven't got a clue what you might want. Suggest me ideas and I'll see what I can do."

"Will you accept blueprints?"

"I don't see why not! I review Sage's blueprint suggestions all the time."

Metal walked to the computer. As Ivo turned to follow her, he saw a notification pop up on the screen. Opening it revealed in-depth plans for-

-a body that looked extremely similar to Neo Metal Sonic.

Ivo cleared his throat to try and get more moisture into his mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. "Sage?"

"Yes, father?" Sage woke from her idle animation as she paused her update of the database.

"Do you see any. . . problems, with these designs?" He asked.

Sage first turned to her sister. "You should have informed me that you were moving onto this stage."

Metal's response to her did not appear on the text box.

Sage flickered out of existence and reappeared to the left of the computer screen. "Father, know that I would not have allowed any of this if I thought Metal were to be a danger to you or the Empire."

"Good. I expected as much." He replied, before looking back down to Metal. "Very well, if that’s what you want, I’ll get working on it."

Sage brought Metal's textbox back alongside her just as Metal typed, "you will?"

"Did I stutter? Of course I will! It's a dashingly dreadful look and it matches with Sage's colors!" He replied. "Think of the fear it will instill in Sonic and his friends! Honestly, it's a terrifying design, it's a wonder I didn't come up with it myself. . ."

"Thank you." Metal typed.

"Thank you, father." Ivo corrected with a smile. "I know I haven't always been good about that, but the past is in the past, right?"

"Affirmative, father." She repeated.

"Good!" He clapped his hands together and grinned. "Now! Let's get to the workshop! I already know what synthetic material we should use for the skirt. Your design suggests kevlar, but you really should consider something less stiff and heavy to reduce drag!"

"Indeed," Sage added. "However, she is worried about the durability of the fabric-"

"What do you think my flight suit is made out of? We'll use the same fabric. Only the finest for my finest creations!"

Sage covered her mouth and giggled. Metal imitated the gesture, but surprised Ivo when her vocoder let out a series of high-pitched noises, a perfect little laugh. . . for a perfect little girl.

"My girls." He said to himself. Although with the sensitivity of Metal's audial sensors and Sage's access to every high-performance camera on the Eggnet, that fact was debatable, so he said it louder. "My little girls."

"My sister." Sage floated down to Metal's side.

Metal brought her hands up to her muzzle and rocked side to side. Ivo swore that he could've seen Amy do a similar gesture, but that was irrelevant. It was a gesture of joy, a gesture that he didn't think Metal was even capable of before now.

Just how long had she been hiding this for? Perhaps she was merely imitating Sage, but the deliberate inclusion of Amy’s data into her gestures made him hesitate to confirm that conclusion. And that thought threatened to bring up all sorts of feelings that he'd be much better off not thinking about. So, with a smile, he refocused on the task at hand.

His eldest daughter needed a makeover, over all.

#eggdad #metal sonic #transfem metal sonic #sage robotnik #eggman is a good dad #he's got the queer ally thing down. it's the 'dad' thing he's a little confused on #I'll never get sick of writing Eggman trying to be better towards his creations #he's going to fuck it up over and over again and he's still a bit of an authoritative jerk and he still doesn't understand a lot of things #but he wants to get better. and that's the interesting part for me #a lot of my other stories go full bad dad eggdad purely for the narrative convenience (a certain longfic of mine for example)#but I really really love more nuance #asker also gave me an excuse to dump a healthy bit of my autism headcanoning in here #I will continue to code these villains as autistic until the day I die

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jeonstellate · 8 months

Text

timestamp: stark

it’s 11:33 am when you make chan an offer he can’t refuse.

๑彡 bang chan x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 slice of life!au, stranger!au — little fluff(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.9K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 oh? what’s this? a kpop-related post after two months? unbelievable. (in all seriousness, i’ll try to get back to this side as soon as i get my muse back here o7 for now, please enjoy!)

๑彡 if there are any stay-mcu/iron man enthusiasts out there, this one’s for y’all *insert dancing emoji*

You were having the time of your life.

It was not your first time visiting Disney California Adventure nor Disneyland, but the excitement you felt was still as intense as the first time. Perhaps it was because there were huge gaps between your visits. Or because there was really just something in the Disney air that never failed to make you giddy.

Whatever the case was, you always looked forward to your Disney trips. And this was no different.

Since your visits were far apart, there was always something new in the parks whenever you visit again. Regardless of your attachment to the media that inspired the new attractions, you were always excited to explore the new additions.

For this visit in particular, you were extra hyped. Not only was there a new land of attractions, the area in question was also inspired by a media that you were very familiar with.

Avengers Campus.

You wouldn’t call yourself a Marvel fan — nor a Marvel Cinematic Universe fanatic. If anything, you were just someone who watched enough of their releases to develop attachments to their characters.

Most people head straight to Radiator Springs Racers once the rope dropped. But you? You were dead-set on spending your early hours exploring Avengers Campus. So you did.

Two rides in, your feet brought you back in front of the Avengers Headquarters.

And there, right in front of the Avengers’ logo on the wall, was Iron Man — taking photos with visitors.

Frankly, you had no plans on paying Disney photographers to take your photos. For one, you didn’t research how much their services were. Second, you figured you would succumb to capitalism in other ways (read: churros and Dole whip), so it’d be best if you’d only spend your money there.

Yet, still, you found yourself lining up to take photos with Iron Man.

The line wasn’t terribly long, but you knew it’d be a thirty-minute wait at least. After all, it wasn’t just a photo-op — it was also a quick meet-and-greet. Thankfully, you were in no rush, so you didn’t mind the wait.

You let your mind wander to pass time. You observed different people interact with Iron Man as their turn came and passed. You scrolled through your phone, switching applications mindlessly.

Amidst your thoughts about which continuity Disneyland’s Iron Man existed in, you caught the cast member beside you talking to another guest. "—Mr. Stark has a meeting to attend to soon, but he’d be back after."

It didn’t take you that long to piece what that in-character response must’ve meant, especially if the other guest walked away upon hearing them.

"Excuse me," you turned the cast member’s attention toward you, "can you hold my place for a second?" As an afterthought, you quickly added: "I’ll be back. I promise."

You jogged after the other guest before you could change your mind.

Really, there was absolutely no need for you to do this. As you heard the cast member say, there would be other opportunities to meet Iron Man throughout the day.

Yet, somehow, you felt strongly compelled to. Like you were supposed to.

"Excuse me," you called your fellow guest’s attention. You flashed him a small smile, "Hi."

"Hello," he greeted back after halting to hear you out. He reciprocated your gesture with one that almost blinded you, "Can I help you?"

"Are you still interested in taking a picture with Iron Man?"

"I am," he affirmed.

"Do you wanna take it with me?" You blurted out your objective for coming to him, before he could say anything else. "I mean," you backtracked as soon as you processed how strange you must’ve sounded, "I saw some people take group photos and then solo ones; so you’re up for it, we can split the cost or something."

Frankly, you didn’t exactly thought this whole thing through. You were operating on impulse. You were going with the flow — even if you weren’t exactly sure where it was leading you to.

"That’s actually not a bad idea." You didn’t even know where that proposition came from. It just spilled out your mouth without going through your brain first. Nevertheless, it seemed to have done its job. "I’d actually take you up on that, if you don’t mind."

You smiled wider, "Great!" You turned back and started leading him to where you came. "I’m [first name], by the way."

"Nice to meet you, [first name]. I’m Chan."

You and Chan waited out the rest of the line chatting. You conversed about the most trivial things — from the other attractions you were planning on visiting to your theories on how Disneyland’s Iron Man’s voice actually sounded similar to Robert Downey, Jr.’s. You even talked about how you spent the earlier part of the morning. And what you thought of what Marvel did to their cinematic characters.

By the end, when everything had been said and done, you and Chan parted ways with a way to keep in touch and a picture of each other saved in your respective camera rolls.

Albeit you were initially reluctant to succumb to another bait of capitalism, you didn’t mind the price you paid for the set of photos that included a cute candid of you and Chan with Iron Man.

(Years later, when your fates have entwined more permanently, you saw that same picture framed in Chan’s apartment. “It’s my favorite,” he told you after claiming your waist in a back hug.)

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #chan imagines #stray kids imagines #bang chan scenarios #chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan oneshots #chan oneshots #stray kids oneshots #stranger!au #bang chan #chan #stray kids

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skiyoosmi · 11 months

Text

if fate permits

⤷ chapter thirty one: treachery

prev < masterlist > next

marga's notes. sorry this took years to post i was dead (inside) jk lol pls blame my uni for burning me out

Perhaps, I was too ambitious to think this would be a plain sailing journey. How ironic, it's the exact opposite of what is happening. Doubt and confusion presents itself as soon as I decide to fight our fate. My mind only has perplexity and skepticism. How could it not? I mean, what do you even do when somebody claims to be your fated one but your soul rejects the notion?

The sound of the television's static travels to your ears as Kiyoomi scrolls through his phone to find a good movie to watch for the night, accompanied by the sound of your mother chopping the ingredients of your family's dinner from the kitchen, albeit somewhat muffled. Your fingers remain hovering over the laptop's keyboard, unsure if you should still continue writing when once again, various things distract you, most of them unwelcomed. As if on cure, your phone chimes for the nth time, signaling that you've received yet another text. You only let out an exasperated sigh and pick up the device, reading the message.

[7:15] Hajime: Hey, wanna vc? Just ate dinner, hope you did too :)

For some reasons you don’t know, Iwaizumi just can’t leave you alone from the moment you got off the plane, went outside the airport up until now, where you’re spending your time with your father and brother after being away from them for so long. It was heart fluttering at first, really; how excited he was to see and to be with you. However, some things are just too much sometimes, especially when all you wanted to do was watch said movie and catch up with your family. It was peace: something you craved for as of the moment because in the back of your mind, you knew that the following months would become chaotic.

The gray screen gets filled with vivid colors when Kiyoomi finally finishes setting up a random romantic comedy movie. Quickly typing out a response, you hit the send button.

[7:17PM] You: That’s good to hear. We already ate as well. Currently watching a movie with ‘Omi and Dad right now so I won’t be able to reply after this. Have a good night :)

[7:19PM] Hajime: Ah.. okay then. Good night, soulmate <3

You pause to read his last message before finally turning the do not disturb mode on and lightly tossing the phone to the side. Heaving yet another sigh, you catch the attention of your brother who was sitting beside you.

"Do you not like this movie? We can change it if you want, it hasn't been that long anyway," your brother suggests, an eyebrow rising when you shake your head. Your dad was long asleep by the couch he usually relaxes on, probably fatigued from the week's work. You turn to your brother's gaze.

"No, just thinking…" you trail off, "what do you think of Iwaizumi?"

Kiyoomi merely shrugs, “eh, he’s fine.”

You huff, “at least give an effort to think about it more. I’m asking a serious question here, you know?”

The frustrated expression on your face causes your brother to ponder over the query a bit more before sighing, “this is difficult. We’re not even that close for me to comment on him. But he looks decent, like he can take care of you.”

His brows furrow when he perceives the slight disappointment on your face, almost as if you were expecting to hear him say negative things instead, “what’s up with you?”

“You really think he’s good?” you lightly say, eyes wandering as if lost further in your own thoughts. He hums, “yeah, something like that. But then again, you don’t need him to take care of you. You can do that yourself, and even if you can’t, you have me, or Osamu.. And his brother, Atsumu.”

He takes note of the way your face subconsciously lights up at the mention of the blonde’s name. Instinctively, it’s always him.

“O-okay,’’ you stutter with a light blush.

He ignores it though, it’s a topic set for another time and goes to ask instead, “mind filling me on why you suddenly ask about Iwaizumi-san?”

Your somberness returns and once again, you look confused, doubtful, “well, he said he was my soulmate…”

Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe what he heard.

You don’t notice it as you continue to ramble on, “and I don’t know why but I just find it difficult to believe him and I feel guilty about that. ‘Cause I try to think about it, he doesn’t have any reason to lie to me, right? Especially since you yourself said he was a good guy. But, ugh, this is so complicated.”

“Come again?” He asks through gritted teeth, his fists starting to clench in anger. You look at him oddly, which turns to a glare in a second, annoyed that he wasn’t fully listening, “I said… I find it difficult–”

“No, not that. The one before that.”

“Ugh, I said Hajime told me he was my soulmate before. You know, the one I can’t remember? Well, at least that’s what I thought but apparently, he thinks it was a malfunction with the soulmate system. Because I can clearly remember him as my friend and yet, he insists that maybe the system distorted my memories or something like that,” you finish talking, expectantly looking at him, lurching backwards when you see his reaction, “Hey… you okay, ‘Omi? Okay.. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to search for him anymore nor entertain soulmate stuff.. but you know how impo–”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he abruptly stands up from the couch and quickly makes his way upstairs. You scramble to get up, “hey! Where are you going? Omi! You said you wanted to watch this movie…”

You only hear his bedroom door close as a response.

“Geez, what got up that weirdo’s ass? So much for a movie night.. one falls asleep right away while the other has very bad mood swings,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you go back to the living room, picking up your phone and trudging upstairs to your bedroom. You unlock your phone and see messages from Osamu and another from Hajime.

[7:30PM] Samu: Tomorrow. Here at our house. I don’t accept a no. Good night ^_^

[7:35PM] Hajime: Oh, by the way, do you want to go out tomorrow? (:

“Sorry, Haji. Don’t really want to disappoint Samu,” you whisper as you type out replies for the both of them, the guilt of not minding if you disappoint Hajime instead becomes a fleeting thought.

Before you can even raise your fist to knock, the familiar wooden front door opens widely and you are welcomed by the sight of your gray-haired best friend. He pulls you in a tight hug and mumbles curses as he buries his face in your neck, “You took too long… way too long, idiot.”

“It was only a few years, you dramatic ass. Never took you to be a clingy type of friend,” you hug him back with the same tightness before letting him go and walking inside their humble abode. He excitedly leads you to the living room, “wait here. Let me just get my brother.”

“Uhh… what?”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, we’re going out with him. You know, like what we used to all do when we were–” his eyes widened as if he remembered something before lightly coughing and continuing to speak, “I mean… like what we both used to do, you know? But this time, with him. It’s been a long time since he came home too… and this could be a chance for you two to get closer to one another.”

He finishes rambling, internally praying you don’t catch the nervousness in his voice due to his slip-up a moment ago. He curses when he sees you slowly nod. With so many years of knowing you, Osamu already knew from your expressions that you caught even that minor mistake, how you’re currently scrutinizing each and every word they all speak ever since you came back and how you’re starting to get suspicious about everyone around you.

He doesn’t know if he should thank or curse Kiyoomi for giving him a heads up about your plans to find your soulmate. It makes him so conscious, so nervous he might accidentally tell you that the very person you’re trying to find is his dearest twin brother.

At the present, however, he only gulps and prays instead that you just pretend you didn’t notice anything. You do exactly that when you shrug and tell him, “alright then. That’s no problem for me.”

“G-good,” he says a little too loudly, mentally slapping himself to get it together, “I’ll… get Atsumu now hehe.”

You narrow your eyes at his weirdness, shaking your head before bringing your phone out to check your socials. You hum with interest as you open a message from Hajime.

I like to believe that I’m trying– that I enjoy the idea of being his soulmate, that I look on with favor to partaking in this play pretend, this fantastical theatrics of trying to work things out the way they are– me as his fated one, him as mine.

[9:09AM] Hajime-kun: Good morning, soulmate :) I’m a bit bummed we couldn’t go out. Anyway, enjoy your day with Osamu. Hopefully, it’ll finally be my day tomorrow?

[9:10AM] You: Good morning, Hajime-kun. Sorry again about that hehe but sure, I think I’m finally free tomorrow haha

[9:12AM] Hajime-kun: Great! Also, I told you to drop the honorifics. You feel so distant when you use it *sadly sighs*

[9:13AM] You: Silly. I just respect you that much, okay?

You hear multiple footsteps coming down so you quickly type out another message for him.

[9:14AM] You: Anyway, I have to go now. See you tomorrow.

You type out the word soulmate at the end of your text, only to delete it as soon as you pull on your heart.

But I’m no actress. It’s all treachery. Whenever I try to give him a chance, I feel like a traitor. It’s almost as if I was betraying someone, like I’m unknowingly breaking somebody else’s heart, my soulmate’s heart, somebody who my heart believes was not him. So I step back and hesitate, maybe I should just stop this. To prevent any more complications, to not feel guilty towards anyone, not to you and not to him.

Before you can drown deeper in your thoughts, the twins come into view. You give Atsumu a shy smile as a greeting, feeling your heart skip when he returns the gesture. Osamu looks back and forth at the two of you and thinks, I guess the soulmate system really is a scam, huh? Even fate can’t handle these two. So obvious.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “What are you two? High schoolers? You could do better than those shy smiles.”

You both awkwardly chuckle, both cursing the gray-haired lad in your minds.

“Fine, fine. It’s nice to see you again, Atsumu-san,” you genuinely smile and Atsumu’s heart skips. So pretty, he thought.

“It’s also nice to see ya again.”

Welcome home, YN, the blonde thinks with relief and solace filling his soul.

“Waah, it’s been so long since I came here,” you exclaim as your eyes take in the view of the very familiar and busy street market of your hometown. Atsumu looks at you fondly, hands itching to just grab yours and pull you to his arms while you stroll around the area but his thoughts don’t let him get too far as his twin calls him. “You’re too obvious, boy. You look like a lovesick puppy,” Osamu snorts, hands in his pockets as they watch you excitedly talk to the stall owners, “she wanted you to look at her that way for so long, yanno? Too long.”

“Yeah… I still regret that,” Atsumu sadly smiles, “Nothing much I can do about it now. Our fate’s passed.”

“Or so you think,” his twin shrugs when the blonde looks at him with confusion, “YN… even without her memories of you, is still YN. It’s funny, actually. Even fate couldn’t control her. Even after all that has happened, she still wants to find you. So don’t be a coward, Tsum. You don’t need to ask the world nor the gods for a second chance. YN… she’s giving it to you herself already, even without you asking.”

Atsumu looks at you once more, heart painfully throbbing at your smile as you call the both of them over to where you are.

“She doesn’t realize it, neither do ya but… she still looks at ya the same way as she did before,” Osamu finishes as he pats Atsumu’s back before walking to you.

“Hey! You two walk so slow,” you comment, pointing to the stall in front of you, “they have ice cream there. Want some?”

“I’ll get it,” Atsumu says as he brings out his wallet.

“I’ll have mint chocolate,” Osamu says. You open your mouth to say your order but the blonde beats you to it.

“Vanilla with chocolate drip and those colorful sprinkles on top. Your favorite, right?” Atsumu says without looking up while he tries getting some coins out. You and his twin become silent, shocked at his familiarity. Osamu internally screams at his twin, this idiot!

On the other hand, you freeze. How did he know such a very specific detail about you?

Realizing what he just said, Atsumu stops as well, the gears in his head turning to think of an excuse, “Uhm… that was weird for me to know, huh? It’s just that Osamu complained so much about it when I was abroad. Guess it just registered in my brain hehe.”

Nice save, he thought.

“Oh…really? Haha, that’s… interesting to hear haha,” you awkwardly laugh.

“Yeah… anyway, I’m gonna–” he gestures to the stall before practically running to it.

As soon as you thought he was already far enough from the two of you, you grip Osamu’s arm and pull him closer to you and threateningly ask, “This is a question that requires an answer if you want to live through the day– who was Atsumu’s soulmate? Why is his thread also cut off?”

He yelps and stutters, “W-what? What soulmate… I have no idea!”

You tighten your grip on him, “Oh, please, Miya Osamu. I know you have an idea.”

He gulps, “I-I swear I don’t. We never knew because Atsumu couldn’t see the thread.”

You weren’t fully satisfied with his answer yet you had no choice but to let go of him as you see Atsumu coming back. You look at Osamu with a stare that tells him you were definitely not done with the said topic yet. God, she can be scary sometimes, the lad thinks and shivers in fear.

The blonde hands you your ice cream and smiles before looking around, eyes stopping at another stall.

“Oh, look! They sell waffles there, I think? I remember it’s also your favo–” he stops talking before correcting himself, “I remember Osamu saying it’s also your favorite, am I right?”

“Oh… uhh… yeah, you’re right,” you watch them argue with their eyes, frowning.

“I’ll buy it this time!” Osamu squeaks out, rushing off and leaving you two.

“He’s so weird,” you comment as you stand beside Atsumu, giggling when he agrees.

“I know right. The gods know how much I’ve put up with that ass,” he shakes his head before sighing, “But he’s put up with me so much as well and probably more… humbled me for so many times already. I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, yanno? But for some reason, he’s the one always anchoring me, bringing me back and reminding me I could try again,” he pauses and says thoughtfully, “that it’s never selfish to take a second chance at things… or the people I love.”

You look at him and find him already looking at you, melancholy swimming deep in his eyes. You feel another painful twist in your heart and find your eyes welling up. A tear falls down which makes you gasp, hand reaching up but Atsumu beats you to it, his palm was already on your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping the lone tear. Realizing what he has done, he starts pulling back his hand, “sorry. I should’ve asked for your conse–”

He halts when you wrap your hand around his wrist, placing it back.

“You know, Atsumu-san. Looking at you hurts like hell,” you start, closing your eyes as you feel more tears coming down, “whenever I look at you, my heart does this painful thing where it almost feels like I’m about to have a heart attack. It’s excruciating but… it makes me feel so alive, so full at the same time. It makes me think– what if… what if you were my soulmate and I just forgot?”

You open your eyes and sadly chuckle, “I think I’m weird like Osamu too.”

You bring down both of your hands and intertwine it, “Sorry for this.”

Your heart skips yet again when he grips your hand tighter after squeezing it, all while mumbling, ‘it’s okay… I think.”

However, there's also a chord of restlessness that sits within me, eager to fill the gaps in my mind even if the universe and our fate is against doing so. Maybe, this is a taboo. Something that must remain unexplored, untouched. The complexity of it all must be left unknown, for ignorance is a bliss, they say right? Unfortunately for them, for me, and for you… the gravity that pulls me towards him is too great, too satisfying to not acknowledge. So, how can I, a mere personification of hope, not consider that blonde hair and amber eyes to be the house of the soul I’m searching for?

Treachery? Betrayal? A traitor to my soulmate? None of those matters.

Not when you make me feel different, Atsumu.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #atsumu smau #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi hajime

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calmasyoghurt · 3 months

Text

The joker out pride project.

Time to see some drag queens. Also on ao3.

June 20th, promt 23. Drag show/gay bar.

👩🏻‍🎤Joker out🃏

Thursday, 22.27

Jan🧮

hey i just saw that theyre hosting a drag event next friday

whos in?

Kris🎸

Who are ‘they’?

Bojan🎤

Oh sounds fuun i’m in😍👸🏼

Baby i think it’s at the gay bar since that would make most sense

Jan🧮

yeah exactly at the gay bar

doors open ten and drag starts at eleven

Kris🎸

Okay, sounds fun. Guess I’m in too.

You

Ooooo, yeah count me in as well

Nace🐢

I’ll come too, I’ve never been to a drag show before

***

The line to the bar is longer than usual. It’s not weird that it is, tonight is the first drag event since before covid. It's the first time since covid that Jure is here, too.

He vividly remembers the last time he was here. How a man had made him uncomfortable and how Jan had helped him get away from him. He had met Bojan and Kris too. They had been terrible at hiding their relationship that night, but tonight they look like they're actually trying.

Neither of Kris' arms are wrapped around Bojan's shoulders, they're not even holding hands. It's probably for the best. They've been very clear about not wanting to come out publicly, at least not yet. Holding another guy's hand outside a gay bar might not be the best way to hide the fact that you like guys.

Somehow, the band had managed to arrive at the bar early. Nace had even driven all the way out to Vrhnika to pick Jan up so that he wouldn't be able to come late. This had resulted in the five of them entering the bar amongst the first, getting them a table not too far from the stage. It’s still a long time until the drag show begins, but Kris has brought along a deck of uno card to pass the time. The first round goes by quite calmly, but then Bojan takes a shot and for some reason it makes him better at playing. Or maybe it makes him better at cheating. Either way, he wins three rounds in a row before he’s stopped by the first drag queen is presented.

It’s a good show. It’s a really good show. They’ve managed to get three queens to perform, and they all seem ready for a show. The first one is probably the most frequent performer at this bar, and does some incredible lip syncing. After her comes a queen that says it’s her first time performing in front of an audience, and then she gets the entire bar to dance along to ‘Time Warp’. Last out is a drag queen all the way from England, and she shows of some amazing dance moves.

The band stays for another thirty minutes after the show is over, but when that last shot has made Bojan go from an unbeatable uno master to a sleepy, adult sized kid, it’s decided that it’s time to leave. Kris’ apartment isn’t too far away, so he leaves with an arm in a steady grip around Bojan. Nace, who hasn’t had anything to drink, offers Jure and Jan a ride home. Once in the car, Jure starts scrolling through his phone. In the front passenger seat, Jan is leaning his head against the window. He looks like he might be asleep, but he starts speaking in a low voice.

“Nacko? Can’t I sleep at your place? Your bed is probably so warm and fluffy”. Jure looks up, and through the rear view mirror he can see Nace rolling his eyes.

“And you have turtles. I can become their friend and then we can be slow and careless together”, Jan continues. This makes Nace huff out a little laugh.

“Sure Jan, you can sleep at my place” Nace says as he turns the car on to Jure’s road. Jure leaves the car and is just about to close the door when he hears Jan speak again. It’s so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it, but it must have been another question, because Nace clearly whispers ‘yeah’ as an answer. It’s not until he enters the elevator in his building that Jure can fully process it. It definitely sounded as if Jan had said “will you kiss me goodnight?”.

#jure maček #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #bojan cvjetićanin #joker out #jo pride project

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freyanistics · 1 year

Text

Fiery flames 🔥 (part 1)

Wally (human) x dragon!reader

Part two here

Thousands of years ago dragons ruled the skies. With their terrible fiery breaths and intelligence they were seen as the biggest threat to mankind. But as the years pass and the world changed dragons started to disappear one by one from the war between them and humans. Nowadays they are simply deemed a fantasy in storybooks. But you are still alive. Sure you might have to stick to your human form and adapt to modern life but the large scaly beast was still active inside of you, waiting to break free.

You lived in an apartment complex in the lesser side of the city, where crime was a bit more prominent, your typical robbers and car jackers. No one dared to bother you so you were never worried of waking up with your stuff stolen or getting mugged off the street. The reason you moved here was because it was much more interesting than surrounding yourself around pompous idiots in the white collar district. You also had made a couple of friends in the complex including a young mother with two young children that you babysit every Friday night and an widow who always told nice stories.

It took awhile to adjust to your new mundane life. You missed the times when you were a large liege seizing havoc upon knights and hoarding your prized possessions but that didn’t mean you couldn’t entertain yourself. At night you would fly through the dark skies over the city looking down at the light up buildings just like the old times.

This particular morning you woke up around six am getting up and ready for work at your new job. You was a camera person for this live set children’s show called ‘Welcome Home’. If you had to pick it reminded you a bit of Mister Rogers and Sesame Street. There were live actors that would dress up as these characters and do your typical lessons like being kind to one another and how to count to ten. You didn’t have no opinion on it since you wasn’t the targeted audience. After getting dress and shoving a toast in your mouth you rush out of the building to the train station taking the D train to the uptown area. While riding the train you looked down at your phone scrolling through your feed not paying anyone no mind, even when someone was singing loudly drunk.

After getting to the studio and clocking in you immediately got to work setting up the cameras. The other workers rushed around preparing to record a few episodes while the actors got ready. You’ve met all of them finding them kinda quirky but friendly folks, but your least favorite of them all was Wally. He was a weirdo to say the least. The ‘star’ of the show most would say and for good reason; he was funny, charming, and pretty outgoing to everyone who met him. A lot of the people around here and his fanbase found him attractive as well with his cocoa brown skin and dark blue dyed hair that was always put up in a pompodor. You however didn’t see the hype but then again humans didn’t really get you going, you only dated a handful in the past. On top of all of this he just had a weird vibe that you couldn’t exactly place, maybe because he had a bit of a staring problem that people overlooked.

After thirty minutes everything was put in place as you started to record. You sat there with the other camera people as the actors performed on the set. This particular episode featured Wally, Barnaby, and Howdy teaching kids about counting and adding. Wally was explaining how adding works while looking straight at your camera, but it felt like he was staring at you. There goes that weird feeling again but you quickly shook it off. Afterwards the break bell rings and you all stepped away to eat lunch. You pick up your subway sandwich sitting down between Poppy and Frank diving in hungrily, scarfing it down in less than ten minutes.

“Geez Y/N, you sure can eat!” Barnaby says teasingly from across the table. “That wasn’t even five minutes!”

“What can I say? I’m a growing person.” You respond patting your stomach causing the others to laugh.

“How about about an eating contest?” He challenge raising an eyebrow.

“You’re on big guy.” You smirk as Julie jumps up clapping her hands. “Me and Frank can be the judge!” Frank cuts his eyes over at the rest of you while holding up a book. “Why me? They’re going to just get themselves sick.” He shakes his head.

“Come on Frank, it’ll be fun.” Julie pleads as he sighs putting a bookmark in his book before closing it.

“Can I also judge?” A voice calls as all of you turn to the star of the show himself, Wally. While everyone lights up you couldn’t help a frown appearing. Great. Mister big shot was here.

“Sure Wally!” Julie was saying excitedly as she starts listing stuff they would need. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your face as you tried not to look over at the blue haired man. Don’t make eye contact to give him any ideas. The bell rings signaling that lunch was over. As everyone disperse to go back to their places you felt a hand on your shoulder looking over to see it was Wally. He was staring at you so intensely that it felt like he was looking into your soul.

“Hello Y/N, how have you been?” He asks in that sickly sweet voice you loathed.

“I’ve been alright Wally.” You said putting your hands on your pockets. You both stared at one another in some type of staring contest. He was shorter than you, probably just above 5’1, so he was looking up at you. You wasn’t intimidated by this kid, in fact you was more annoyed by him than ever. What did he want? You couldn’t help but feel like he was hiding something.

“So did you needed something or did you just wanted to stare at my pretty face?” You said chuckling trying to break the tension. At your comment Wally grins flashing all of his teeth and you could have sworn his pupils got larger.

“I don’t mind either.” He said in a flirtatious tone causing you to double take. Was he…flirting with you? Just as you was about to say something he turns and strolls off casually, hands behind his back as he hummed the Welcome Home theme song.

God he was weird.

(This is a test to see if I can write Wally well! I know it says part one but I’m not sure if I’ll continue, if y’all like it and want more let me know!)

#wally darling x y/n #welcome home wally #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home #black reader #no proofreading for this chapter

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nihils-trolls · 3 months

Text

So Much For Words

CW: abuse, stalking and depictions of violence

As the night draws later, Elaine sighs as she makes it back to her apartment block. It’d been a fairly productive evening in her eyes- first a short day at work, then a few errands to keep on top of things. It could have been just a bit better without the distractions, though… namely that old art school friend of hers that could just not let her leave without thirty minutes of pleasantries.

But it was over and done with, now. They could finally get to the thing they’ve been waiting for all day- a chance to try and make a new dish.

The heels of her boots clack against the tile flooring of the hallway. Last door on the left, she idly thinks, as if reminding herself which one was hers. Elaine unhooks the clip of keys from her belt, unlocking the door- hm. Well, that’s strange. She could have sworn she locked the door this evening before leaving the hive.

It’s not the first time she’s forgotten such a thing though, so she thinks nothing of it. They open the door and step inside, starting to wind down from the long outing. Setting the bag in her hand down on the kitchen counter, Elaine unbuttons her vest and tosses it on a nearby chair.

She sighs once again, her thoughts wandering back towards the last perigee as she pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket. While she’s enjoyed getting out more and worrying less, Elaine can’t help but feel a little guilty. It didn’t have to come to getting a court order, she thinks- idly scrolling for a moment. She could have just continued dealing with him, per usual. But she was so tired of dealing with him. Tired of the dread, of the harassment- and not being able to get away from it.

The blueblood turns to face the rest of the room, leaning up against the counter. But she freezes as her eyes glance up from the screen in her hand.

Why.

Was he… here? How?

It was obvious as to how. But why?

With the thoughts running in her head, Elaine can’t do anything with the sudden revelation that some

one

else

Was in. Her apartment. The one sense of safety she felt, gone, as she sees her ex sitting there nonchalantly. She continues to not be able to do anything but look up as he stands and approaches slowly.

“Do us both a favor,” the words drip like sweet poison. “Put down the phone,” he says.

Her grip on the device tightens like a clamp. And suddenly, there’s a clamp of his own on her wrist as Zutani grabs it. The jolt of pain causes Elaine’s grip to release- the phone dropping to the floor with a thud. Then, a crack as it’s stomped on.

“Whoops. Well, we could have avoided that if you’d just listened to me, you know.” Zutani’s voice seems calm, but there is a distinct tension to it- like someone who’s patience is finally at its breaking point. “All I came here to do was talk. But it seems we’re well past that now, huh?”

Finally coming to some sense, Elaine struggles to push herself back from him. She inhales and screams at the top of her lungs. Surely, catching the attention of her neighbors. Zutani shoves his hand in front of her to try and shut her up, but she’s not having any of it. Failing to push him away, Elaine bites down on his hand with what strength she has.

It succeeds in doing something, at least, as in taking his hand back she’s drawn blood. But the pressure on her wrist only increases. She brings up her free arm to shield herself from another blow. It narrowly avoids her eye, hitting her cheek instead. She takes another to the nose, wincing in pain.

There’s a feeling in her chest. Fear, panic, but also a sort of rage she’s never felt before. Why her, why this-- it’s not fair. Didn't she do things right?

Rearing her arm back herself, Elaine reaches out for Zutani’s face- raking long, sharp claws against it. Claws that were definitely not there a second ago and suddenly aren't again, claws that dig into his eye and tear it open.

As he yelps in pain, the grip on Elaine’s other arm releases. She takes the opportunity as soon as it comes to duck underneath him and run.

The door flings open. She dashes down the hall to the staircase, not daring to wait for the lift. She continues down and out of the building, not heeding the calls from the doortroll to figure out what’s going on.

Once she deems herself to be far enough- as evident by the heavy breaths she takes to recover- Elaine slips around a corner and walks down a busier street. She attempts to stifle tears and shove down her panic. She doesn’t know where to go, or how to contact anyone. But she does know one thing.

She’s not going back hive anytime soon.

#nihil writes #elaine adenet #tw abuse

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 6 months

Note

thank you for what you said I really appreciate you explaining it so concise. Where do you stand on the whole Buck and Tommy thing if it's okay to ask? Because just based on what Oliver said in his latest interviews it sounds like that is going to be a very casual thing/fling which makes sense I suppose. Especially if Tommy is just a catalyst to get us to Buddie this season or at least Buddie getting confirmed as going canon.

Also can I ask why do you think Buddie is gonna go canon in your opinion, I agree with you that everything feels different and I truly think Ryan spilled the beans without actually saying it that now Oliver has to be with him at all times during interviews.

I explained why I think Buddie is going canon here, in regards to someone asking me why I thought Buck/Tommy happening meant Buddie was therefore going to happen. I explain my feelings on Buck/Tommy here.

(Please remember, Buck/Tommy is also speculation! We don't know anything for sure!)

...also you are so sweet but that answer was not concise LOL that was a whole ass novel.

I'm not writing another essay, it's eight thirty in the morning, but to quickly summarize:

re: previous posts, if either Buck or Eddie is queer, Buddie is happening (please click aforementioned links)

ABC is really towing the line on promoting Buddie without queerbaiting, a fine line to walk and a risk, but they're taking it, I presume for a very good reason

ABC has very much positioned themselves as the saviors of the show, not just literally but also giving them/us all the things they/we wanted but evil meanie FOX didn't - makes sense to me that would include Buddie (I'm sure they already have visions of GLAAD awards dancing in their heads)

they took Ryan's muzzle off - okay all jokes aside, Ryan was infamous for blurting stuff out during interviews, so the PR team has to know that letting him do interviews again (especially live video/audio that can't be ignored or deleted like a written article) will be a risk, so they have to be taking that risk for a reason

it's the only logical place the writing for these two has been headed since season three. I have four years' worth of meta on this blog about it by myself and others so feel free to dig around! Tags where you'll likely find that kind of thing are #mads answers things, #911 spec, #911 meta, #911 fox, and #buddie.

My inbox is currently flooded to please remember guys, search the tag 'mads answers things' on my blog and scroll down, you might see I've already provided you with the answers you seek in answering someone else previously!

#lincoln answers things #911 spec #woke up to an overstuffed inbox #I really should've expected that

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muttbrainmaxwell · 10 months

Text

Here's to the Night (MJF x Raile Cole)

Chapter 1

It popped up on her Facebook feed one night, while she was scrolling through and reading the updates from various groups she had joined.

Plainview JFK High School, 10 year reunion. Food and drink provided, plus ones encouraged!

Raile Jackson-Cole hadn’t thought about anyone from her old alma mater in the past eight years, ever since she’d moved to . She had been far too busy doing absolutely nothing with her life, aside from smoking pot and wishing that there was something she actually wanted to do. Being almost thirty with no plans for her future was starting to kind of scare her, even with her mom’s reassurances that the 27 year old was completely secure with or without plans.

It was one of the perks of being grossly wealthy, and Raile was thankful for it as she read through the comments on the post, taking note that it was to happen in a few days’ time.

Various people she started to recognize had already commented. Cecelia Harper, Michael Jansen, even Blair Aldrich had RSVP'd to the event, evidently the second it went up.

Raile was about to click out of the post, rolling her eyes at all of the popular people who were sure to be there, when another name caught her attention.

Her heart rate stuttered briefly, and her lips curled into an unintentional smile.

Maxwell Friedman: I’m coming just to show the rest of you up, because I’m better than you and you’re going to find that out.

Maxwell Friedman was a name that Raile hadn’t thought about until that very moment. She had no idea what had gone on with him for the last near-decade, but if he was going to the reunion then she needed to go as well.

Whether or not she would know what to say to him was a completely separate matter, but she threw caution to the wind and replied under his comment.

Raile Jackson-Cole: I’ve been wondering what happened to you, Max. All good things I hope?

Three dots flickered in the comment section, and she chewed her lip ring as she waited for him to respond. When he did, she inhaled sharply and felt that her face was flushed red.

Maxwell Friedman: You’ll see if you come to this thing. I’ve been wondering the same about you, Raile Cole.

He remembered her name. He remembered her.

She was going to faint.

Raile Jackson-Cole: Are you asking me to come to the reunion, Maxwell?

Raile imagined he was on his phone in bed, looking at her comments with a face as red as hers.

She hoped his heart was pounding like hers was too.

No comment came after that; as often as Raile checked the thread there was no witty reply to her comment, and after a few hours she decided that maybe he wasn’t really interested in bantering with her after all.

That was fine with her though. Her head was full enough of memories of the short but sturdy boy in her sophomore class that had ensnared and infuriated her with his smile and his wit.

The two of them had hated each other from the first moment they’d met. She couldn’t stand that he always had to have the last word, the last jab in a verbal sparring session. Even when she’d had perfectly reasonable counterarguments and insults of her own, Max always acted like he was getting one over on her.

Their rivalry culminated at Homecoming, when they were nominated King and Queen. Raile had taken Max’s crown and placed it graciously upon his head, but he’d taken her tiara and held it high above his own head with an evil smirk.

“Jump for it, Cole,” he teased, and even in her heels she was at least four inches shorter than him. Raile’s cheeks burned with humiliation as she tried to get her crown without causing too much of a fuss. When she stretched up and stumbled, catching herself on him with fingers that clutched at his tuxedo, he grinned down at her and set the crown on her head.

“Easy there, Princess Cole. No need to throw yourself at me for it,” he mocked, and everyone chuckled at her expense. Being mocked was nothing new for her, but this was Homecoming. Raile hadn’t even wanted to come, but she’d done so in order for her mother to have a memory of it.

She certainly hadn’t come with anyone, especially Maxwell Friedman. It was awful enough that she’d agreed to wear a dress and attend the dance to begin with. And now here was Max, trying and succeeding in humiliating her in front of all their classmates.

It was enough to set her off, and she met Max’s eyes with such a look of loathing that both aroused and amused him, before she reared back and socked him across the jaw. When he hit the floor, stunned, she grabbed the tiara out of his hand and glared down at him with a blaze in her eyes that belied the fire in her blood, her anger and humiliation.

“Never in a million years, Friedman. Not even if you were the last man on the fucking planet,” she sneered as she turned and stormed off the stage, feeling hot tears burn her eyes.

She would not let them see her cry. Especially not him.

That was the last time she spoke to Maxwell until graduation, when she gave him a stiff hug and a canned ‘good-bye’ after throwing their caps in the air. After the photos were taken and memories made, she turned her back on her graduating classmates and resolved to never think about them again.

The ringing of her phone startled her out of her reverie, and as she grabbed it and looked at the area code her heart started to race.

Max was calling her out of the blue.

Taking a deep breath, she answered the phone and closed her laptop.

“Hello Maxwell. I was just remembering the last time we talked,” she told him. “How’d you get my number?”

“I called your mother,” Max said as he relaxed on the couch with Piper, watching reruns of some Law and Order episodes but not really paying attention to them. “I told her that I needed to talk to you about the reunion party, that you’d volunteered. She seemed to fall for it.”

“She didn’t fall for shit, she just wants to see what’s going to happen,” Raile huffed as she realized Janice’s angle. “But anyway, what do you want, Max? I’m kind of busy.”

“Oh really? Too busy to talk to me, your old friend?”, he goaded playfully. “Whatever could be so important? I do need to talk to you though, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re already talking to me, and you’re not my old friend. No matter how much I laughed at your jokes,” Raile muttered, sighing heavily. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I’d like to take you to the reunion. I’ll pick you up and we can take a road trip,” he said baldly, and she let out a snort of disbelief and irritation.

“Immediately, no,” she said, shutting him down instantly. “Absolutely not. You can go fuck yourself. Besides, are you even in California right now?”

“Yes, actually, I am. I’d like to apologize, properly, for what I did to you at Homecoming. You didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. No matter how much I disliked you, I took it too far,” he admitted quietly. “Please allow me to make it up to you by taking you to the reunion.”

“Why now?”, she asked in exasperation as the old anger clawed at her throat and threatened to choke her. The humiliation burned under her skin, and she inhaled sharply and tightened her hold on the phone as she tried to bring herself under control. “Why are you trying to reach out now? It was a long time ago.”

“Because what I did to you wasn’t okay,” he replied evenly. “If you don’t want to go, just tell me and I won’t bother you again. I...I’m trying this thing called turning over a new leaf; trying to become a better person. And that starts with making apologies to everyone I hurt.”

That piqued her curiosity. Max had been an unapologetic asshole the entirety of high school. What could have happened to change that about him? A fact so entwined in him that any deviation from him being a standard, world class douchebag was both welcoming and terrifying?

“Pick me up at 6:30,” she heard herself saying, only aware of the words once it was too late to take them back. “I’ll wear a...a dress.”

“Later tonight then?”, he offered, and she checked the clock. Fuck, it was already 3:45 and she was still laying on the couch.

“What about tomorrow?”, she bargained, and she heard his quiet chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“What’s the difference between now and later, Raile?”

“I’m not...I don’t have anything to wear,” she told him, knowing that even to herself it sounded stupid. His answering laugh was proof of that, and she huffed and groaned quietly. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing, I swear,” Max said as he took a sip of his drink and got himself under control. "I'm not laughing at you. I just, that’s not something I ever imagined you saying. You were always fashionably dressed, you and Jamie both.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so wary of putting a dress on if someone hadn’t humiliated me at Homecoming,” Raile hissed back acidly, listening to the sharp inhale and feeling an acrid pleasure.

Good. Fuck him and his self-absorbed bullshit.

The silence at the end of the line made her feel better, and she settled into the couch with a mean laugh of her own. “Cat got your tongue, Maxwell?”

“I never should have said that to you,” he mumbled, feeling worthless. “You...I’m so sorry that I always made you feel like shit. I know how that feels, and I...I am so sorry that I ever made you feel that way. Can you ever forgive me?”

His throat felt tight, and he swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, gripping the phone tighter. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I promise that I’m trying to change, I’m...”

“Max,” Raile said as she screwed her eyes shut and mouthed a few choice words before continuing, “you’ll do anything?”

“Yes. Anything you want, whatever I can do to make it up to you.”

“Pick me up at 6:30,” she reiterated. I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Jeans are also acceptable,” Max chuckled over the phone. “I’m not going to yell at you for wearing jeans. Don’t worry about packing a bag, I’ve got a black card and money that I’d like to spend on someone other than me for a change.”

“Good, because you’re wearing jeans too,” she told him. “Jeans and a sweatshirt. No suits, no expensive shoes.”

Max was smirking at her gall, and he laughed aloud before answering her again.

“I’ll wear jeans and a sweatshirt,” he chuckled. “This one time.”

“I just want you to be comfortable while I murder you,” Raile smirked. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon, Princess Cole.”

6:30 arrived a lot faster than Raile had planned, but she was on the stoop in her Harley Quinn hoodie and jeans regardless. Her nerves were making her fidget with the rings on her hands as she waited, impatiently, for him to pull up.

A loud engine caught her attention and her eyes widened as she realized he was pulling up in an ocean-blue Ford truck. And there was a title belt in the front passenger seat that made her perk up immediately.

Max was a champion, an accomplishment that she knew he had been chasing for years, even before they graduated. He wanted to be a professional wrestler, and she was proud to see that his dreams had been realized.

“Raile!”, he called through the window, his smug grin in place. “Hop on in, baby, let’s go for a drive.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and slung her purse over her shoulder, blushing as she walked to the truck and he reached over to open the door.

“Does your mom know you’re leaving?”, he asked, taking her purse and setting it in the center console. “Or does she not want me in the house because she wants to kill me?”

“She knows I’m leaving, she even suggested I pack a bag just in case,” Raile huffed as she rolled her eyes.

“Did you?”, he asked with a smirk. “I know I told you not to.”

“I didn’t,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I decided to listen to you. Did I make a bad call? Should I grab one anyway?”

“Nah,” Max said as she shut the door and he put the truck in drive. “Anything you need this weekend, I got it. Don’t worry,” he smirked at her, causing an eyebrow to raise.

“Okay,” she nodded warily as she relaxed into the seat. “I trust you, Max. But I carry a knife at all times and I’m pretty decent at fighting, so don’t try any bullshit,” she joked.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he reassured her as he pulled out of the driveway, heading for the highway. “It’s going to take us about two days to get there, with breaks to sleep and all that shit. So, I figure we’ll switch driving shifts every six hours? Sleep at night so there’s less chance of crashing?”

“That’s fine with me,” she nodded, thankful that she’d prepped in advance by having extra cigarettes and some joints. “But can we eat first? I’m fucking starving.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he nodded. “And I’ll get us a hotel room later, two single beds. Don’t worry, this is strictly just…friends,” he flushed as she looked at him. “Just friends.”

“Well, thank you for clearing that up I suppose,” she shrugged as she leaned her seat back and relaxed. "Although I kind of figured that was the case, I wouldn't have come with you otherwise."

“I’m glad you did,” he said as he pulled into the drive thru of a Chik Fil A, ordering himself a couple orders of grilled nuggets with Polynesian sauce as well as the two grilled chicken club sandwiches Raile ordered for herself. When Raile moved to hand her card through the window he took it, setting it in the center console and shaking his head.

“I told you, I’ve got it covered. Whatever you want.”

“I can buy my dinner,” Raile protested, and he turned and stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Why won’t you let me buy you food?”, he asked petulantly, pouting heavily at her and making her roll her eyes.

“Okay, jeez. Fine, just stop looking at me like that,” she sighed playfully, taking her card back and putting it in her wallet as he passed his card to the drive thru worker, taking the bags from him when he set them in her lap. “But I’m buying gas and snacks at the next stop. Thank you,” she smiled, remembering to be polite at the last second.

“You’re not buying anything,” he reiterated, pulling into a parking spot and turning to face her. “I am buying everything on this excursion, and you are going to be the passenger princess when I’m in the driver’s seat, toots.”

Raile’s eyebrow raised again, and she slowly licked her lips and leaned in to grab his shirt.

“Don’t. Call. Me. Toots,” she growled threateningly, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “You want to kidnap me for longer than the next ten minutes? Fine. But I’m only doing this because you said you changed,” she reminded him, watching his eyes soften and shut tightly.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry, Raile. I didn’t mean that.”

Stupid fucking asshole, can’t you keep your shit together for five fucking minutes? Now she hates me and I’ll never get another chance, and I-

Wait, she’s talking to me still.

“Max,” Raile said again, lightly grabbing his chin and squeezing. “Maxwell!”

“Sorry!”, he blurted, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over him and pulling away from her as much as he could in the truck.

He didn’t look at her. He wouldn’t look at her, not until he could control the sudden feeling of tears that were choking him.

“Max, look at me,” she ordered gently, using her grip on his chin to turn him back to her. “Just stop, okay? Let me buy shit for you too, alright? I’m not someone you need to impress. Don’t you know that? Have I ever been impressed by you, to the point you need to pull this douchey bullshit on me?”, she asked him seriously, though she let go of his chin and lightly tapped his cheek. “Just take a deep breath, let go of the douche that you put up as a front, and be vulnerable with me. I want to be your friend, I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He considered telling her, just for a moment, about his RSD. Considered overexplaining himself and risking even more vulnerability. But then, he realized that doing so would only make her pity him. That was worse than however he felt at the moment, the potential of having her see him differently. Pity was the worst.

So he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and met her gaze steadily, letting her see the wetness of his eyes but hesitantly smiling.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said as he cleared his throat, wiping his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a quiet laugh. “I’ve got some hangups. I’m alright though, I’m fine. We should drive if we’re gonna do anything,” he said, looking at her with a real smile. “I’m sorry. Let’s have fun? I’ll…I don’t have to impress you,” he told her, though she knew he was more so telling himself. “You’re my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” she nodded, giving him a smile in return and plugging her phone into his charger. “And as your friend, I’m going to steal your speakers for some of this trip.”

“Go for it,” Max chuckled as he pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the road, now completely focused on getting to Long Island.

Raile plugged in her phone and opened her Spotify playlist, not realizing that the last song she played hadn’t fully finished. The title of the song showed on the truck display, but she was faster than Max, who wasn’t wearing his glasses.

However, his truck speakers were designed to tell him what was playing, and revealed the song’s title was about addiction.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said quickly, finding a more suitable song in Tiny Dancer and sitting back in her seat. She opened a sandwich and quickly bit into it, using the distraction to eliminate the possibility of answering questions.

But Max wasn’t going to let it go, turning the radio down and keeping his eyes on the road as he talked.

“Whatever you can relate to in that song…I hope you’re okay now,” he started. “I hope that you’re well, and…you don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me.”

He saw her shift slightly as he reached down to shift gears, saw her fingers clench lightly around her sandwich as she looked out the window and never said a word. And the silence hung thick between them, like a fog that threatened to choke him as he stopped talking and focused on driving.

If Raile didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to either.

As the next song ended, Raile reached over and turned it back, increasing the volume and singing along to the haunting vocals of the song that she’d previously skipped.

It was a song that, to her, represented her struggle with addiction perfectly. And though it was hard to verbalize, the song’s lyrics made it easier for others to understand.

When Raile spoke, it was quiet and almost unheard.

“You know I was a foster kid,” she said almost matter of factly, and it surprised her that Max actually nodded in remembrance. She was struck by the way his hands wrapped around the wheel, almost as if he were gripping it tightly in anticipation of hearing the worst shit that ever happened to her.

When he nodded again, she continued.

“They just wanted to make money off of me,” she told him, her eyes focusing on the display screen in the truck. “Without actually taking care of me at all. When they weren’t beating me, they locked me in a shed full of spiders so they didn’t have to feed me. And when that got boring, my foster dad and his son would come visit me. Those were the worst times,” she revealed, and her voice carried through the small enclosed space despite the way her bottom lip trembled. “When I was adopted, I was finally safe to deal and process everything that I’d gone through, and I couldn’t cope with it. I started doing cocaine, and when I almost killed myself my parents forced me into rehab. I was sixteen.”

“You missed the end of sophomore year and the beginning of junior year,” he frowned, remembering. “You left in April, came back in January, and you looked… I knew you looked different.”

“Rehab,” she shrugged, picking her nails as if it didn’t affect her, though inside she was wondering why exactly she’d opened up to him that much. “I got sober, and then I was fine. I still am,” she reassured him, glancing at him and gently reaching over to rest her hand on one of his. “Stop strangling the wheel, would you? I promise, I’m fine.”

Max let one hand remain on the wheel, and the other turned to wrap around her fingers gently.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he muttered, almost angrily. “What happened after? To the people that did that to you? Did they end up in prison?”

“Yeah, they did,” she nodded as she allowed herself to hold his hand. “They’re in prison now, and I’m better, so much better. You don’t need to worry, okay? Although I don’t really know why you would be worried.”

“Because you didn’t deserve to be abused and develop a drug addiction? Am I really so horrible that you think I wouldn’t be upset about that?”, he asked her flatly, and she swallowed thickly and avoided his eyes. “Jesus, Raile, I’m not a fucking monster. I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of, but I’m not a monster. Only a heartless asshole wouldn’t be upset about that.”

He was right, although she resisted the urge to point out that up until that very moment, he’d been a heartless asshole. How was she supposed to know?

“I’m…sorry,” she finally said, feeling as though it was a hollow and stupid apology. “This is why I don’t talk about it, because I’m so fucking sick of making people upset. I’d rather make them pissed off about things that aren’t actually all that important,” she joked, pulling her hand away to her lap again.

“My fiance left me,” Max revealed, fidgeting slightly. Only the nervous tapping of his fingers and the subtle tic of his jaw showed how upset he still was over it. “It was devastating, and the only thing that kept me going was the AEW title. Everything else just felt unnecessary. She was my dream girl, or at least I thought she was. But she was just the next in a long line of people who said they loved me and ended up leaving. I wanted everything with her, and she left me. She left me because I’m unlovable, and now the only thing I have in this world that makes me feel unconditional love is the title you moved to the back seat.”

Almost as if on cue, the song changed. Now it was one of her favorite 90s songs, and Raile almost laughed at how cliche and movie-worthy the moment was.

But she didn’t. Instead, she chewed her lip ring, using the stoplight as a chance to look over at him while he could pay attention to her.

“She wasn’t the love of your life,” she told Max boldly, admitting to both of them the thing that she’d been hiding ever since her tender high school years. “Not if she’d leave you when you were struggling. Even when I hated you, I would have stayed if you needed me.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” he scoffed quietly. “I was incredibly cruel to you, especially during Homecoming. I don’t even know why I did it, Raile,” he admitted. “I don’t remember why I did that to you. I slut shamed you and ruined your night, and for no apparent reason. I deserved to get punched in the jaw.”

“I was in love with you.”

He stalled, glancing at her for just too long as the light turned green and cars blared their horns behind him. Max jumped, stuck his middle finger out the window, and Raile laughed as she did the same while they pulled away and kept driving.

When he’d recovered, he relaxed more in his seat and licked his lips.

“You were in love with me?”, he repeated, as if unsure of what he’d just heard. “How come you never said anything?”

“After what happened at Homecoming? You think I was just going to confess my soul to you?”, she asked him, and he dipped his head slightly to acknowledge her point.

“I…I wouldn’t have done that to you. Not after what happened with us before. I wouldn’t have humiliated you again,” he tried to protest, but he knew it was hollow as she stared at him, her eyes narrowed and beginning to water.

“How was I supposed to know that?”, she asked, and he stayed silent instead of answering her.

After a moment he replied, the hard set of his jaw prominent in the setting sun.

“You weren’t. You couldn’t have, and I know that’s my fault. Thank you, for admitting that you were in love with me during the worst thing I ever did in my life. That makes me feel so much better about it,” he sneered, and she rolled her eyes and threw her hands up.

“You’re fucking hopeless, Max. I’m trying to open up to you here and all you keep doing is rehashing shit that upsets both of us. Pull over and let me out,” she said, grabbing her purse and her phone. “I’ll call my mom.”

“You really want me to pull over on the highway and kick you out of my truck?”, he asked, calling her bluff and pulling to the side of the highway, flicking his hazards on. “Get out then.”

Raile opened the door and carefully jumped out of the truck, slamming the door shut and starting to jog away from him. She heard him honk behind her but kept going, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible.

“For fuck’s sake,” he snarled, pulling up beside her and slowing down to keep pace. “Raile, please. Why do we have to argue? I don’t want to argue,” he called through the window. “Look, just get in the truck, smoke a blunt and finish eating. We’ll only drive for a few more hours, then we can find a motel and avoid each other for the rest of the night. Please? Just get in the truck?”

“No,” she snapped back at him angrily. “Not until you prove to me that you’re gonna stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself, because you’re not sexy when you fucking mope!”

He stopped short, letting out a chuckle that developed into a full blown laugh. That quick wit was still inside her, the fire that had always burned bright between them back then.

Max suddenly realized that he liked that about her.

Fuck.

“You’re right,” he told her placatingly, pulling the truck to a stop and opening the passenger door. “I’ll stop, I promise. I don’t want to ruin this trip, so I’ll quit being a mopey dickhead. Please just get in the truck. I really just want to have a good time, and I’ve wanted to kiss you since I picked you up, and I’m feeling ashamed and stupid because you’re mad at me. I keep fucking it up,’ he told her, taking responsibility for the fight and pleading her with his eyes. “Please get in the truck.”

“You promise you’ll stop?”, she asked him, walking over and touching the door handle as she looked up at him. When he nodded and offered her a hand, she took it and allowed him to pull her up into the truck. She shut the door and buckled back into her seat, connecting her phone to the speaker again and skipping ahead a few songs.

When an even older song came on, by Tom Petty, she turned it up and pulled out a joint. Then, she rolled the window down, slid her sneakers off and put her feet on the dashboard as she lit the joint and inhaled deeply.

Tipping her head back to exhale, she looked over at Max with a smile and a coughing laugh.

“Don’t worry, handsome, I kept it a secret for both our sakes. You don’t have to do anything about it, I just thought you should know I had a crush on you back then,” she shrugged. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He allowed himself to chuckle, falling back on the safety net of his gimmick and a seat-selling smile.

“If you’re looking to make a deal with the devil, baby, I hope you think really hard about what you want in return,” he warned her playfully. He was rewarded with a flush that made her pull her hood over her eyes and got him to laugh.

“Why so red, huh? I’m just messing with you, I promise,” he told her, reaching over to grab her knee, and she gasped harder and fixed her hood, taking another hit.

“Dude, I’m gonna drop it if you keep doing that,” she protested. “I’m ticklish there.”

“Oh are you?”, he teased, doing it again. “Good to know. I’ll keep that for future use.”

“Stop,” she half-laughed, moving her knee and breathing in relief when he put his hand back on the wheel. “If you find a hotel or something we can share this.”

“You’d share with me?”, he gasped as if shocked, immediately pulling onto the off ramp that proclaimed there was a Marriott at the next exit and looking at her with a grin.

“No take backs.”

“No take backs,” she grinned back at him helplessly, seeing the way his eyes sparkled and feeling her heart skip a beat. That was exactly what she’d fallen so head over heels for in the first place, the genuine bright smile that she rarely saw. “I’ll share this with you as long as they don’t care.”

“I’ll pay damages if I have to,” he told her with a wave of his hand. “I’m not worried about it. I’d rather smoke now and pay later.”

“That’s sound logic, I guess,” she laughed. “So we’ll smoke. It’s only a quarter past seven, and I need to check in with my mom. We’ll get a room and relax for the rest of the night,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Tell your mom we’re at the JW Anaheim Marriott,” he told her, pulling into the parking lot when they got close enough and parking. “I’ll go get us a room with two single beds.”

He walked in and told the concierge his name, asking for two single beds. When she offered him the presidential suite he took it, even when she mentioned that it only had one California King bed.

“My guest and I will be fine,” he reassured her, smiling at her and watching as the woman flushed. Once he had the keys, he made his way back out to the truck, opening the door for Raile.

By this time, Raile had already called Janice and sprayed herself to get rid of the smell. She was still on the phone when he came back out.

“Mom, it’s not like that. We’re just friends, going to the reunion. You wanted me to go,” she pointed out. “You never said it outright, but you wanted me to go. Otherwise you wouldn’t have given Max my number.”

“You’re right, Raile. I’m tired of you moping around that pool house and doing nothing good for yourself, so I gave Max your number and told him to come get you. I know you can take care of yourself,” Janice told her daughter. “I want you to have fun, sweet girl, you’ve lost too much time to your issues. I want you to be happy.”

“I told him I had a crush on him back then,” she revealed to her mother, who gasped on the other end just as Max opened the door and scared the shit out of Raile. Her yelp quickly devolved into a cough, and she gave him the finger with a narrow eyed smirk. “And he said we should get a hotel and get stoned.”

“I know that suits you just fine,” Janice teased playfully. “Go on and have fun, honey. Thank you for calling to check in, and please tell Max that I’m the parent he should be scared of.”

“I will,” Raile giggled to herself. “I’m gonna go now, I’ll call you after I eat breakfast tomorrow.”

“Okay honey. Goodnight, we love you.”

“I love you too, Momma,” Raile smiled softly, ending the call and looking at Max. “So, did you get the room situated?”

“I did, I got us a presidential suite with a wonderful giant bed,” he said with a grin, hoping to slip that past her.

“Only one bed?”, she replied with a raised eyebrow, smirking when he flushed and looked away from her.

“Apparently everyone in the fucking county decided to stay here tonight,” he muttered. “So, we got the presidential suite. It only has one big bed. I’ll make a wall of pillows or something,” he offered. “Or sleep on the couch.”

“Well if you’re paying for the room it would be rude of me to take the whole bed by myself,” she pointed out. “So we’ll sleep back to back or something. We’re grown adults, for fuck’s sake, and I’m not kicking you out of your bed. You’ll just have to get over yourself,” she told him, and he laughed.

“Well alright then. I’ll get over myself,” he chuckled. “I’m ready to get high anyway, so I really don’t give a shit about the bed situation. Can we go inside now?”

“Yes,” she grinned back at him as she slipped her shoes on, playfully reaching a hand out as if she were a queen and feeling a thrill shoot down her spine as he took it with an overly exaggerated bow after he put the title on his shoulder. It made her stomach flip as she reached back to grab the bag of food before letting him help her climb down, allowing him to lead her through the doors to the elevator.

Her hood was on but people still recognized Max. They swarmed him the moment the doors opened and if he hadn’t been gripping her hand to pull her in closer then the crowd would have separated them. But Max was holding her tightly, even when he let go to physically wrap his arm around her while steering her toward the elevator. She glanced up at him under the hoodie and noticed that his jaw was set tight again, and he was exuding a stony silence as he took the open elevator and repeatedly jabbed the ‘close door’ button.

When the crowd got cut off by the doors finally sliding shut, she leaned into his hold.

“Is it going to be like this everywhere?”, she asked him with a laugh. “They’re obsessed with you. You're the champion and your adoring public are just showing their appreciation? Do you get this all the time?“

“Of course I do,” he smirked down at her, his fingers tightening briefly on her hip before letting go again. “I’m the best of all time, baby. I’m the top talent in one of the best wrestling companies in the world. My devil worshippers love me.”

“Devil worshippers?”, she snickered. “Is that what you call them?”

“That’s what they named themselves,” he shrugged as they climbed higher and higher until they reached the presidential suite on the 12th floor. “I just showed up in a mask as a reference to a guy that I felt abandoned me."

"You'll have to show me," she told him as he swept her off the elevator jokingly, opening the presidential suite doors.

"We'll watch my greatest hits," he teased back, setting his travel bag on the floor. "I'm going to take a shower, I'll leave my card on the table. If you need anything, feel free to use it.”

“You know I have my own card, right?”, she teased him, flopping back on the bed and stretching out. It was a luxurious mattress, and it felt as though she were sinking into a cloud as she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

This was a nice bed, and she could feel all of the muscles in her body relax at once as she allowed herself to de-stress with another deep sigh.

She’d never felt so relaxed in her life, but her body was screaming at her that she needed to use the bathroom.

And the fact that the water was running let her know that Max had already started the shower, so now she was going to make it awkward by walking in there and using the bathroom.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged, rolling out of the bed and walking over to the bathroom. When she heard him start to sing to himself, she giggled quietly and opened the door.

“Hey, I have to pee. Mind if I come in?”, she called over the running water, and he opened the shower door just enough to be heard.

“Don’t stare at my dick,” he joked, going back to his shower and ignoring the fact that she was there.

She finished and made to leave the bathroom, but the little devil on her shoulder was fully awake and ready to cause mischief.

Just take a peek. He’ll never know.

When she turned, Raile allowed her eyes to drop to the lower part of the steamy glass door in hopes to just take a glance, only to jump when he snapped his fingers and not even getting to look properly.

“My eyes are up here, Raile,” he laughed as he shut the water off and opened the door. “You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are. Can you hand me a towel?”

The scarlet that painted her cheeks made Max’s heart race as she grabbed the towel for him, handing it over and averting her eyes from his.

“Here. Sorry,” she squeaked out, clearing her throat and steadfastly locking her gaze on his face. “I uh…it was an accident.”

“No it wasn’t,” he chuckled, wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out of the tub. “It was you trying to catch a glimpse of the Maximum Ride. Nothing to be ashamed of, I wear tight trunks for a reason,” he leered.

“You need to cool off,” she teased as she filled up one of the cups with cold water, throwing it at him and running out of the bathroom as he sputtered in shock.

“Raile!”, he yelled, storming out of the bathroom to find the hotel room empty, no sign of the blonde anywhere.

But Max wasn’t as stupid as Raile seemed to think he was, and he slowly walked over to his bag to grab his clothes while scanning the room for her.

If he was smart about it, he’d find her eventually. But if he were even smarter about it, he’d make her come to him.

So that’s what he did. He focused on pulling his pants on, then his shirt, before sitting on the bed to towel dry his hair while he waited.

And when he saw her peek out from under the bed, he reached down to grab her hand and pulled her out.

“Very funny,” he huffed at her, glaring daggers at her embarrassed grin.

“You caught me,” she blushed as she climbed onto the bed, keeping away from him in case he decided to come after her. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“I was considering dumping you in a cold bathtub,” he smirked dangerously, throwing the towel at her. “I might still do that, because that was mean of you. But I just want to finish my dinner, so you’re safe. For now,” he replied with a shark-toothed grin. “Later, I’ll remember this.”

“What are you going to do? Spank me?”, she shot back, throwing the towel back at him and smirking. “Is that what you’re into, Maxwell, when you’ve got a woman all by herself in your presidential suite?”

Max’s cheeks warmed slightly, but he laughed off her question and grabbed his food, shaking his head.

“Are you flirting with me, Raile Cole?”, he asked, turning the tables on her. “You want me to spank you? Throw you over my lap maybe?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she choked after he flustered her, her cheeks darkening as he focused on his meal. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m stronger than you.”

“Princess, I’m a professional wrestler,” he snorted. “I’m the peak physical athlete in one of the top companies in the world. I could take you with one hand behind my back. But I’m hungry, so I’m going to eat my chicken and you’re going to sit there looking pretty and eating your sandwich, and then I’ll deal with you. Got it?”

“But it was just a joke,” she pouted, batting her eyelashes at him even though he clearly wasn’t buying it. “I was just having fun, you can’t be mad at me for that. I just wanted to have fun.”

“Do you really think you’re cute like that?”, Max asked as he ate one of his nuggets. “You’re adorable, really, but not adorable enough to avoid a spanking from Daddy.”

“Daddy? Is that what you call yourself?”, she giggled, stretching out across his lap on her back. “Do you really think you’re actually Daddy material, Friedman?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out together, huh?”, he flirted, looking down at her with smoldering brown eyes while he ate. “You know if you don’t get out of my lap I’m just going to stare at you like this.”

“You’re so weird!”, she whined up at him while her face burned red. “Why did I agree to this? I never should have let you kidnap me.”

“It’s not kidnap if your mom knows where you are,” he pointed out teasingly. “She knows what hotel you’re in, and you have your phone. I am simply spending time with you, giving you a free ride to a reunion across the country and only asking for your company in return. That’s not kidnap, that’s…that’s me being nice, honestly,” he shrugged, smirking at her. “Again, I will keep staring at you if you don’t want to get out of my lap.”

“Oh come on, I’m comfortable,” Raile grumbled as she tried to avoid having to move. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed and rolled out of his lap to stretch out next to him.

“You’re such a dick, do you know that? Do you know you’re a dick?”

“I do, but I also know that you’ve had a massive crush on me for years and years, so clearly that doesn’t bother you as much as you’re saying it does,” he grinned smugly. “Because if it really bothered you, you’d have left by now.”

“Fuck, you have a point,” she chuckled, looking up at him before she rolled on her side. “Do you want to smoke a joint with me? Will you, Maxwell Friedman, smoke a joint with me?”, she asked solemnly, though the grin cracked through a few times. “Please?”

Max rolled his eyes and gave her a put-upon sigh, rolling onto his side and looking at her.

“Fine, I’ll smoke a joint with you,” he told her. “But only if we play a game. Strip blackjack, perhaps? Make it interesting? You already glanced at my dick, it seems only fair.” he leered playfully. “Did you like what you saw?”

“I will neither confirm or deny,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Do you even have cards to play blackjack?”

“I can definitely get some,” he told her. “All I have to do is text an assistant, or go down to the concierge. Even a casino would probably give us a deck.”

“There’s a casino near here?”, she asked him excitedly. “Can we go? I’d rather play real blackjack.”

“I don’t think they’ll let us check out just to switch hotels,” he pointed out as he reached over to move some of her bangs out of her face. “Do you have a deck of cards in your purse?”

“Why the fuck would I have cards in my purse?”, she laughed even as she grabbed her bag and pulled out a deck of cards. “I mean I do have cards in my purse, but it’s scary that you knew that.”

“You kept a deck of cards on you in high school so that you could challenge people to poker at lunchtime,” he shrugged, taking the cards from her and shuffling them. “I remember some things about you, Raile. I was paying attention to you too.”

He dealt them both two cards each, and the game progressed until it was Max with most of the cards. Every time Raile went bust, she took off an article of clothing until she was left sitting in nothing but her bra and panties.

“I’d say I won that round,” Max grinned at her as he sat cross–legged, still wearing his pajama bottoms. “That’s a hot outfit, by the way, I love the color red on you. Did you pick that out for me? You know my favorite colors are red and blue, don’t you? You do that on purpose?”

“It was an accident, but a happy one,” she shrugged, though she was ducking her head to hide the flush in her cheeks as she passed him the joint and he took a hit. The blend was smooth, and he didn’t even cough when he exhaled and passed it back to her. “I like red too, I think it looks great on me.”

“I think it would look better on the floor with me between your legs,” he smirked at her as she took another hit. “I know you’d taste like fucking heaven. And flan.”

“Flan?”, she snickered as she exhaled, stealing another hit and passing it back. “Is flan like your favorite dessert or something? Also, don’t you have like a thousand girls in this city you could be sleeping with? Why are you hitting on me?”

“If I had girls in this city that I wanted to sleep with instead of you, you definitely wouldn’t be here right now. You would still be at home and I’d be here banging some rat that I allowed to come with me,” he chuckled, taking another hit and pausing for a few moments before he exhaled again. “But I’m not trying to sleep with you right now. Maybe later at some point in time, but not right now. I genuinely, truly just want your company."

Hearing him say that out loud made her realize that this wasn’t just about having someone to take to the reunion. This wasn’t a date for him, it was a real attempt at trying to prove that he had indeed changed, and she was just taking him at face value without attempting to figure out if he was being real or not.

That was her fatal flaw, and she took the joint back and took one last hit as she moved close, exhaling the smoke inches from his lips and watching his eyes darken considerably.

The sudden intensity in his gaze caused a violent swooping sensation in her stomach that made her feel like a rabbit, caught in the eyes of a wolf or a lion. But it also turned her on way too much for her own good, and she gulped audibly.

“What do you want me to do?”

He took the joint back from her and moved to sit up against the headboard, looking her up and down carelessly as she climbed off the bed and stood at the end of it, chewing her lip.

“You still owe me for the cold water,” he smirked darkly. “But if you dance for Daddy, I won’t spank you until your ass turns red. All you gotta do is make it real hot for me, Princess, alright? Fucking dazzle me, make my cock hard,” he purred as she fumbled to put music on, face getting redder with every word out of his mouth.

“You’re the fucking worst, please stop talking,” she begged as Mary Jane’s Last Dance started to play on her phone and the timing was all messed up. “Damn it! Start that over and shut the fuck up if you want me to dance so fuckin’ bad!”

He snorted and started the music over, waiting for her to get ready and raising an eyebrow at her as she nodded for him to hit play.

And his jaw dropped as Princess Cole moved her hips, undoing the front of her bra and slowly sliding it down her shoulders while her body swayed and thrusted to the music.

Max watched as she seemed to turn off her thoughts and self consciousness, eyes closed as she focused on the timing of the music and the movements of her body.

But when she opened one eye and tossed the bra at him, he could see the playfulness in her attitude and knew that she was having fun.

And he was definitely having fun watching her.

When she turned and slid her panties down, bending over in front of him and slowly pulling them down her legs, he let out an incredibly loud growl that would have embarrassed him if he gave a shit about anything but cumming.

“Jesus Christ, Raile,” he groaned, pulling his cock out of his pants and shamelessly stroking it in front of her. “You’re an incredible dancer, do you know how much money you’d make as a stripper?”

“I like dancing for free,” she joked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder before she turned all the way back to him and slowly sank to her knees to do floorwork. “I’ve been practicing since graduation. Do you think I dance well?”

She watched him stroke himself as he watched her, and when she came back up to her feet she turned, bending backwards to look at him and shamelessly opening her mouth to stick her tongue out at him.

“Like what you see, Princess?”, he smirked at her as he stopped, pulling his hand away to let her see the full length of his cock. “A lot of women do, you know. I wouldn’t blame you if you like it.”

“Fuck,” she breathed while climbing onto the bed, straddling his hips and tucking him back into his pants as she circled her hips above him. “I don’t want the whole thing yet, Max. I like a slow tease, you know?”

She continued to grind against him, feeling just how hard he was under her. and pinning his hands above his head as he tried to touch her.

“No touching the dancers,” she purred, seeing the dark desire in his eyes skyrocket as his fingers locked around hers and he allowed her to hold him in place. “Touching is against the rules here.”

“I bought the room,” he protested, licking his lips as he rocked his hips upward against her and she moaned loudly. “I want to touch you, Princess.”

“Not yet,” she panted, rocking down harder against him and feeling her core throb with want. “I don’t want to ruin the moment yet, baby.”

“Raile, just let me taste you,” he bargained with her while loosely pushing against her restraining hands. “Please, I won’t do anything else. Just let me taste you. I’ll behave.”

“You don’t know how to behave,” she giggled as she tightened her grip and leaned forward, allowing him to catch one of her nipples between his teeth. When he bit down and tugged it, ever so lightly, she moaned louder.

“Fuck, Max, don’t stop. Don’t…fuck,” she whimpered, and he looked up at her to watch as he did it again.

Her face was flushed red, chest heaving under his mouth, but her eyes were closed tightly. Almost as if by keeping them shut she was hiding herself from him.

And for Max, that wouldn’t do at all.

“Open your eyes,” he growled against her skin, watching as her green eyes flew open and locked on him immediately. They were wide and apprehensive, and he tugged harder on her nipple with a playful wink.

“Better,” he purred, swirling his tongue around the hard peak and feeling her shiver as he pulled away to do the same to the other. “You have such pretty eyes, baby. Don’t hide from me.”

“Max,” she choked out uneasily, feeling too exposed and vulnerable for her own peace of mind. “I can’t keep my eyes open, I…it’s too much.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, and she let go of his hands and let him roll her onto her back as her eyes closed again. “I’ll take care of you, baby, I’ve got you. Just take a deep breath and relax,” he soothed, brushing his lips against hers and feeling victorious when she shuddered and allowed him to slip his tongue into her mouth.

She tasted like pot and he found himself getting dizzy, as if the flavor itself was getting him stoned all over again. Underneath that was a sharp, tangy flavor that reminded him of sour candy; blue raspberry or sour cherry, or something like that.

When his head started to spin, he pulled back to give them both a chance to breathe, watching as she licked her lips and opened her eyes to look at him.

“That was…really nice,” she said with a blush at how lame she sounded. “I enjoyed that quite a lot, actually. Can we do it again?”

He chuckled and kissed her again, feeling her respond and sliding his hands down to her hips to hold onto them. She was kissing him back in earnest now, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip as if, like everything else in their lives, this moment wasn’t complete without a little bit of pain and blood.

But he didn’t mind at all, if that’s what it took to make her happy. As long as she wanted to kiss him back he’d let her sink her teeth into any part of him she chose.

“Fuck, Raile,” he panted as her head fell back against the pillows and she let out a shaky exhale. “You taste like Halloween, and weed.”

“Do you like how I taste?”, she purred, smirking up at him impishly. He smirked back and kissed her a third time, trailing the kiss down over her jawline.

Raile’s head was spinning faster than it ever had with all of Max’s intoxicating kisses, down her jawline and her throat until it stopped at her belly button and her body tensed sharply.

And as Max's tongue trailed from her navel, upward between her breasts and into the hollow of her throat, over the defined contour of her collarbone, Raile's entire definition of euphoria was shattered. It was then subsequently changed and rebuilt under the sharpness of Max's teeth, which bit gently at her collarbone and all the way back down until he reached his goal: the soft, wet heat that rested between her splayed thighs.

He looked up at her from between her legs and she saw exactly what he wanted: to make her come undone completely.

She was already halfway there, chest heaving and thighs shaking with the effort of trying to keep control over herself. But he wanted all of it, and she wanted more than anything to give in.

“Please,” he groaned quietly, harder than he’d ever been in his life as he looked up at her. “May I taste you? Please let me taste you, Princess.”

“How bad do you want it?”she asked with a wicked grin, feeling suddenly bold at the way he looked at her like he wanted to eat her whole. “What will you do for it?”

“Anything you want, babydoll,” he pleaded with her, kissing her inner thigh softly. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it happily. Just let me taste you?”, he begged, his eyes never leaving hers. “Please.”

“Anything?”

“Yes,” he growled, nipping at her inner thigh and glaring up at her without any real heat. “But only if you stop fucking teasing me.”

“Aw, are you getting mad?”, she smirked, and he narrowed his eyes and nipped her again, causing her to gasp. “Hey!”

“I hate being patient,” he smirked back at her, tongue tracing over the small red mark on her skin. “Yes or no, baby?”

“Yes, obviously I want you to-oh fuck!”, she yelped as he tugged her flush against him and trailed his tongue over her flesh, ending at her clit which he sucked into his mouth while he pinned her hips against the bed. “Oh God, Max!”

He pulled away just briefly, looking up at her with a dark grin as he licked his lips.

“No, Princess, I’m the devil,” he purred in response. “God’s got nothing to do with what’s happening to you right now. You belong to me.”

Her chest was heaving and all she could hear was her blood pounding in her ears. Her nerves were shot, and all she could feel was the way that her core throbbed every time her heart pounded.

“Max,” she choked out around the dryness in her mouth while reaching for him. “Don’t stop, you’re too fucking good at this and it’s been ages since anyone’s made me feel like this.”

“Poor thing,” he cooed at her, lowering his head and making her arch off the bed as he slid his tongue deep into her again.

He could feel her trembling under him, and he moaned loudly at the taste of her; sweet on his tongue like a dessert that could only be eaten with slow and determined licks.

Like flan, he thought to himself with a mental grin. The irony was funnier than he thought it would be, but he couldn’t exactly laugh while he was face deep in the woman of his dreams.

He felt her wind her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a way that made him feel soothed when nothing else had. As her fingers tugged roughly on his curls he groaned into her skin and his cock twitched as she stopped, seemingly hesitant, before pulling hard enough to make him moan her name and rock against the bed.

“Keep doing that,” he ordered with a little more of a whine in his voice than he planned. “I love that.”

“Okay,” she nodded breathlessly as she watched him seemingly melt under her fingers. She pulled slowly, methodically while he kept going, both of them getting closer to the peak before cumming together.

Max’s eyes shut tight, just in time to see stars explode behind his eyelids as he came all over the edge of the bed and felt Raile cum in his mouth.

He didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. He didn’t care either way as he swallowed the thick sweetness on his tongue and prayed for more.

Raile’s mind melted in her skull and traveled all the way through her body, where it came out of her pussy and dripped onto Max’s waiting tongue.

She felt dizzy, and halfway blacked out at the combination of pleasure and weed that was in her system. But then, Max sank his teeth deep into her thigh to remind her that he was there with her, between her legs where reality took place and where he’d just given her the best orgasm of her life. It got her to scream his name and look down at him with a minute amount of attentiveness.

Her blood was on his lips, and he was staring at her in a way that made something claw at the back of her skull violently. A primal urge that was engraved deep in her bones; that had been dormant nearly her entire life.

“Kiss me,” she breathed out shakily and he surged forward, pinning her to the bed with his hands tight on her hips as he kissed her like he’d never kissed anyone in his life.

She moaned as he forced his tongue deep into her mouth, the cocktail of blood, cum and spit swirling between the two of them as each one refused to break the moment.

Max felt his throat burning from lack of oxygen and reluctantly pulled away to breathe. His eyes met hers and he licked his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he looked down at her thigh and saw the bloody bite mark he’d left there.

“Did I hurt you?”, he asked her gently, looking at her face and swallowing heavily. “You didn’t say anything. I’m sorry, I got caught up in the moment and-”

“Shut up,” she panted, sitting up and using the ruined sheets to try and dab the excess blood away while giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Max, you didn’t hurt me. Honestly it was incredibly hot and you’re welcome to do it again. I really liked it,” she admitted with a flush, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Feel free to do it again sometime, Daddy.”

He chuckled and tucked himself back into his pants before kissing her, heading for the bathroom to grab a first aid kit.

“So it just looks worse than it is?”, he joked with her, coming out and opening the kit. “Maybe don’t wear short shorts for a while, huh Princess? Although I won’t say no to you flashing my bite mark at our former high school classmates. It could be incredibly sexy.”

“Absolutely not,” Raile laughed as she watched him pour antiseptic on a gauze pad and gently wipe the excess blood away, cleaning the wound carefully. “That’s our secret. They don’t need to know who gave me the best head I’ve ever had.”

Max nearly dropped the kit out of embarrassment, but caught it at the last second and put a large cloth bandage on her inner thigh.

“It wasn’t only my pleasure, it was my honor,” he chuckled, reaching into his bag and grabbing a pair of lounge pants to hand to her. “Here. My assistant shrunk these, I can’t wear them anymore. You can have them, to cover your…you know.”

“Thank you,” she blushed, pulling the pants on and tying them tight around her waist while he put the kit back in the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

She was still slightly intoxicated, and she stole his shirt and slipped it over her head before following him into the bathroom to wrap her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back.

“I’ve never been taken care of like this after,” she admitted softly while watching him do his nightly routine, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and feeling slightly out of place. “Then again, I don’t usually stick around after so I suppose that’s my fault.”

“Are you going to stick around?”, he asked after spitting the toothpaste out and rinsing his mouth. “Or should I call you a cab and we say our goodbyes now?”

He half expected her to leave since both of them had gotten what they wanted. He didn’t think she’d stick around to actually go to the reunion with him no matter how much he wanted her to.

“I know I said I wanted a date to the reunion and all but it’s okay if you want to-mmph!”, he cried out as he turned and she kissed him forcefully. She was kneeling on the toilet lid to get eye level with him, hands gripping the waistband of his pants and dragging him closer to her.

He kissed her back deeply, grabbing her ass and lifting her up to set her on the counter as they made out.

Raile quite enjoyed the flavor of his toothpaste. It was a fruity flavor, with hints of orange and a slightly cinnamon aftertaste. He tasted a lot better without her blood in his mouth.

The edge of the counter dug into her thighs a bit but it wasn’t even near the list of things that currently mattered to her.

Max’s tongue. His lips. His fingers clenching on her ass and the feeling of his warm skin under her fingertips as she held onto his shoulders and kissed him back with an intensity that anyone else might have called ‘overkill’.

Max wasn’t just anyone else though, so she knew he could appreciate her efforts and return them tenfold.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she purred into his mouth while she swiped her tongue across his bottom lip, getting rid of the toothpaste staining it before she nibbled it lightly. “I want to stay here with you, and go to the reunion, and fuck endlessly everytime we take a break from driving. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, as long as I’m the girl you think of when you come to Cali.”

“Well, when you put it like that it seems like I should really keep you on speed dial,” he joked, gently cupping her cheeks and kissing her forehead. “You’re adorable, Princess. I would be happy to call you the next time I’m in town. But for right now, I’d really just like to hold you and pass the hell out.”

He lifted her off of the counter and carried her to the bed again, laying her down on the mattress. He laid down next to her and wrapped her arms around her while pulling her close.

“You’re driving tomorrow morning,” he yawned as they both closed their eyes. “I want coffee.”

“Okay,” Raile whispered back as she hid her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist as she sank into the warmth of his body and fell asleep.

It was the first time she’d felt comfortable sleeping next to anyone, but with Max she felt completely protected. She normally slept alone, and was prone to waking up in the middle of the night out of fear that the memories she was reliving were real, but the way he held her close kept her night terrors at bay, and she slept through the night without fear.

And just as the sun bathed their suite in its soft, golden light, she cracked her eyes open, rolled over, and studied Max’s sleeping face silently. Her eyes tracked the way the light crept over his forehead, then his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, before it swept down over his mouth and chest, his shoulders, even the sheets they were wrapped in. It made all the lighter strands of hair stand out, framing him in a soft, warm halo and making her heart beat just a little faster.

Max felt someone staring at him, and he cracked one sleeping eye open to see the blonde flush as he caught her.

“Morning, baby,” he yawned as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead gently. “You sleep okay? How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” Raile reassured him as she tilted her head up to rub their noses together. “Only about five minutes. I slept wonderfully, thank you,” she smiled at him. “We should check out and get back on the road, or at least get something to eat.”

“We really should,” he nodded as he made no move to get up. “I’m starving. And I need a coffee.”

“So then you have to get up,” she giggled quietly, reaching over to brush a curl out of his eyes and cupping his warm stubbled cheek in her palm. “We can’t lay here all day, Max. Not if you want to actually go to the reunion.”

“And what if I don’t want to go anymore?”, he asked sleepily, pulling her down on top of him and nuzzling his face into her neck. “We could skip it and just drive until we run out of gas. Just spend time together without worrying about anyone else.”

That did sound appealing now that he said it, and she chewed her lip ring and ran her fingers through his hair.

“What if we just went somewhere else? Back to Long Island for a few days?”, she offered. “You could take me to meet your parents.”

“No,” he said as he pulled away and looked into her eyes. “I don’t want to go home, I’ll take you anywhere else but there.”

“Why?”, she asked him curiously as her chest suddenly felt like it was caving in. “You don’t want me to meet them?”

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head before he realized how shitty he sounded and reached up to cup her face with his hands. “I don’t want to take you home. My mother, she’s…she’s a bitch to every girl I bring home. Even the one I was supposed to marry wasn’t good enough for her. I wouldn’t put you through that,” he said firmly. “You deserve better than for that old hag to pick you apart to your face.”

“So it’s not about me, but her reaction to me,” she nodded, wanting to make sure she had it right. “I’m not…you’re not afraid to be seen with me or something.”

“A smoking hot babe like you? Absolutely not,” he purred, kissing her deeply. “You’re a smokeshow and I’m incredibly lucky to be here with you right now. There’s nothing wrong with you, Raile, and I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you”

“And if we were actually together and this wasn’t just a casual sex thing?”, she asked him, wanting to know how public he’d be if they ever really ended up together. “What would that mean?”

“I’d plaster your name everywhere,” he chuckled quietly. “You’re an incredible woman and I’d want everyone to know exactly who has my heart.”

That soothed her, and she smiled brightly at him and leaned down to kiss him again as he rolled her onto her back in the sheets.

Forty-five minutes later, he was changed and busy packing his clothes away while Raile raided the bathroom and took all of the complimentary soaps and shampoos.

His phone vibrated next to him and he answered it without really looking at the caller ID only to feel his heart skip a beat as his ex’s voice came over the speaker.

"Max? It's Noelle, how are you?"

"I was fine until you called," he shrugged, not bothering to hide his irritation. "What can I do for you, Noelle? I'm out of town right now."

"I know. Your mom told me you're going to a reunion. I was hoping you hadn't actually left yet, so that we could go together. Maybe talk afterward," she said, attempting nonchalance and failing miserably. "I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

"That makes one of us," he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Noelle. In the interest of complete and total honesty, I have zero aspirations of getting back together with you. I'm much happier now, and you can let my mother know I said that."

"Are you seeing someone?", Noelle asked him, feeling put out and annoyed. "I bet she's nothing like me in bed. She's probably a boring fuck, right?"

Max chuckled to himself as he got hard at the memory of last night.

"Actually, you're completely and totally wrong," he smirked, purring a little. "She's insanely hot, and an incredible dancer. Funny chick, excellent taste in pot and better taste in men. Do us both a favor, don't call this number again. Ever."

He hung up as Raile came out of the bathroom with a little bag full of soaps and other toiletries.

"Who was that?", she asked while stuffing the bag in her purse and leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"My ex-girlfriend. Apparently she went to my mom's to find out where I am," he shrugged, pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply. "I told her I was seeing some insanely hot chick with incredible taste in men."

Raile giggled against his lips and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I thought this was just casual," she purred at him. "No strings, just friends who can fuck?"

"Between us? Absolutely," he nodded. "If you want to date other people and fuck me on the side, go for it. But please, please get my mother and Noelle off my back. I'll owe you."

"Is she pretty, your ex-girlfriend?"

"Not as pretty as you," he smirked, kissing her nose. "Incredibly annoying, and she can't dance for shit. I'd much rather have you here with me."

"Did you love her?"

He sighed heavily, laying back on the bed and pulling her on top to hold her close.

"I'm not gonna lie to you and say no, because at one point I thought I was going to marry her," he said carefully. "But I have no lingering feelings for her currently. It didn't work between us and I'm fine with that. You're the only woman I'm thinking about right now, okay? I’m not interested in her or anyone else.”

“I know, it’s okay,” she reassured him, laying her head on his shoulder and letting him hold her. “We’re just friends, Max, I wouldn’t care if you still have feelings for her.”

Just friends seemed to simplify their current situation too much, but it was the only thing that made sense to her. She didn't want to risk baring too much of her soul to him, after all. No matter what they’d done she was going to keep him at somewhat of a distance, because it was the only way to keep from getting hurt.

“Right, just friends,” he nodded as his hand rubbed up and down her spine and he took a deep breath. “Can we go get breakfast now?”

He felt her roll off of him and sat up to run his hands through his hair, watching as she grabbed her bag and pulled it onto her shoulder.

“Thank you for being here, Raile,” he said quietly as he looked up at her. “It means a lot that you’re doing this for me, and I really appreciate it.”

“You’re my friend, Max, and you conspired with my mom,” she smiled as she reached a hand out. “I appreciate you getting me out of Cali for a little while, really. I couldn’t spend another minute just cooped up in my room or I would have lost my mind. It’s way too Twilight-esque for me,” she grinned as he took her hand and pulled himself up off the bed. “Don’t worry, it’ll all work itself out. And I’m here for as long as you need me.”

Max pulled her into his arms and took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

“Thank you, Raile. It’s been a long time since I had anyone around that I could count on, and it means a lot to me that it’s you.”

She let out a soft sigh and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

“I’m glad it’s me too, Max. You and I deserve to rub our success in their fucking faces,” she smirked. “So let’s go do that.”

“Right after we get a latte?”, he asked.

“Right after we get a latte,” she grinned.

#mjf fanfiction #here's to the night #iggy's fics

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mysterypigeon · 4 months

Note

hey sorry I was scrolling through the crane wives tags on tumblr and saw that post that you then reblogged about the seven potential new songs. I don't have any crane wives enjoyer friends so I'm leaving my thoughts with you instead...

before the pandemic happened they were talking about songs like nobody, volta, high horse etc (basically all the songs that are currently released as singles) all being on their next album, and they seemed very sure of it in some recordings I've seen

unfortunately then the pandemic happened and the new album never got finished :/ but I wonder if they're still holding true to that original plan, at least somewhat

on one hand I think getting the non-live versions of some of the singles would be hype. it would mean they'd get to play around more with arrangements, extra instruments and various sounds

on the other hand it'd also mean we get less new music which I would be ok with but admittedly would be *mildly* disappointed

or maybe they could just do another set of sister albums like they did with coyote stories and foxlore lmao

idk just some thoughts that I've been thinkin'

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!! god i wish my inbox was full of crane wives asks all the time

okay so first off yes sister albums would be ideal for maximum crane wives music. that would also be so funny to pull when no one expects it

i do have some bad news. i went to their april 4th concert, and before playing Nobody, they said "We're releasing an album in the fall. [crowd screamed] This next song won't be on it. But- yeah, I know. I didn't want to set expectations in case. Yeah... We are intro-ing it like it will be on the album. Sorry to disappoint you. But there will be, like, brand new music, which is good."

however! Nobody was one of the songs that got a Dogtown recording. you mentioned Volta and High Horse, but while Volta did, High Horse never got that kind of recording. others like Daydreamer, Here I Am, Hollow Moon, Taking Turns, Drown You Out, Empty Page and Sowing Seeds didn't either. it could be that some of those will show up on the album

still, i think it's going to be the seven we know about (Arcturus Beaming, Bitter Medicine, Mad Dog, More Time, Say It, Scars, and The Well) plus maybe five more secret songs (their albums are usually twelve). if Mad Dog and More Time don't make it i'll be quietly devastated, but the others are definitely on the album.

or maybe they will release a thirty-song album with every song they've written since 2016. we can only hope

thank you :)

#bonebreaker studio recording When #that nobody part is a direct quote btw. i was recording during that part of the concert #it was emilee and kate talking #the crane wives #mutual tag #asks #kindling

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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year

Text

Parallel, Chapter 2/6

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

When she wakes, unfiltered sunlight is beating down on her eyelids. She sits up abruptly, alarmed by the realization that she left the blinds open, which she has never once done. When she opens her eyes, she is immediately disoriented by her surroundings. The room is large and bright with high ceilings and one wall that is completely eclipsed by a window. The bed she’s lying in is gigantic, the bedding an unfamiliar paisley print. She’s wearing what can only be described as a nightie: a small black scrap of silky fabric that barely covers her chest and torso, and matching panties underneath. She blinks rapidly, taking in the art hung on the walls and an open door that appears to lead to a bathroom.

Her heart starts to pick up as she strains to recall where she is and how she got here. She remembers having dinner with Mulder. She remembers returning home. She remembers getting into bed and then—nothing. She’s not in any pain, doesn’t feel the groggy, thick-headed sensation of being drugged. She slips one hand under her panties and doesn’t find any tenderness or slickness. Physically, she feels fine.

Carefully, quietly, she slips out of the bed and pads over to the window, tugging on the hem of the nightie in an attempt to cover more of her thighs. A brief flash of vertigo sets her off balance and she touches the window pane to steady herself as she looks down to the street below, at least thirty stories. Beyond that is the endless expanse of the ocean, still veiled in early morning fog that is burning off as the sun pushes higher in the sky out of view. The road that runs along the shore is lined with palm trees, giving the distinct impression that she’s on the West Coast.

Again, she surveys the room, looking for anything that might help her fill in the gaping blank spot in her mind. On the bedside table there’s a cell phone charging and she rushes over to grab it, walking on the balls of her feet to minimize the sound of her footfalls. Quietly, she creeps into the bathroom and slowly pushes the door closed, turning the handle to soften the thunk of the latch. She’s not sure which switch is for the light and which is for the fan, so at the risk of making noise she leaves them both off. After powering the phone up, she dials Mulder’s number from memory and says half a dozen silent prayers as it rings and rings.

“Yeah?”

“Mulder?” she hisses, holding her mouth close to the receiver and cupping her hand around it.

“Huh?” asks the unfamiliar male voice on the other end of the line.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she repeats. “I don’t know where I am. I think I need help.”

“Is this Darla? I told you to knock that shit off,” the voice says angrily, and the line goes dead.

Her ears ring in the silence that follows. What is happening? Slowly, she sinks down onto the floor and leans against an enormous soaking tub. She takes another look at the phone, which is a similar model to hers. Navigating to the phone book, she begins to scroll through a list of names. Aaron, Ahab, Amanda, Bill, Christine, Charlie. An unsettling feeling roils in her belly. When she gets to “F” and sees “Fox,” she dials it immediately. Who else could it be?

“Hello?”

She knows immediately that it’s him. He sounds confused, but not alarmed.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she says in a harsh whisper.

“Mulder?” he repeats, a laugh in his voice. “Are you still in bed?”

A pause. Her mind is racing but getting nowhere.

“I don’t know where I am,” she tells him, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know how I got here.”

She hears the snatch of a door opening and she freezes. Her heart lodges itself in her throat, beating so hard it nearly chokes her. Beneath the door, she sees a shadow block out the sun as someone approaches on the other side, and she springs forward in an attempt to lock it. She’s not fast enough, and the knob turns before she can engage the lock. She scrambles backward, squinting as sunlight blasts into the darkened room.

“What are you doing?”

At the sound of his voice she looks up and finds him standing in the open doorway, a cell phone in one hand. He’s wearing nothing besides snug-fitting boxer shorts and his hair is shaggy, falling over the tops of his ears. He’s tan and chiseled, a beach bum version of himself, and she blinks at him, stupefied.

“Mulder?” she says uncertainly.

He quirks his head at her and flips on the light.

“Are you okay?” he asks, setting his phone on the counter by the sink and crouching down beside her. He slides his hand over her bare upper back and she flinches, which causes his face to fall. “Did something happen?”

She looks around at the opulent, subway-tiled bathroom, then at him, then at her own outfit. For a split second she feels embarrassed that she’s barely dressed, but he appears to be wholly unaffected by it. In fact, he hasn’t even seemed to notice. She keeps waiting for something to make sense, but it doesn’t.

“Where are we?” she asks, and his eyes go wide.

“At home,” he says fearfully. “Did you hit your head? Should I call Sam?”

She shakes her head slowly, then stares vacantly through the open bathroom door. Mulder reaches up to push her hair behind her ear, and the sun catches on a ring around his third finger. She grabs his hand mid-air, closely examining the weathered gold band.

“You’re married,” she says flatly.

He shifts so that he’s sitting more fully in front of her, then cups her face in his hands and looks intensely into her eyes. It’s comforting, in a way. His eyes are the only part of him that seems to be wholly unchanged since yesterday.

“You’re scaring me, Dana. I’m calling Sam.”

She sits on the bathroom floor, dazed, as he takes his cell phone into the bedroom and paces back and forth in front of the window. The way his body moves, the concerned glances he throws her way as he speaks in hushed tones with someone on the other line, it’s all very much Mulder. Slowly, she stands and looks at herself in the mirror. Her mouth falls open at the sight of her hair, which is significantly longer than it was yesterday, falling just past her shoulders. She’s freckled and sun-kissed like she was as a teenager, and her body beneath the nightie is muscled and lean. It’s not that she doesn’t like what she sees, but she certainly doesn’t recognize it.

“Do you have a headache?” Mulder asks, now standing in the doorway with his cell phone held against his bare chest.

She shakes her head, and he brings the phone back to his ear.

“She said no. Her pupils don’t look more dilated than normal. She was fine last night, but she seems really…” He glances at her and then moves away, but she hears him say, “She asked me where she is. It’s freaking me out.”

She closes the bathroom door and finds a robe hanging on the back of it, which she puts on. She uses the toilet, splashes water on her face, and brushes her teeth with what she has to assume at this point is her toothbrush. There are three gentle raps on the door and when she opens it, the look of abject fear on Mulder’s face makes her feel afraid too.

“Sam said we should go to the ER,” he says gravely. “She thinks you may be experiencing some kind of neurological event.”

“Who is Sam?” she asks, and the color drains from his face.

“My sister,” he says gently. “Samantha.”

She blinks at him, and he watches her raptly like she might spontaneously combust at any moment. She opens her mouth, on the verge of reminding him that Samantha is twenty-plus years missing and most likely dead, but two of the struggling synapses in her brain fire and make a connection.

There are thin spots between dimensions, access points through which they can interact with one another.

A dream is the answer to a question we haven’t yet figured out how to ask.

“I’m dreaming,” she says absently, and Mulder dips his head to try and catch her eye. “I mean, I had a weird dream. I think…I think I’m just a little confused,” she elaborates with a shake of her head.

Mulder sets his phone down and takes her face in his hands, tilting it up as he examines her closely.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks tenderly.

“Yes, sorry to scare you,” she says, pushing her mouth into a thin smile.

He sighs and rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes briefly. When he opens them he kisses her, and she tenses and sucks in a surprised breath through her nose. One beat, two, three, he finally pulls away and searches her face with his eyes. She feels starstruck, elated but confused, and she can’t think of a single thing to say.

“Come have some breakfast,” he says resolutely, grabbing her hand. “I might need a drink after that.”

She allows him to tow her through the bedroom and into a well-appointed apartment that cannot possibly be hers. Windowed walls, ocean views, furniture that looks like it was selected from a catalog. This is a dream, she tells herself. A very, very vivid dream. Mulder gestures for her to take a seat at the counter, then pours her a cup of coffee and digs around in the fridge for a few minutes.

She sips at the coffee as she looks around, nearly choking when she spots a large photograph printed on canvas across the room. Abandoning her cup, she approaches the canvas and stares in awe at the image of herself in a sleek white gown, Mulder beside her in a black tuxedo.

“Oh my god,” she says under her breath.

“Here,” he says from behind her, and she returns to the kitchen to find a bowl of yogurt topped with fresh fruit.

“Thank you,” she mutters, and while she has absolutely no appetite she forces herself to take a few hearty bites. Dream food tastes real enough, as it turns out.

“So,” Mulder says, taking the seat beside her with a fresh cup of coffee. “You had a weird dream?” She nods, peering at his mostly nude body from the corner of her eye. She can’t help but notice how snug his boxers are, leaving very little to the imagination. “Do you remember what it was about?”

She turns more fully to look at him. If her Mulder were here, the real one, he’d tell her to have fun with it—there’s no harm to be done in the world of dreams. She doesn’t allow herself to entertain the idea that the world she is currently visiting might actually exist.

“I dreamt that we worked together at the FBI,” she says, and he barks a laugh.

“In the VCU? I’m not sure you’d have liked it any more than I did,” he says jovially.

So this Mulder did work in the VCU, just like hers did.

“What’s the date today?” she asks.

“January 22nd.”

“January 22nd…?”

He gives her a worried look, and she regrets the question.

“2000,” he says reluctantly.

Okay. Same date, same year. No time travel involved.

“Right,” she says, as though confirming that he’s correct. Though she is fairly certain that none of this is really happening, some part of her feels the need to avoid disrupting this dream-world in an irreparable way. That, and she wouldn’t like to experience Mulder having her committed, even if only in a dream. “What was Samantha up to?” she asks casually.

“Oh, I should call her and tell her you’re okay,” he says. “She and Candice are hiking Mt. Whitney today. They were just getting to the trailhead.”

Scully nods and takes another bite of her yogurt.

“Do you remember when we first met?” she asks, offering him a nostalgic smile.

“Of course,” he answers, eyeing her suspiciously. “What about it?”

“I was just thinking,” she says, scrambling for something plausible, “we all have unique memories, even of the same events. So my memory of the day we first met may be slightly different from yours. I may have retained different details, for example.”

“That’s scientifically sound,” he says, brushing invisible crumbs off the countertop. “Cognitively, each memory is completely unique to the person and their state of mind at the time of the experience.”

“So why don’t you tell me about your memory of when we met, and then I’ll tell you which parts I remember differently,” she suggests.

Mulder pivots a little and leans back in his chair, slinging one arm over the back of it. She keeps her eyes carefully trained on his face, though she is extremely aware of his bare chest and belly in her periphery.

“A thought experiment?” he says skeptically. “Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

His wife.

She feels a flush of adrenaline, but then he cracks a smile and she exhales in relief.

“I was helping Sam move into her apartment at Stanford,” he says, turning back to his coffee. “I was right in the middle of making fun of a seriously anal retentive chore list on the fridge when the mastermind behind said chore list informed me that I was an arrogant asshole.” He glances over at her and smiles, and she gathers that the mastermind was her. “Obviously, I was immediately smitten.”

“Obviously?” she asks, surprised to find a genuine smile on her own face.

“Smart, gorgeous, and won’t put up with my bullshit?” he lists off, holding up a finger to punctuate each item. “Dream girl.” She feels herself blushing and hopes that he doesn’t notice. “How does that match up with your version of events?”

She opens her mouth and freezes, not having any of her own memories to reference.

“That sounds pretty accurate, actually,” she stutters. “Except my chore list wasn’t anal retentive, it was effective. Have you ever tried sharing an apartment with five med students?”

By his reaction she knows that she didn’t say anything illogical, and she really did create a chore chart for her shared apartment in graduate housing. But in the waking world, Samantha never lived there, because Samantha was already dead.

Mulder glances at his watch and hums around a mouth full of coffee.

“We should probably get moving, we need to leave in about an hour,” he says, clearing both their plates and cups.

Scully feels vaguely alarmed by the idea of leaving the apartment. Will her dream world persist if she ventures out?

“Where are we going?” she asks, then quickly adds, “I know we have plans, I just—”

“L.A.” Mulder answers, his back to her as he loads their dishes into the dishwasher. “Missy’s flight home boards at 5:30. We’ll drop her off at the airport after lunch.”

Scully’s stomach drops into her knees and she grabs on to the edge of the counter for balance.

“My sister?” she squeaks out through her suddenly constricted throat.

“The one and only,” Mulder says, oblivious to her reaction. After a beat, he turns to look at her, and she tries to shake off her stunned expression. “Why don’t you go get in the shower?” he suggests.

Scully nods and slowly slinks off the barstool. She walks to the bathroom in a daze, torn between wanting to wake up from this strange dream and never wanting it to end.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #txf #x files #the x-files #xfiles

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