#lemme know if you guys want this up on AO3

[s0fter-sin]

new poll time lads

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter one}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Bared teeth and instincts are all you have to defend yourself while out beyond the walls of the zone. And sometimes, you have Joel Miller, though he's just as apt to turn on you as anyone else.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, one (1) instance of joel miller bashing someone's head in, gun use, gun violence, reader chokes someone out, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this is different by far than anything else i've written and shared. dark joel miller content tends to be so controversial sometimes but i've been wanting to explore this part of his character for quite a while. the reader insert is also far more...robust than any i've written but it's all so exciting! please lemme know what y'all think?

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The tracks are faint, you’re barely able to make them out yourself as you crouch low to the ground and move your hand in the direction they look like they’re headed in.

“Hey, you missed somethin’.”

“The hell you talking about, there ain’t nothin’ to miss.” He’s suddenly hovering over you, his own footfalls silent despite the pain you know he carries in his back and the swagger he has to adapt to not irritate it. He’s shining his flashlight on the imprint you had managed to find among all the dirt and rubble, a barely there scrape in the dirt that could be mistaken for anything. His voice is harsh, degrading in tone as he scoffs at your find. “You didn’t find shit, stop trying to make somethin’ outta nothin’.”

“Yeah and I suppose the marks that look about the same depth and span out in an even trail heading north ain’t shit either, huh?” You ignore the heat of his legs clad in faded and dirt smeared denim far too close for comfort. It would be easy to brush against them if you turned just slightly. Straitening back up to your full height, you don’t step back as you aim your own light over the similar marks that lead down a narrow path between the scattered and broken bricks. “It’s someone’s staggered gait, would bet they twisted their ankle or knee and it’s dragging enough to leave ‘em behind for us. Need to trust the younger pair of eyes we’ve got out here.”

“Don’t mean it’s our guy.” Joel doesn’t budge, ignoring the double whammy insult, head turning back at the hush of wind sweeping between the crumbling buildings. He turns his light off, securing it between his belt and waistband on the back of his hip. You know he knows there’s some truth to your words with how he ignores them. A habit of his you picked up, silence in the wake of begrudging agreement. Never voiced lest someone overhear that he had his moments of amenable tendencies, even if they were very rare and far between.

“Could be.” You insist, you knew what you were doing. You knew how to get the damn job done and if he heeded your words even once, he would realize it could make the situation go a whole lot smoother than it had been. But of course he doesn’t, he’s as stubborn as you are. Something you loathe about the man who had become one of your partners. It was hard to trust him when he didn’t trust you, constantly at odds with the gruff way he insisted he knew better. It was beginning to get on your nerves, the days harder when you had to interact with him in such close proximity.

“Could be isn’t good enough.”

“Do you need a blowjob or something?” You turn slightly to face him, his strong profile highlighted by the dark golden hues of the setting sun.

“Excuse me?" He pinned you with a dark glare, not taking kindly to your question. He’s chest to chest with you now, hard expression aimed down at you as you don’t move an inch. You wouldn’t back down, never had before and wouldn’t now. He may be intimidating, but you were too in your own ways. Hell, the first encounter you had with the man ended up with your knife at his throat and your knee over his crotch.

Him and Tess had been in your apartment, staking out the smuggling ‘competition’ once they had arrived in the Boston zone. Coming home from a rather painful migraine after shoveling ashes of deceased people had been one of the highlights of the day, if such a thing could even be considered that, only to find two strange people rummaging around through your things. Joel hadn’t been prepared for you to turn on him first, thinking he had hidden himself well in the shadow of your door and following it as you slowly closed it behind you.

A warning shot fired off at Tess had her scrambling behind the beat-up couch in the middle of the room while you turned on him. Only after demanding answers from them and getting them from the woman as she crouched behind the furniture, had you backed down from a stoic Joel.  

“You heard me. You're pent up and snapping at everyone, need some relief?" Tilting your chin up, you meet his dark gaze head on, smirk pulling your lips up on one side. His eyes dilate just the slightest bit before narrowing, but you caught it and he knows you did. His voice is the deepest you’ve ever heard as he slowly responds with only one syllable.

“No."

"I think you do. Don't think I haven't seen the way your eyes drag down my body when you're walking behind me.” A bold statement, but a true one nonetheless. His eyes were a heavy and heady weight whenever they did exactly what you taunted. The thrill of the older man merely looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t see it perked up your self-esteem in a way you weren’t completely immune to, even in the shambles of what the world had turned into.

"Delusional. you're a delusional little-“

"I’m not a little girl, and you damn well know that." You punch the tip of your pointer finger into his chest, the dirty denim warm from his body heat. He’s a big man with a big reputation and it’s hard not to feel powerful as you obviously found one of the weak spots of his soft underbelly. An attack dog, a guard dog, a rabid dog, they all had one thing in common. They were only as strongest as their weakest point.

And you think you just found his.

The mischief of the unexpected discovery must glint in your eyes because his brows furrow impossibly deeper. The frown lines around his mouth pulling his thick mustache down, though it does nothing to shield the pale pink of his full lips.

He scoffs again, a harsh sound from the depths of his chest. Smacking your hand away from him, he takes off to follow the trail he can see a little better now that you’ve pointed it out.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Act like you’re hot shit around the zone, only reason people don’t mess with you is cause of me.”

“I was doin’ just fine on my own. Remind me again, who staked out who to scope out the competition?”

“Wouldn't let you touch me if I was at the end of a barrel, and it was my saving grace."

“Fuck off, Miller.” You spit back, unable to rise to his taunt even as you fall in line beside him. That one stung, you had to admit. It was your own stupid fault, for finding him so attractive. From his dark hair threaded with silver to the way he carried a lifetime on his shoulders.

But his attitude muddied it, he was no better than a lot of the men you had run into before reuniting with your brother. The end of the world bringing out the worst in people, just like you had never one to sling insults so harshly or tease people easily a decade older than yourself who could snap your neck with a well-placed grip. Just like you assumed the man Joel had been before all this wouldn’t have even dared to think of talking to a woman with such spite and malice, if his faded accent told you more than he ever would.

The trail ends just at the shattered glass of what was once a revolving door entrance to a skyscraper looms ahead. There’s fresh blood splatter and the bag of supplies stolen from where they had been hidden for you and Joel to pick up. Two shells from a gun lay on the ground beside it, and you quickly grip your handgun to survey the area for the culprit who fired the shots.

Joel holds up two fingers, your attention going to him almost instinctively as he motions for you to crouch and round the left side of what remains of the door and into the building after the drops of blood. His eyes are focused, his full lips a hard line as he nods once to make sure you understand him.

Only looking away once you return the gesture. He turns so his back is to yours and makes sure there’s enough coverage for you both with his own gun at the ready. As quietly as you can manage with what’s still hopefully inside the pack, you pick it up with your free hand and avoid as much glass as possible.

No shots ring out, no bullets lodge themselves into your shoulder or Joel’s, everything is eerily still as you both move in tandem to seek the protection of the building. It seems to be blocked off inside, large pieces of plywood secured over the doors that had once been for elevators. The emergency exit off the right barricaded with all the furniture that once filled the ground floor waiting area.

“Fuckin’ told you it was a trail.” You mumble as the conflict seems to be over, the body of the man who had taken off with your hidden pack behind the front desk. Fresh blood seeping from a gunshot wound to his neck and the bandage wrapped thick around his ankle. You don’t flinch when Joel brushes past you harshly to stomp the bottom of his worn boots into the man’s head or the sick crunch that echoes slightly in the open space. Ensuring he doesn’t turn if he had been infected.

He rounds on you quickly enough to stir your instincts, the fleeting fear of him doing the same to you flaring up and making you take a half step back at the fierce look in his eye. The words he practically growls at you making your heart stutter painfully in your chest, suddenly breathless at the combination.

“Would you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you? Tired of hearing that shrill voice all the god damn time.”

You huff, trying to play off the fear as indifference, shoving the bag of supplies at him. He doesn’t move to catch it, allowing it to hit him square in the chest, the pills and bullets contained inside rattling as the entire thing fell to the ground with a thunk.

Joel could only watch as you stalked off without another word, shoulders tense and hands shoved deep in the pockets of your jacket. He had seen the dilation of your eyes, the way your chest had risen with a quick inhale at his intensity. He had scared you.

That was new and he wasn’t sure if he liked it any better than you teasing him about being uptight and needing a little bit of pleasure in his life. An unpleasant lump rises in his throat and he tries to swallow it down.

Frowning, he bends to pick up the fallen pack, shoving it into his own nearly empty one before following after you. The silence that had fallen allows him to pick up the faint sound of labored breathing. But it isn’t coming from you up ahead.

It must’ve registered as a third person in the same instant for you because you’re turning to him with a finger pressed to your lips as you crouch behind a chunk of blasted concrete, gun already in hand. He mirrors you, reflections of each other as you each move around the barrier and take an assessing peak around respective corners.

Another man is laid out a few yards away, upper body slumped heavily on against the tire of a rusted car.

He’s barely alive, his breath rattling in his chest at a timbre that could only signal his impending death. A stark sound he recalls from a time long ago, both painfully fresh and numbed by years of oppression. He blinks the sound away, eyes closed for barely a second before you’re closing the distance with quick and quiet movements. A lunging dog at the sight of a threat. Constantly poised to take out anything that challenged the life you clung to.

It’s a reminder of why he willingly works with you, the way your smaller hands close around the man’s neck and clench. Shoulders displaying the strength you possess even with rationed food and improper amenities for life. If he wasn’t on your side, you would turn those same hands on him without a second thought. You had the first time you had met, when he had willingly gone into the den you had created for yourself in search of answers. In search of the name people gave when asked about who had the most knowledge on how to sneak out of the zone he now resides in.

He watches as you pick the man’s corpse clean, ration cards going in your pocket that he doesn’t think to demand a fair share of. Of the gun you hold out to him in silent offer.

No words are exchanged as you lead him back to the perimeter of the zone as the sun dips completely below the horizon. Moonlight illuminating your body effortlessly slinking and squeezing into places you had picked out that would allow for him to do the same with little trouble. You knew the operations of the zone, hell you probably were the reason some of them were orchestrated the way they were. The fear he had seen in you may have been fleeting, a response that allowed you to recognize the threat he could pose to you as well, but the way he admired your will to survive was not.

You only stay at his side long enough to relay the run to Tess, who had stayed behind and worked to ensure an alibi for you both. Signing your names and hers with one of the soldiers who traded with you on the roster in a perfect imitation of keeping up appearances for the demanded duties of all that reside in the zone. The ration cards slid into your back pocket are handed off to the older woman, no words or sounds coming from you before you slink out the door to their shared excuse of an apartment and down the hall to yours.

But he knew better than to think it was with wounded pride and your tail tucked between your legs, because he could hear the way you moved about your own space through the thin walls as if it had just been another day. Tess is watching him as his head tilts where he slumps on the couch, ears following the shuffle of your steps and the sound of clinking as you go about your own business. When he turns to meet her gaze, it’s unreadable but she doesn’t ask the reason for his short run down of what happened or the silence you had fallen into.

next chapter

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[notjustjavierpena]

Eat

A/N: Pussy? Eaten. Stomach? Butterflies. Hotel? Trivago.  Think this takes place short after Gush.

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49669783

Eat

Joel has you completely naked and pinned to his bed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sun is pining in through the curtains and heating up the room that’s already warm from your bodies being entwined. You have yet to get out of bed despite needing a shower, perhaps some food for your growling stomach, and maybe a glass of ice water from how sweaty your body is when you are in the older man’s proximity. He makes your heart pound.

He hovers over you whilst on his knees between your legs, hands on your wrists and gaze hungry as he contemplates what he wants to do with you. Your stomach drops as he asks, “Will you lemme have it? Lemme eat your pussy, princess?”

It’s not that you don’t think this is sexy. It is just that. Though, despite how many times Joel has made you come during the summer, he actually hasn’t gone down on you yet. 

He has tried a million times though, but you have always playfully pushed his head away every time he has tried to descend on your body, distracted him with a blowjob, or made him finger your cunt instead. At this point, you still haven’t told him that the reason is that you simply don’t like it. 

“Joel,” you avoid his gaze, turn your head away, “I—“

Joel hasn’t heard hesitation from you before, only the jokes that he hasn’t taken to heart. He lets go of one of your wrists, takes hold of your chin, and guides your head back so you face him again. He furrows his brow at the uncertainty in your eyes that meet his, “What’s a’ matter?”

“Nothing,” you play dumb, avoiding his curious look once more but he snaps his fingers in front of you to regain your attention. You groan at how well it works, “Why would anything be wrong? It’s just… I don’t really like it. I can’t come from it.”

Joel narrows his eyes slightly, not convinced, “Why’d you think you can’t come from it?”

“This guy I was with,” you begin and it’s Joel’s turn to look uncertain. You want to roll your eyes; doesn’t he know that he has ruined everyone else for you by now? 

“Years ago,” you add, “He told me I took too long, so maybe I just, you know, couldn’t. I didn’t want to try again.” 

Joel doesn’t get pissed at the guy or start a rant like you expect him to do (something about that boy taking this sort of experience from you and turning it into something negative). Instead, he starts laughing to the point where he needs to rest his forehead against your shoulder to calm himself because the pout you give him just makes him laugh harder. 

“What?” You push at his head in annoyance. He cannot even hold onto your other wrist anymore. 

“Took too long. Jesus,” his laughter is interrupted by a cough. You can feel his chest vibrating against your own, “He was bullshittin’ you, baby girl. What a lazy piece of shit, and what range of stupid lil’ fuckers you’ve allowed to have what’s mine.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” you squirm underneath him at his choice of words, reaching for his hair with your hands to pull at it gently, “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“It is kinda funny,” he looks up at you through his lashes. There’s something sweet to his voice whilst his eyes darken, “Hey now. It’s just… ya said ya didn’t squirt either, and then fuckin’ wet the bed.”

You go beet red, “Joel. God.”

“I’m merely a man just tryna prove a point,” he jokes, earning a glare. Something shifts a little in the air and then he isn’t playing anymore, “Will ya lemme try? Just f’me? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t know,” you sound unsure. 

“We’ll go reeeal slow,” he pushes.

“O-okay,” you say. What’s the harm in letting him try? It’s not like it is uncomfortable for you, but rather just slightly boring and awkward. 

“Okay’s not a yes, princess,” Joel crawls up to try to kiss your uncertainty away. He pecks your lips over and over again, switching not long after to pepper your face with more gentle kisses instead. They’re scattered across your cheeks, lips, nose, above your eyebrows, soft eyelids, and chin. He doesn’t let up until you giggle sweetly. 

“Yes!” You squeak and mess up his hair, “Eat some damn pussy, if it means that much to you.”

“Try to relax for me,” he instructs and pushes himself to sit up again. His eyes have darkened further, “How do you want ya legs?”

You bend your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed and spreading yourself open enough for Joel’s broad shoulders to fit between your thighs. He doesn’t go down yet though, keeping his promise of taking things slow in case you want to stop before it gets too intense. 

His lips connect to where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing his nose firmly into you to inhale your scent. It must be nothing but sleep and sweat by now. He opens his mouth against your skin, sucks across your collarbone until he reaches your jugular notch. He dips his tongue into the dent, and licks off the sweat before murmuring, “I can feel you not relaxin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a pounding heart and you mean it, curl your toes, but he shushes you immediately. 

“No, no. This ain’t on you, baby. Tell me what I can do to make ya relax,” he pulls back to look at your face. He looks so gorgeous with the sun hitting his body like this. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper without knowing why. 

“My baby wants to hear how gorgeous she is?” He asks as he goes back to putting his mouth on your throat. You tip your head back, and he hums against you, “How perfect ‘n beautiful ‘n sexy? Perhaps a little spoiled too?”

“Mhm, yes,” you rest your hand on the back of his neck when he starts to descend. His lips trail down between your breasts, and his huge palm covers one of them whilst he sucks on the other. He is eager, cheeky enough to tug your nipple into his mouth with his teeth. You moan softly.

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Jesus, look at you,” he mumbles absentmindedly to himself before going back in. He dares to suck a light purple mark onto your skin just close enough to your nipple so that you can cover it up and keep it a secret between the two of you even if going to the lake with friends and wearing your skimpy bikini.

You groan and arch your back when he switches to the other one of your tits, cupping it still whilst lapping at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it just when you think he might pull away, causing you to let out a long drawn-out whine. 

“You fuckin’ love that, don’t ya?” He kisses the swell of your breast, tugs a little with his hand. You close your eyes, bolts of arousal shooting up your spine again when he suckles once more. 

Slowly, you find that much of the nervousness is seeping out of your body with every kiss, lick and suck of your salty skin. It may be the time to admit that Joel knows just which buttons to push to turn you into putty. It may also be the time to admit that you are starting to get excited about what is going to happen. Nervous but excited.

“You’re so soft… like damn silk,” he admires whilst he goes lower. His nose brushes along the length of your stomach, tickling a little to the point where you shiver and let out a soft sigh. He relishes in it, “Damn, baby. Listen to that sound.”

You rake your nails across his scalp when he nips at your skin. Heat is pooling in your belly and you can feel slick drip onto the sheets, running down the cleft of your ass, “Touch my pussy, Daddy.”

Joel tenses visibly at the nickname. He grips your hip, and somehow becomes a little rougher in everything he does, “Gotta wait. Maybe your disaster college boyfriend didn’t get ya worked up enough. I definitely ain’t gonna make that mistake.”

He crawls further down, kisses open-mouthed and hot right below your belly button several times. Even places the flat of his tongue against the skin there to lick long languid stripes, “Won’t start until you beg me to kiss your little twitchin’ clit.”

“But I’m so wet,” you pout, flexing the muscles in your stomach. When you try lifting your hips to find some kind of friction, he pushes you right back down into the mattress. 

“Stop,” he warns sternly. The hand on your hip runs across your belly, teases over your mound and ghosts over your clit until you cry feebly for him, “Do you want me to just touch ya between your pretty legs?” 

“I told you I don’t like the other thing,” you reply to spite him and egg him on. He smacks one of your thighs, wiggling the flesh after. 

“Liar,” he breaks eye contact to look right down at your cunt. You are sure that he can see how you clench around nothing, clit so hard that it is exposed from underneath the hood. You are so ready for him to follow through, no matter the nervousness in your body, “The anticipation wouldn’t have you this excited if yadidn’t care. You’ll fuckin’ let Daddy live between your thighs after he’s done eating.” 

“Fine,” you huff, spreading your legs further to punctuate your sentence, “Put your mouth on my pussy. Prove it.”

Joel groans at the sight of you giving in to him. He gets comfortable on the bed, legs hanging out over the edge. One arm scoops underneath you to curl around your right thigh and the other rests on top of your left. He splays his hand across your sternum, and almost automatically, you reach for it and tug at two of his fingers as if needing something to hold onto for dear life. 

“Now we talkin’,” he smirks. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt, heart almost beating out of your chest with how horny you feel. That, and the fact that what Joel is about to do to you seems to be the most intimate thing you can think of. It feels dangerous, exciting, and scary.

You put another pillow behind your back and head, so you can watch him over the top of your tits and his hand. He grumbles but waits. 

“Go,” you say with an apologetic smile, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Ain’t you adorable?” Joel gazes up at you to follow through on your wish, “Ready?”

“Just wanna come now,” you promise, “‘m just nervous. Makes me fidget.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, breath ghosting over your pussy as he lowers himself down slowly, “Makes ya toes curl too.” 

You cannot quite believe that you have Joel Miller’s face between your legs right now, and even less so believe the hungriest smile in history that he is sporting. It is enough to make you blush, letting go of Joel’s hand and reaching up to cup your face when the anticipation becomes overwhelming. You rest your pinkies in front of your mouth, palms burning from being clasped around your cheeks but it feels like you might lose it if you let go.

The simple brush of his tongue that he chooses as a starting point has you squirming on the bed. His tongue is warm and flat against you, licking how he had done it against the sensitive skin of your stomach. 

Your stomach muscles twitch. It feels… good. Better than the first time you did it. 

“Okay?” He asks in a hum, looking up at you through his lashes with genuine eyes. You nod slowly, and he lowers again to press a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. 

And then another.

And another. 

You make a noise best described as a soft sigh. 

Then he goes lower, the kisses becoming more sloppy and wet. He stops when he reaches your quivering cunt, lets out his tongue to scoop up some of the slick that has gathered and is spilling down between your cheeks. He then licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit, and laps at it like he is eating a damn ice cream cone. 

“Mhmm, tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, like heaven,” he continues with his small licks, the hand on your chest finding your left nipple. Tugs like he knows you like. 

You moan for the first time, not sure if you have repressed the urge to do so. He takes it as a sign to keep going, stiffening his tongue to run it between your folds repeatedly and eventually settling on your clit again. He flicks the tensed-up muscle against the nub, setting up a pace that suddenly causes you to whine.

“Ohh,” you swallow thickly, part your lips and breathe heavily. A muscle in the thigh that Joel is holding flexes involuntarily, and you can feel him smirk against you when he moves back to open-mouthed kisses. 

“No, go back,” you demand, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Joel pulls back instead to tease you. He removes his hand from your thigh to suck his thumb into his mouth. He makes you tremble at the sight, but even more when he circles your clit with the pad of the finger after, “You like Daddy’s tongue on your pussy, baby?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Say it,” he still draws lazy circles.

“Feels so good,” you admit finally with a groan, “You’re always right.”

“Know I am,” he kisses your inner thigh. The hand on your breast moves to rub soothingly up and down your belly, “‘bout time you realized.”

“I want you to keep going,” you say with a shy smile, blinking down at him, “Please, Daddy?”

His hands still on you, but then he reaches to place both hands on your inner thighs to spread you out a little further. You fall back into the pillow, and he sinks into you again, “Whatever baby wants, baby gets.”

You have never actually thought about how big his mouth is before. In fact, it is huge in comparison to everything about you. He is able to stretch his lips over every inch of your cunt, and he gladly does.

Your breath hitches before you let out a drawn-out moan. Joel eats you out enthusiastically; he licks, sucks, and even dips his tongue inside of you for a moment too. You can feel the world closing in on you, shrinking to nothing but the pressure that builds. 

“It’s—“ you want to say something that makes sense, because whatever you had done in the dim light of your college dormitory a few years prior was definitely not this, but there are no words that describe how overwhelming his slick tongue is, “It’s— oh God.”

You squeal pathetically as your cunt teeters on the edge of an orgasm. You try to press your thighs inwards to make the intensity go away, but Joel is so much stronger than you.

It hits you then. Fuck, it’s going to happen; you’re going to come with his mouth between your legs, and he is never going to let you live this down. This is not what you had planned. There is a little part of you that knows you would have relished in being right for once, but there’s a much bigger part that thanks the Gods that you aren’t going to live forever without coming like this. 

You close your eyes as you groan, but it makes Joel slow down, “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart, look at me.”

He sucks again, and your hands fly to his hair, but it only goes on for a second, “Ya doing so well. Does it feel good, princess?”

“You’re being mean,” you whimper, tugging at the strands of hair that you have between your fingers, “Make me come.”

Joel follows through then. He buries his nose in your mound and sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with how much effort he puts into it. When you start thrashing on the bed, he wraps his arms around your legs and holds you tightly in place until you fall apart right below his mouth. 

You shriek as your cunt spasms. If not for Joel’s strength, you are sure that you would have accidentally kneed him in the face, because your legs lose control of themselves as if the orgasm has severed any connection to them. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you break the swearing rule as your orgasm peaks, pushing and pulling his head away because you don’t have a clue whether you want more or less. Your back arches as Joel keeps licking through your drenched folds, you think you might have started to cry too. 

Shaking breaths echo through Joel’s bedroom as you come down. Joel has removed your hands from his head, and you have slumped into the mattress with a whimper. Nothing has ever felt more dirty. 

“Are you okay?” He asks after crawling up the bed to lay beside you. He rubs your stomach with his broad hand, and even that makes you let out a feeble sigh. 

You laugh with exhaustion, but don’t reply. 

“I do good?” He asks with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his hand over his soaked mouth and chin. 

You turn your head to look at him but then start giggling, pointing to your own nose, “You got a little… you know.”

He doesn’t get it when he wipes his hand over his nose the first time. You laugh harder due to the dopamine flowing through your system, and he grumbles, “Well help me then, kiddo.” 

When you beckon him closer, he moves without hesitation, and as you run your index finger down his nose to catch your own shiny arousal, you try to push down the feeling of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

It’s a feeling that needs to go away. You can’t possibly love Joel Miller and survive.

.

.

.

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[offside-the-lines]

MattDrai Fic Recs

So @irrelevanttous and @puckthisshift sent me the ask meme prompt for "what my favorite Mattdrai fic is" and I went on a JOURNEY lemme tell ya. I ended up figuring out how to download my AO3 history (in which I discovered that in the last year, I've read like literally 50% of all the MattDrai fics ever written) to help me figure out what my faves were. So here are some (most? I hope?), split into categories.

General Faves:

head above water by yourblues (@msmargaretmurry) 🔒 (E, 91.1k) This might be one of the best pieces of RPF ever written; it's a classic. I have visited this fic literally 21 times. It has everything: stupidity, pining, incredible sex, falling for each other, also more stupidity. Chapter 6 literally rips my entire soul out every time. I think this fic permanently altered my brain chemistry. It's a perennial re-read.

only fools rush in by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 94.9k) This is another fic that is a Must Read for HRPF as a whole. The entire time, I just want to reach through the screen and wring both of their necks for being so incredibly dense. And I love everything about this, especially just the way it's written is so incredible.

Growing Into Someone by @blaahaj 🔒 (E, 46.5k) God, I love this fic so much, I come back to it all the time. I think this must've been one of the first Mattdrai works I read. But I just love how natural the initial tension is, and how inevitable their falling in love is, and how the climax happens and resolves is just so incredible.

Undo Falling for You by crookedsilence (@csblogs) 🔒 (T, 16.1k) This is an AU I guess? I put it in this section because it's Hanahaki, so like only kinda AU. Either way, I am obsessed with this! It is just emotionally perfect. Highly recommend.

rough dream? by reticent 🔒 (M, 7.2k) So, this fic is probably the most "out there" suggestion because of the warning (I'll get to that part) but this fic is literally the most perfect microcosm of what Mattdrai fics tend to have: pining, lack of communication, falling in love while being terrified of falling in love, etc. This is a time loop fic where Matthew is stuck in the time loop but it's told from the perspective of Leon. It is absolutely incredible. I think about this fic ALL THE TIME. The warning is for a suicide, but no "actual" character death because the time loop resets.

i'll tell you when to stop by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 39.6k) (McMattDrai) This is the real answer to 'what fic do you send people if they want to get into MattDrai'. I have sent this to so many people because it is perfect. Everything about this is perfect. Matthew's internal dialogue and his anxiety, and his perception of what's happening. The second half of the fic is so well-written and suspenseful. Something I feel it will give me a heart attack even though I've read it like 10 times.

Future Fics

Saving the Best for Last by @puckingtrash 🔒 (E, 100.1k) This is the fic that made me obsessed with Future Fics of current rivals. There's just a level of camaraderie and understanding that happens after that many years in the same league; it doesn't matter how much beef you had. And this fic is just so incredible. I love thinking about what these guys do after retirement. A must read IMO.

home by now by daisysusan (@hopetorun) 🔒 (E, 102.3k) Probably one of the best fics. I love the way this builds up and keeps you on edge. It really mirrors how Matty feels, just this general unease of knowing something is wrong but not knowing what. The laying of the pining with the hurt and confusion is just so well done.

back to where we lasted by @ohtemporas 🔒 (E, 34.4k) Trade fics are always so interesting with these two. Especially in the situation where they are exes. And one of them (Leon in this case) has fucked up greatly, and they need to figure out how to get past it because neither of them are over it. Or in this case, figure out how to do it again, but properly.

Old Flames Burn Brighter by @cisumox (E, 25k) I love this fic so much because of the way they are both clearly affected by what happened and how much they still want to love each other. I think about this one al the time. Warning: this does involve a career ending injury.

settle down in the Sunshine State by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 14.7k) This has my fave Mattdrai trope where one of them is a fucking idiot, and is so in their head about it. And they have absolutely no idea what literally every single other person knows. In this case, it's Matthew. I absolutely love this fic. I read it all the time.

gather your broken lessons and move by rumandwhine 🔒 (E, 30.5k) This one is super interesting because it doesn't involve a trade, or them in the same place. It is the same as it was before, but different. How are they doing to figure out what went wrong and how are they going to make sure they don't make the same mistakes? They are older now, but are they any less stupid. Keep reading to find out. (Also featuring an absolutely hilarious situation with Drai and his rookie).

AUs

linger by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 65.5k) (Omegaverse) This is another all timer. It is so incredible: the way they are just so inexplicably drawn to each other, and obsessed but so worried about their obsession. And the way Leon treats Matthew as something really special from the beginning (and how Matthew just doesn't seem to pick up on that). The way that things build towards the climax, with the ASG 2023 moment (which makes me want to rip my eyeballs out every time; it HURTS). It has all the best parts of omegaverse and explores their relationships with their dynamics so thoughtfully.

whatever promises I made by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 360k) (Omegaverse) Yet another all timer for the genre as a whole. The way that omegaverse is explored here is so interesting. It was the fic that really got me on board with the AU. It is so core to the way the characters interact with each other and the world, and the inherent traumas it brings really parallels some of the experiences of populations in the real world (e.g. women).

so is the longing by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 44.7k) (Omegaverse) When I tell you I have read this fic sooooo many times. It is so so good (and so hot). Matthew is so incredibly oblivious and Leon is pining so hard and down soooooo bad. I think Leon's love for Matthew can be seen from like Alpha centauri and yet Matthew totally misses it (among other things). This is SO good.

Egos and Eligibility by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 91.1k) (Regency & Omegaverse) I will continue to suck up to my good friend Iris LOL. But seriously, I read this before I even knew it was her and I love it so much. I adore Regency Matthew and the way Leon is literally ever MMC from the era (Mr Darcy) is so funny to me (why so pissy Leon). Regency is such a perfect setting for the Omegaverse tropes of courting and, also again, exploring the societal impact of having these dynamics in play. I think the part where Matthew goes into heat is SO funny and well written. Bridgerton wishes.

Royal Pain by lavender_hazyy 🔒 (E, 48.9k) + Sequel Rules of Engagement (E, 37.8k) (Medieval/Royalty/Bridgerton/Robin Hood) That sounds like the most bonkers combination of things, but it's truly so so so good. I recommend this one SO much. It's so much fun to read, and their interactions are so funny. Poor Connor is always experiencing the Horrors in the background. Everything about this is perfection. THE FUCKING LOVE LETTERS OMG.

bittersweet and strange by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 53.4k) (Fairytale Curses) Will I ever stop thinking about this? Probably not. :) I think so much of this is a metaphor for the "beast" that Matthew portrays himself to be (maybe believes himself to be) irl. Also, I will never get enough of Taryn as a character; she is just incredible. I will literally never forget the reveal at the end (and ever villain I ever write will be henceforth inspired by you). (Also, curly haired tiger Matthew, you will always be real to me. Leon + me *handshake emoji* wanting to tough Matthew's fur).

I honestly don't even think this is ALL of the Mattdrai fics I think about regularly/reread regularly. But these are at least a lot of them. There are also so many good recommendation lists on this website when you search for "mattdrai fic recs" that will include even more fics than the ones I've selected.

Legitimately, thank you to all Mattdrai writers out there for being the fucking GOATs. I don't know what I would be reading if not this.

[taintandviolent]

Knead ; Kit Walker x reader

summary: Kit hasn’t been coping well with Briarcliff life, and developed an unhealthy solution to the numbness he feels on a daily basis. You’re a perfect, beautiful part of his plan.

word count: 1.7K

w a r n i n g s: hurt, angst, depression, kind of whump, brief mentions of smut, female receiving, violence, fist fights and brief mention of injuries.

a/n: my first official Kit Walker fic!! requested by an anonymous!! anon; hope this is what you had in mind and I delivered!! I tried to focus more on Kit’s motivations and issues than the smut, so that’s why it’s a little lighter on the fucking this go round! I dunno why I struggle writing for Kit so much, aaaaah! also written at work, so usual apologies for any disjointed or clunky writing!!!

full fic under the cut! / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

The storm raged on outside, a horrible deluge that had lasted days. Kit's dark eyes flitted to the clock on the wall. The hands ticked by but time never seemed to change. Not here. He needed to feel something. Anything. The days turned into weeks, weeks into months and nothing ever changed. He was an accused man, previously compos mentis, but with his surroundings, that title deteriorated gradually.

Kit Walker was losing it. Slowly, but surely. The cold, grey tone of Briarcliff was swallowing him whole, like a starved, but fading beast. Days were the worst - at least come evening, he could sleep. With sleep, came dreams. Dreams of somewhere else, dreams of you. Days were long and dreary, and Kit soon realized that the only thing that mattered were physical feelings. His mind wasn't a safe place to be. The truth of it was, Kit felt his fire burning out, and started acting out.

First, it was intentionally burning the biscuits. He was reprimanded and sentenced to biscuit duty for the next two weeks. Then it was sneaking out from the common room on repeated occasions, sulking along the hallways as though he wanted to get caught. Deep down, he did. Reprimanded again, and confined to solitary as punishment. But that afternoon, he craved something deeper. He needed something that would last, and Sister Jude had an unusual streak of mercy lately. It had to be good.

"Hey, sugah’."

Your tired hands stopped their kneading. You looked up, wide-eyed, with a smear of flour across your cheek. He didn't know it, but you'd had a thing - a silly little crush - on Kit Walker since you saw him in the common room during your first week. You'd heard the rumours, but every time you exchanged words, he was the nicest guy you'd ever met. Seemed like he had good, strong family values and manners -- which was more than you could say for most of the men you'd met.

Kit spotted the dash of white and reached out, wiping it away with the pad of his thumb. You really were one of the cutest girls he'd seen since Alma. It wouldn't be hard to do what he wanted... what he needed to do to feel again.

"Hi, Kit." You murmured, frustrated before returning to the pile of off-white dough. The last thing you needed was a distraction; the biscuits were already hard enough to get right, and Sister Jude was a stickler for them being made correctly.

"Whatsa' mattah'?" He could sense your irritation, and furrowed his brows. Maybe his plan wasn't going to work after all.

"I can't... get these darn biscuits right! Every time I try, they come out too hard and I'm just..." You grit your teeth and shoved the mound of dough away from your hands. "I'm so frustrated!"

"Dough duty, huh?"

You nodded, and pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes with your wrist.

"Here, sweethaht', lemme' show you. I've done enough of 'em to know how to do it right."

He was suddenly behind you, his arms stretching out to the table in front of you. He rested his hands atop of yours, and slowly began moving them, kneading them slowly. Much slower and softer than you had been.

"Just like that," he murmured, his lips close to your ear. "You gotta' be gentle with 'em... firm, but not too much... or they'll seize up on ya', makes 'em tough." His words were low and sweet, and you didn't have to try very hard to find another meaning to them. They evoked a deep, body-rocking shiver from your core. It travelled up your spine and made your teeth chatter. Kit laughed breathily behind you.

"Am I doing it right?" You whispered, your voice sweet and demure, laced with intention. "I have a tendency to wanna'... go fast."

"Slooow, sugah', nice n' slow. Othawise..." His teeth grazed your ear. "The dough won't rise."

Without warning, you rutted your ass against his groin, moaning aloud. You ground your ass against him slowly, just like he told you to. Kit made a fist in the dough over yours, forcing your hands deep into the flour. This was progressing faster than he expected. He hadn't known you'd be so willing to his advances. His cock twitched to life, tightening the front of his pants.

"You want it bad, sugah'?"

"I want it bad," you echoed. Suddenly, all worries of getting caught went out the window, you were no longer concerned about which Sister would find you - you just wanted him.

It had been weeks since either of you felt intimacy, felt that clawing hunger as it boiled in your core. You whimpered and dropped your head to his shoulder.

"Let me feel you, Kit... please..."

Kit ripped his flour-covered fingers from the dough, and reached back to his crotch, pulling his throbbing cock from his pants. He flipped the edge of your uniform up, and pressed his heavy cock against the curve of your ass. The sensation was indescribable, and he let out a throaty groan.

The hunger had him. The hunger, and the promise of punishment. Your body was soft and sweet like the dough in front of you two and had him going, that was undeniable, but the threat was what was really driving him forward. He needed to feel everything he could. He took hold of his cock, stroking it slowly against your ass cheeks, feeling the precum as it leaked into his hands.

Kit's free hand wrapped around your hips again, urging them backwards into his own. You whimpered, letting him take full control. Your fingers were still embedded in the dough, squeezing through the spaces between your digits.

With a deep sound, Kit slipped himself inside you. Your walls squeezed around him as he plunged himself as deep as he could, humping you hard. His thrusts were determined, but steady and slow. Just like he'd said...

You reached around to take hold of his soft brown hair, making a fist in the locks. He didn't care that your fingers were covered in flour, and it was falling into the collar of his shirt. He didn't care about anything except what he was feeling.

Touch-starved, it didn't take him long to climax. Kit emptied his load inside you, pumping it deep. You whimpered, rolling your lips inward to soften the moans. You were close behind him, and when he whispered in your ear, begging you to do it, you did.

Kit heard the heavy bootsteps before you did. But he didn't move. He was ready.

"Hey! What in the hell do you think you're doin'!?" The orderly bellowed, and Kit yanked his softening cock from you. Your legs twitched together as it left you, the slippery feeling sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Phase two of his plan was in action. Kit stepped in front of you, fists raised in front of his face. He pumped, and threw the first punch, making contact with the guy's cheekbone. He reeled back, touching his skin to see if he'd broken skin -- he hadn't. But he was going to pay for that.

Fortunately for Kit and his now-sick need, he hit him back, harder, splitting his lip immediately. You spun around, pressing your back against the table, covering your mouth in horror as the two men fought.

The man threw a hard left hook and Kit went down, falling to the cold cement floor with a thud. You could do nothing but scream, begging for him to stop. Through winces, Kit looked up at you and shook his head. To you, he was being noble. To him, he was revelling in the pain he was feeling and wanted nothing to interrupt it.

~

"Assaulting an orderly, Mr. Walker?"

"Yes, Sistah'. He looked at me sideways."

"He interrupted your fornication, is what he did." She sternly remarked. Kit swallowed, looking down at his feet. The punishment was coming - he wouldn't have been called into her office otherwise.

"Seems like he got the better of you." She gestured to him pointedly. He had, that was true. Kit had gotten a few good punches in, but the orderly was bigger and brawnier, and had walloped him as soon as he'd gotten the chance. The cut on his lip stung every time he spoke, and his ribs were definitely bruised from the steel-toed berrage that he'd endured earlier.

"Over my desk," she rasped. Kit was almost excited -- a disgusting, disappointing feeling that he knew, deep down, he shouldn't be feeling. But a feeling was a feeling and he had to ride it out, in whatever way he could.

"Sistah' Jude," he interjected, as he bent over the modest wooden desk. "I'm sahrry' for what I did but don't punish her. She didn't do anything. It was all me."

"Mr. Walker," she replied. "I'll do exactly as I see fit."

The first hit stung. She was using the wooden switch, and it sliced through the air with an audible thwip. It burned against his skin, sweltering hot heat coursing over his cheeks and the back of his thighs. Tears bit at the corner of his eyes, it felt so terrible. That was just it -- it felt so terrible. He hadn't felt this much in weeks.

She hit him again, just above the spot where she'd previously hit. Kit winced again, clenching his fists hard atop her desk. Another one, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. He inhaled through clenched teeth and exhaled hard through his nose with each hit. Sister Jude's kind streak had ended, and she was unrelenting.

Twelve hits later, she finally stopped. Kit was sent back to his room, welted and bruised all over, but hell... at least he felt something.

[meowmeowriley]

Idea that's too short for an AO3 fic: Tactical Cuddling. (Is It Tactical Cuddling If There's No Tactical Need And It's Just Straight Up Cuddling?)

Side note- No but fuck you, I'll call this mini fic whatever I want.

established relationship, GhostxSoap, fluff Soap uses feminine terms of endearment and call Ghost his wife because I think it's funny.

Ghost had been on a long Op. Several weeks in the dark. No contact with his team, with his family, nothing. He was dirty, and exhausted as he trudged through the base. He'd debreifed with Price, after which he'd pulled out his phone and groaned.

"Something wrong, Ghost?" Price raised a brow.

"Bloody phone's dead. Just wanna talk to Johnny." He sighed in defeat. He'd charge the damn phone, then call his boyfriend ASAP, then he'd go to sleep. Knowing himself, he'd probably combine the last two, falling asleep to Johnny's voice was just so damn nice.

Price was smiling at him. "Stop by the sergeants quarters, say hi to the new guy, then get some rest. You've earned it." Damn Price and his push for camaraderie.

"The new guy?" He asked, exhaustion painting his words darkly. Or maybe it was disdain, he hated meeting new people, after all.

"You'd've known if your phone wasn't dead." Price dismissed him then Ghost kicked himself mentally again for forgetting to turn the damn thing off to save the battery.

Now, as he shuffled towards the Sergeants's room, he cursed the new guy for being between him and his room, and consequently, his ability to call Johnny. Nothing should stand between him and his Johnny. This man was already on his shit list. He'd be lucky if all he got out of Ghost was him flipping the man the bird. What Ghost really wanted to do was punch him in the face. The other sergeants were already afraid of him, might as well start the new guy off right.

He could hear Gaz talking as he approached, and started gearing up his best glare to send the way of the new guy whom Gaz was most likely talking to, but when he got to the doorway his legs and lungs stopped working simultaneously. There, across the room, was his beautiful beloved boyfriend. Johnny.

"Oh, sir, you're back! This is our new Sergeant, Soap." Gaz started to introduce, it fell on deaf ears.

Ghost jerked forward, barely keeping himself from running. With single minded focus he crossed the room. Johnny looked at him with a crooked grin, but he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Ghost knew he looked like shit, still fully kitted and filthy, but he didn't care. He collided with Johnny, crushing him in his embrace. A smaller man would've snapped like a twig. His momentum carried them both around and then down, falling gracelessly onto the bed that had been behind Johnny. Roach's bed, but who fucking cared? Not Ghost. "Simon!" Johnny grunted as he was pulled down on top of Ghost, then he chuckled as he accepted his fate.

"Missed you love, but why are you here?" Ghost asked. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, carding his fingers through Johnny's hair.

"Got transfered. I texted you?" Ghost could feel the man cock his head to the side.

"Phones dead." He grunted.

Johnny hummed and Ghost felt a kiss be pressed against his lips through the mask. "You know, I wasn't expecting to get tackled." He chuckled against Ghost's clothed lips.

"Wasn't a tackle. Was a hug, 'n then I decided to lay down." Both he and Johnny laughed at his cheek. Ghost thought himself pretty damn funny.

"I thought you said you had a wife?!" Gaz croaked. Right. They had an audience of two.

"Aww, you talked about me?" Ghost teased.

"I didn't give them your name, in case you wanted this a secret. Guess I didn't have to be worried." With his hand still on Johnny's head, Ghost felt him turn to look at Roach and Gaz as he spoke to them. "Aye, he's the wife." He turned back to Ghost. "Simon, hen, you're filthy. Let's get you changed, yeah?"

"M'fine. Lemme sleep, Johnny." Ghost was fighting nodding off, the comforting weight of Johnny on top of him was pushing him towards sleep.

"No, come on. Up." Johnny was pulling on his tac vest, climbing off the bed to pull him up. Ghost obliged with a huff, and finally opened his eyes again. Roach and Gaz were staring at the two of them with open mouths. "You should hear the shit they said about you, Simon." Johnny said with a grin, causing both the other men to blanch. He began meticulously removing Ghost's kit. Helmet first. Then vest.

"I'm sure most of it was true." Ghost yawned as he lifted his arms to allow Johnny access to the sides of his vest. As he sunk down to remove Ghost's holsters and knee pads he looked up at Ghost.

"Ye eat babies, love?" Those electric blue eyes danced with mirth.

"There's something I've been meanin' to tell you, Johnny." Ghost couldn't help the smile that spread as he joked. The mask hid it anyway.

Johnny gave a playful shove to his chest, then withdrew his hand and gave an experimental squeeze to his fist. Ghost knew his shirt was drenched with sweat, if they were still early in their relationship perhaps he would've been embarrassed. Right now, he was not. Johnny made quick work of his shoes. "Right, let's get you some new clothes as well."

"My room's too far." Ghost didn't whine. Wasn't capable of it. At least that's what he told himself.

"I've got plenty of your clothes here, hen." And sure enough, from his own bag, Johnny produced a shirt and a pair of underwear, both belonging to Ghost.

"Bloody thief." Ghost whispers as he allows Johnny to take his dirty shirt off him. He caught a whiff of it as it was pulled over his head, damn thing was mingin.

With the shirt out of his way Ghost could see their audience had the decency to turn around. Good. Johnny took his underwear next, and while he didn't mind changing in the same room as his sergeants, he didn't need them gawking at him. As soon as his underwear was in place, Ghost grabbed Johnny from behind and pulled him back down. He removed his mask and buried his face in Johnny's hair.

"Siiimooon." Johnny unabashedly whined. "This isn't my bed." Ghost looked up to see Roach shifting from foot to foot, looking at them.

'That's my bed, sir.' Roach signed fearfully. Ghost was aware. He glared over Johnny's head, snapped his fingers and pointed towards what was apparently Johnny's bed. Roach nodded and scrambled towards it.

"Arsehole." Johnny chided him. Ghost barely heard it. He hummed in response. He was comfortable, warm, not clean but at least stripped of his gear and dirty clothes. Only one thing left he really needed, other occupants of the room be damned.

"Johnny?" He mumbled sleepily.

"Aye, love?"

"Talk to me?"

And he did. Ghost could feel the rumble of Johnny's words through his arms, wrapped tightly around his love's chest. And he nodded off thinking about how nice it would be to have him around more.

[wannab-urs]

Quickie

Prompt #423 “This is so wrong.” / “I know. And I love it.”

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: You and Frankie have to hurry before your mom gets home.

Warnings: explicit smut, creampie, step dad!frankie WC: 555

a/n: Today's prompt fill! It's pure porn lol. Unedited, as usual.

Frankie Morales Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi | Prompt Fills

“This is so wrong,” Frankie whispers against your mouth. 

“I know. And I love it.” 

You press your mouth back into Frankie’s, your hands finding his belt in between you and unfastening it. You slip your hands into his boxers, fingers closing around his already hard cock. 

“Your mom could come back any second,” Frankie mutters, but his hands slip underneath your shirt anyway. You bite down on his lip before pulling back just slightly. 

“Better be quick, then.” 

He grabs your hips and turns you around, bending you over the kitchen table. He yanks your pants down, two of his thick fingers slipping between your soaked folds. 

“Fuck, papi, please,” you whine.

“Please what, hermosa?” 

“More. Please.” 

Frankie presses two fingers into you, stroking your walls and stretching you out to take his cock. You moan and push back into him, practically riding his fingers. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl, I can’t wait any longer,” Frankie groans, removing his fingers from you and lining himself up with your cunt. 

“It’s okay, papi. Please. Need you,” you pant. You drop your forehead to the table and push your ass back toward him, trying to take him inside you. 

Frankie pushes into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. You don’t want to wait anymore. You reach behind you and grab his open pants, dragging him into you. Your moan is a broken, strangled thing. It hurts but it feels so fucking good. 

“Fuck, baby girl. Impaciente, no?” 

“Just please fuck me, papi.” 

Frankie draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein in his cock, before slamming back into you so hard your hips slam into the table. He grips your shoulder in one hand and your hip in the other, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. 

You’re trying to hold back from screaming on the off chance your mom comes home, but it’s so hard. Frankie feels so fucking good. You drag his hand off your hip and down between your legs. He takes the hint and starts rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. 

Your knees nearly buckle, but Frankie wraps his other arm around your torso, holding you steady as he pounds into you. 

“‘M gonna come, papi. Please can I come?” 

“Sí, sí. Come on, baby girl, lemme feel you,” Frankie pants. 

He curls his body over yours as you begin to clench hard around his cock. He groans in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement. You come hard, fingers clawing at the table for purchase as you writhe in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Where?”

“Inside,” you cry out, still riding the wave of pleasure. 

Frankie slams his hips against yours one more time and buries himself deep inside you as he comes with a long moan. 

You hear the garage door opening, ruining any chance you had of relishing this moment. You both scramble to get your clothes back in place. Frankie makes it look like he’s making a snack while you open your laptop at the table and start working on a fic. 

“Hey guys!” Your mom plants a kiss on Frankie’s cheek and sets her purse on the counter. 

You can feel your step dad’s cum leaking out of you as you ask your mom about her day.

@creativepromptfills

[yayakoishii]

Before I send my request your way lemme tell you how much I loved reading your recent Sanji Fics!! I enjoyed them a lot!!

And as for a request, I don't have anything specific but a vague scenario in my head. The strawhats dock at a lone mysterious island. And they as usual disperse off to do their own things when Sanji happens to stumble upon the reader. Perhaps caught in some trouble, going around with a hidden identity? I'm sorry this is cringe. But it's been in my head for a while now. Whether this ends up interesting you or not, I just wanted you to know, it's been a lot of fun reading you! Have a good day! Or night :D

Unfortunate Encounters | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 5,997 (that's practically 6k)

Genre: Light Fluff, more Angst, happy ending ofc!

Warnings: Plot heavy, light swearing. Slightly ooc crew maybe? I'm still new to writing for OP, please excuse any mistakes!

A/n: First off, thank you so much for the sweet words anon ;-; they really made my day <3 As for the request, this was not cringe at all!! I got super into it and I had like 3-4 mental drafts of how this fic could go (the og ending was even more angsty lol, but I decided to cut back...) I may have focused too much on the 'lone, mysterious island' part because this was more plot heavy than romantic. The inner plot writer in me emerged because of your prompt; I'm not a romance writer so I struggle with that in this fic >< However, I did enjoy writing it so I hope you enjoy this one too! Thanks for sending such a fun request ❤️

also available on ao3!

The log pose had brought them to another island, but even before they had touched down, Sanji could feel something was up with it. The island just gave off some vibes he couldn't place and he wasn't one to chalk it off to a mistake. His intuition told him something was going to happen here.

"There doesn't seem to be a town here," Nami frowned, looking at the island. All they could see for miles and miles was a dense tropical forest, with trees that seemed larger than their usual size. When they got off the Thousand Sunny, Sanji realised that it was too silent. There were no sounds of birds or any animals that he could hear from the shoreline. "Be careful, guys."

They decided to separate and cover the island quicker. The log pose needed time to reset and it was a curious little island anyway. They could cover it within a day, maximum. Something in Sanji's gut twisted in protest but until he could explain it, there was no way he could stop the chaotic crew. So he let it be and started hacking a path to somewhere.

The trees were dense and the forest was dark, lit up on random intervals by sudden sunbeams that looked like nature's spotlights. Sanji hummed to himself as he studied the plants around him. He walked for a while, noting all the things he could use but not picking anything because the island just rubbed him off the wrong way. It felt dangerous to pick any part of it.

Sanji walked for a while, pausing only when he felt he had heard something – something that sounded like a rustle of leaves, but he couldn't sense a person. He couldn't sense anything but the wind, a gentle breeze drifting through the trees. Strangely, he had not yet come across any of the other Straw Hats either, even though he had been walking for well over an hour and the island wasn't that big in the first place.

There was another rustling, but this time, Sanji could feel a presence. Multiple ones, to be precise. He tensed and cautiously moved aside the curtain of vines blocking his views. The clearing revealed in front of him shocked him– it was like all the animals of the entire island had gathered in one place. And they were all looking at something that he couldn't see.

The moment he stepped in, the animals all turned to him, some of them baring teeth or growling and it was so much sound after so much silence that even Sanji couldn't help the shiver running along his back. A human shout of, "It's okay guys! I'm okay now!" distracted the animals and they turned back to whatever– or rather, whoever, they had been looking at.

Sanji held back, not quite sure what to make of the whole situation, until he heard a barely audible, "Disperse."

Almost like a flip was switched, the animals scattered and Sanji was left incredulously staring at the vines in the middle of the clearing, from where a figure gracefully jumped down. You straightened up and patted at your hair to check for any stray leaves or twigs before you walked over to him.

"An intruder?" You asked, smiling amusedly. "Been a while since we had one."

"That's a harsh word, beautiful," Sanji couldn't hold himself back from calling you that way, after he had gotten over his shock enough to note your features.

"Would you prefer 'uninvited guest'?" You cocked an eyebrow, not cutting eye contact as you straightened out your clothes.

"Ah, you hurt my poor heart," he said, a little bit dramatically as he leaned closer but still at a respectable distance. "Am I unwelcome in your home, goddess of these woods?"

"Wh-?" You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips at his words. "You're quite something, alright. And as fun as you are, you really are unwelcome here, sorry."

"Why?" Sanji asked curiously. The entire experience felt like some weird fever dream to him, and he couldn't quite make head or tails of anything that was happening but the one thing he was sure of was that there was something about you that piqued his curiosity in all the ways.

"You can't stay on this island," you shrugged and walked past him, expecting him to follow you. Sanji did not fail, falling in step behind you as you started walking somewhere. "2 days, that's all you get. Any longer and… well, it's better if you don't find out."

"Alright, then I guess I'll let my crew know," Sanji sighed, figuring he wasn't getting any more out of you after seeing your guarded expression. The moment he finished his sentence though, you froze in your step and turned around to face him in horror.

"Did you just say… crew?" Your voice sounded a little hoarse and Sanji paused, looking at you in concern. "Please tell me your crew is not on the island."

"If I said that, it would be a lie, sweetheart," Sanji's brows furrowed even as he said it. Something was wrong. Your expression melted into one of full-blown panic, anger and horror.

"Not again!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"What's wrong?" Sanji would really, really like some answers today. The entire day had been confusing and eerie vibes and the growing chill in his stomach was now an unnecessary addition.

"What's wrong," you snapped, looking wild and terrified for a second, "is that your entire crew is fucking loose on a cursed island! If they do not get off this island in 3 nights, they will turn into animals and never, ever turn back to humans."

Sanji just stared at you for a few seconds before he dropped the unlit cigarette he had pulled out of his pocket. You were pacing around in circles and he had so many questions that he didn't even know where to begin.

"Then I'll just tell them when we all meet back?" He said unsurely except you turned to face him with eyes full of unshed tears.

"That's a great plan," you said a little sarcastically, "except for the part where this island is cursed and anyone who isn't an animal can't find their way out. Ever. They literally cannot find the way back on their own."

Sanji's jaw dropped. He stared back at you in equal parts horror.

"This has to be the Moss Head's curse spreading," he whispered to himself.

Half an hour later, the two of you were making your way through the dense foliage, exchanging questions and answers– although Sanji was the one doing the asking the most.

You had calmed down after finding out that the crew only had 9 members. You could probably find 8 people in less than 3 days. The island wasn't that big.

Sanji's first question was about how you weren't affected by the curse.

"Because I'm not fully human," you had replied off-handedly and not offered more. It only added to your mystery but despite all your secrets, Sanji could somehow feel inside him that you weren't a bad person. You were going out of your way to help out so that their crew won't turn into animals– if the curse didn't affect you, then you could have very well done nothing.

Then he asked about the other things on his mind. Were the animals in the forest also humans? To his horror, you had replied with a sad yes.

"The log pose doesn't take pirates to this island much," you had explained as you expertly and gracefully made your way over the thorny plants and overgrown roots. Your movement was almost like a mystical dance and Sanji couldn't take his eyes off of it, thankful that you were walking in front of him and couldn't see his ogling. "It's rare but it happens sometimes. Mostly single man boats tossed through storms end up here, but there's been two small crews who came here after me. There were already some animals on the island before though, and I'm pretty sure they were once humans too."

"And there's no cure for this?" Sanji swallowed, his heart hammering from a weird mix of fear, nervousness and excitement.

"Nothing as far as I know," you confirmed, pausing to close your eyes and feel something. "That direction, I can sense someone."

You ran over without waiting for Sanji and he was left to catch up by taking long strides. Before he could show himself though, he felt the presence close in on you and automatically moved in to defend you. His boots rammed against the blunt hilt of a familiar katana.

"Love cook?" Zoro's eyes widened in surprise and he immediately tucked his swords back in. Sanji ignored him in favour of ensuring that you were okay. He found you staring behind him curiously at Zoro, as if the swordsman fascinated you. It didn't mean anything, but it left him feeling a little irritated at Zoro. "Who's this?"

"Um." Sanji realised he had never asked you for your name. Or given you his.

"Inconsequential," you waved it off. "It's not like we're to know each other longer than a day or two. Let's just go and search for the rest. Blondie here can explain everything to you on the way."

"Sanji," he blurted out, reeling back when he saw your surprised face. "Forgive my insolence, sweetheart. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Vimsoke Sanji."

"Well, Sanji," you smiled at him, already walking like you knew where you were going, "get your friend to join us and follow me."

Gladly, his heart answered for him.

✿

You knew this was a mistake. It never ended well when you met other people and liked them. And as you collected more of the Straw Hats, you couldn't help but like them all more and more. You knew this was a mistake, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret it because you knew that if you didn't help them, they would be cursed too.

You had eventually acquiesced and given them your first name, careful not to offer your last name in case any of them recognised you. Zoro seemed to be staring at you quite frequently, but maybe it was just a Straw Hat thing? Sanji had been staring at you the whole time too. Or maybe you looked hideous and they were all politely staying quiet. You didn't quite know, but the thought of looking terrible in front of them (in front of that beautiful blonde boy) was a little mortifying to you.

All those thoughts took a backseat though, because you were on a mission. By the time evening rolled around and the sky had turned to pitch black darkness, you had found a cyborg and a rubber man called Luffy, who was the captain of the ship. He didn't really feel like a captain, or somebody who commanded everyone, but the Straw Hats didn't seem like a typical group of people. They were… unique.

"Let's stop for tonight," you said after assessing the darkness. Of course, you could see everything clearly even in the darkness, but they didn't need to know that. The less they knew about you…

"Shouldn't we keep going?" Zoro asked, looking around.

"Trust me, we're better off waiting the night out," you answered, already settling into the clearing for the night. You had to get a fire going and find food and there were things to be done.

"So I can't eat the animals?" Luffy pouted for the fifth time, asking the same question.

"No, Luffy," you sighed, waving a stick at him. "They might look like animals, but they are people. Please don't kill them or try to eat them."

"They won't attack our crewmates, would they?" Sanji asked, looking worried. You finally managed to light a fire and carefully structured a ring of stones around it to ensure it won't get out before answering.

"The curse lets them have their brain for most of the time," you fidgeted on the spot. "But sometimes, if you harm them, or if they get really hungry, or, y'know… their animal instincts kick in and then they are more animal than human. But it's rare, and won't happen if you don't harm their survival."

The crew fell silent and you watched them whisper amongst themselves a bit. They probably wanted to talk things out, so you got up and said you would go grab something to eat.

"Please don't leave this clearing," you warned them as you walked away. "Finding you again would be so much trouble."

You heard footsteps following you though and turned around to find Sanji trailing behind you.

"Sanji?" You asked, confused. His tall, lanky figure in the forefront of the golden orange light spilling from the fire you started was a picturesque scenery that left your heart thumping a little louder than usual.

"Would you be okay with some company?" He asked quietly. "I'm a chef, so I could probably help you gather some food."

"Alright," you nodded. The two of you walked a while in silence until you found the spot where there were a bunch of large fruits and flowers that you started gathering. Sanji observed what you collected in the little moonlight that was shining through the trees, but you could see him struggling.

"You can see in the dark?" He asked after a beat of silence.

"Mm," you were exhausted from the day. Lying and avoiding things was tiring as it is, and you really weren't in the mood to play the game. If Sanji knew who you were… would it really be that bad? He had been kind so far, always at a respectable distance but with honeyed sweet words that tugged at your heartstrings. You had never had anyone flirt with you, but Sanji was the first. And it left you feeling giddy and warm, the attention he gave you without losing any of the respect and your need for secrecy. If he knew… would he hate you?

Sanji didn't say anything for a while, just offered up his arms for you to stack all the food you had collected.

"Who else is remaining?" You asked, finding the silence was eating at your insides. You had spent so long in silence. And now that you had people around again, you wanted to make the most of it before they had to leave. Just for a while, you could forget and pretend that you're one of them. Just for a while.

"Nami-san, Robin-san," Sanji said, "Brook and Chopper. Wait, Chopper!"

Sanji clapped his hands like he had just thought of something. You looked at him curiously.

"Chopper is a reindeer," Sanji said hurriedly.

"You have a reindeer in your crew…?" You were confused. The Straw Hats were definitely one of a kind, alright.

"He ate the Hito Hito no Mi so he can talk and walk," Sanji explained. "He's our doctor but that's not important right now. He's an animal, right? So he wouldn't be affected by the curse?"

"Highly likely that he isn't," you confirmed.

"Which means he must be the only one back on the ship," Sanji murmured to himself. That's one person (animal?) less to search for, you mused. "He must be scared."

"I hope he's okay," you said quietly. The animals on the island knew each other well. If Chopper ran into them… You didn't really know what would happen. Animals could be scary when they were territorial.

The two of you finished collecting as much as you could carry and walked back, and you asked Sanji to tell you about their adventures. He indulged you, colouring a vivid and humorous picture of the crew in the short while it took you two to get back.

You came back to find Zoro sleeping on his side while Luffy was springing around in the clearing, howling about being hungry and crying for Sanji. Franky sat against a tree, fiddling with something on his body that you didn't wait to see despite your curiosity.

As Sanji started portioning the food to serve to everyone, you stood back and watched the crew interact quietly. It was strange, how at home you felt with them despite not knowing them– but you attributed it to your loneliness.

Even if you wanted to be one of them, you could never curse them like that.

The next morning, you found Nami at the top of a tree. You had seen her when gathering some flowers for breakfast, asleep. You decided to get Sanji to recognise her before you woke her up and got her down. Seeing Sanji fawn and fret over her made you insanely jealous; but you forced it down under a smile and led them back to the camp that had already been cleared up.

You gave the crew a few minutes to catch up and celebrate before you started the search again.

"So…" you searched for a topic as the six of you trudged through the forest. "A reindeer, a cyborg, a gum man, an ex-pirate hunter… Who should I expect next?"

"A skeleton!" Luffy excitedly yelled as he swung past you on the vines, nearly making you stumble from the shock.

"A… what?!" You turned to stare at Sanji in shock, who just smiled softly and shrugged.

"Brook is…" he explained the whole story without getting tired and you couldn't help but be fascinated by everything. The more you learned about them, the more they intrigued you, the more you wanted to beg them to let you join them. But you didn't let those thoughts come to life in words, just helping them find the said skeleton from where he was surrounded by some of the island's animals growling at him.

"Down, guys," you shouted and the animals immediately backed off, all staring at you with innocent eyes that made you huff in laughter. "Don't pull that on me, I just saw you. I know you mean well but it's a little scary when you're surrounded by animals."

One of the deer whined and bumped its snout into your hand. You could feel the Straw Hats staring as you petted it and whispered it to leave the skeleton to you. When the animals had dispersed, you shot a grin at Brook.

"Hi there!" You held out a hand, "It's my first time meeting a skeleton!"

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, you started covering the northern part of the island. It was the only place remaining, aside from the centre. You found Usopp and Chopper there, the two of them hugging each other and bawling.

As it turned out, Chopper had in fact gone back after finding nothing on the island only to find out that no one else had returned. So he had stayed the night in the ship and then came back in search of the others even though he was scared.

"That was very brave of you," you patted him on the head. The reindeer blushed and glared at you.

"I'm not pleased by that at all!!" So he said, but you could see the smile on his face. With almost all of them collected, you started your way to the centre of the island when you heard the clouds rumble.

The sky was full of grey clouds and you were ready for rain, since this was the season on the island.

"There's an underground cave near here," you told the crew as you led them through the thick canopy of trees. "I usually go there when it rains so let's wait it out before we search for… Robin, was it?"

Zoro grumbled something about constant waiting but you chose to ignore it. You knew this island better than any of them. Rains were harsh and the droplets were like bullets on the skin. You couldn't find Robin on the way to the cave but when you reached its opening which looked like a hole in the ground, surrounded by overgrown grass, you felt a presence inside.

The last Straw Hat member was inside the cave, much to all of your relief. This time, you truly stepped back and let the crew reunite, feeling like a true outcast for the first time. Your time together with them was over. Once the rain was gone, they would be out of here and you would be alone again.

Except Sanji turned to you and offered you his hand to invite you into their awkward group hug that Usopp had initiated. You didn't want to intrude but they all looked at you with similar grins and smiles and you couldn't hold it back. You joined them, savouring your first hug in years.

✿

As it turned out, the runes you had found on one of the walls of the cave actually had some sort of meaning that Robin had been able to decipher in the while she had spent in the cave. She had apparently found the cave the previous night and stayed in, then worked on the runes in the morning when she found them.

"It's about a curse on this island," she explained. "Like (y/n) already told us, if anyone spends 3 nights on this island, it turns them into an animal forever. There's a piece of it missing at the end, but the last line says 'the answer lies in the satisfaction of life and a prayer answered'."

"What does that mean?" you asked, confused.

"I'm not really sure," she admitted, running her fingers over the runes. The whole crew mulled over the words as you waited for the rain to stop. You didn't join into the conversation, just letting your mind work quietly with their suggestions as background.

Satisfaction in life… A prayer answered… None of it seemed to make sense. The Straw Hats didn't need to help the animals out, but they were still trying to figure it out. The crew was clearly good at heart and you were glad that you helped them out, even though you would only be left with hurt after they were gone. That pain was worth it.

A squirrel scampered up to you while you listened; the rain outside seemed to be slowing down. You knew the squirrel was the girl around your age who had ended up on the island after a shipwreck. You scooped her up and let her sit on your hand, where she tried to shake off the water from her soaking body. The water sprinkled onto you and you let out a fake indignant "hey!" that made her laugh. Not that you had ever seen squirrels laugh, but you could always understand the animals on the island.

"We found something here," you said quietly to her, bringing her close to wipe off some of the water from her body. "It could be an answer to turning you all back to humans."

She tilted her head and stared at you.

"But none of us understand the riddle," you continued, feeling apologetic to them. You had been the only person on the island who was unaffected by the curse, so you felt like it was somehow your responsibility to help them all turn back. And yet, you had failed at that over and over again. Saira, as the girl's name had been, simply shook her squirrel head and placed a tiny paw on your chest where you had tucked her close.

"It's alright," you could hear her saying in your head. To the others, it probably sounded like a bunch of squeaks. "It's not that bad. I long gave up hope of turning back. Being a squirrel is not that bad. Being able to spend everyday with you who looks out for all of us… I'm happy. All of us are."

Your chest swelled with the emotions and for the first time in a long while, tears streamed down your cheeks. You had held it all in for so long, not wanting to burden the helpless creatures that always kept you company. But knowing their faith in and love for you made your insides warm.

"All we want is for you to be happy too," Saira continued, turning her head to look at the crew. You glanced at them, noticing that Sanji was looking over at you two. "I know you. Go with them."

"I can't," you said in a choked whisper. "Even if they let me, I can't do that to them. I'm not… I'm a curse, Saira. I can't risk it."

The squirrel looked at you helplessly as you cried a little more. Eventually, you wiped away the tears and let your eyes shut to listen to the pitter patter of rain outside. Saira scrambled off your body and over to Sanji, who had watched you the whole while but hadn't heard what you had said.

When you opened your eyes, the rain had stopped. You looked around blearily, and found the Straw Hats all lying around, looking upset.

"You guys should have woken me up when the rain stopped," you said, rubbing your face as you stood up. "Come on, you must be missing your ship, yeah?"

"(Y/n)," Sanji started, looking a little nervous. You looked at him quizzically, but Zoro spoke up before he could say what he wanted.

"Or should we say Kuroneko no (Y/n)?" The familiar words made you freeze in horror. "Harbinger of Death? A 30 million bellies bounty."

"That's…" You took an involuntary step back, bumping into the cave wall. They knew. They knew the secret you had tried so hard to hide. They knew… and they were still looking at you with badly hidden curiosity and grins. None of them looked scared, or upset anymore, like they had been when you were asleep. "I'm… I don't want to lie. That's me. But I swear, I'm not going to do anything. I mean, I don't even actually do anything, all of those incidents just happened–"

"(Y/n)," Sanji placed a hand atop your head, effectively stopping your rambling. You looked up at him, afraid to see him look at you differently, but if anything, his eyes had only become softer. "It's okay. I wish you had told us before, but we get it."

"You do…?" Somehow, it felt too good to be true. People were usually upset when others lied and kept secrets. The secret of who you were could essentially have been a matter of life or death. Kuroneko no (y/n), or rather, Black Cat (y/n) was a name based on your Devil Fruit powers that let you turn into a cat. But they were also a result of you being the only survivor in 4 separate incidents– the annihilation of your home island, the mass genocide in a war town country and the two small crews you had once been a part of. Every single time, all the people had died and you were the only one alive left behind. You had never belonged anywhere, so how could you believe now would be any different?

"It must have been very lonely," Robin's sorrowful eyes reflected that she understood you on some level. You didn't know what to think or feel, unwilling to let yourself hope for anything beyond acceptance.

"It was," you admitted, more to yourself than to them. You had never let yourself truly dwell on the thought, but you had been so, so lonely. "I won't stick around for long. I'll take you to your ship and you'll be free of this island's curse, and of my own. So if–"

"Your curse?" Sanji looked at you, confused.

"It's not exactly a curse," you hesitated, "but there's nothing else I can call it for why… the people I care for end up dead."

"That's not true," Luffy frowned, walking over to you. "Everyone here is still alive. Everyone on this island is alive, we are alive. You are not cursed."

"You were like a blessing in disguise," Usopp said from where he stood, not looking you in the eyes. "I was of course not afraid at all, considering my heavy list of achievements, but you brought us all back together."

"I'm…" you didn't know what to say, feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not cursed, sweetheart," Sanji gently held up your hand, squeezing it to comfort you. "You just had a string of… unfortunate events."

Sanji's struggle to find the right term made you let out a small giggle. Maybe you should extend a hand. Maybe this time…

"Maybe I'm not cursed?" You said hopefully, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Sanji nodded, carefully tucking back a lock of hair behind your ear. The action made you flush, suddenly realising the proximity you two were in.

A flash of light startled all of you and you turned around to find Saira, the human, standing in the place of where the squirrel was. The girl was staring at her own hands and body, like this was a dream. You blinked, unable to believe your eyes either.

Outside the cave, you could hear shouts. Human shouts.

"What just-?" You ran out to find the people who had been turned into animals were back to human. "How…"

"Satisfaction of life and a prayer answered," Robin's voice from behind you was startling. You turned to look at her, and she smiled down at you. "Perhaps the answer was just for the animals to be happy with who they are, with no regrets."

"Then… Then why didn't it change them back before?" You said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps their prayer wasn't answered back then," she placed a hand on your shoulder and patted it. Did she mean that it only happened now because your one wish through life had been answered? To be free of the curse you had…

With much enthusiasm, the crew got out of the underground cave and everyone was celebrating. The sight of everyone back made you feel like this was the happiest day of your life. You participated in it, letting yourself enjoy the moment without worrying or thinking of anything.

The sun was already setting when the party started and it went on for hours as everyone laughed and danced and ate. (If you were fascinated by how much Luffy could eat, you kept it to yourself to be polite.) It was probably getting close to midnight when Sanji sought you out to where you were sitting by yourself and just watching everyone with fond eyes.

He didn't say a word at first, just sat down next to you. At that distance, you could feel the warmth of his body and you subconsciously leaned closer to the source. For the first time in a long while, your heart felt at peace.

"How did you end up on this island?" Sanji's question made you look over at him. He wasn't demanding an answer, just looking down at you with deep blue eyes that seemed to flash golden as they reflected the bonfire.

"I was on the run from the Marines around a year ago," you hummed, feeling safe and comfortable enough in his presence to finally talk about yourself. After years of not being able to share anything with anyone, it felt freeing to tell him something even as simple as this. "I had just escaped the battle between the crew I was in and this one big pirate ship that I don't even remember anymore. I was wounded but I reached this island on a small boat somehow with a half broken log pose. I shifted into my cat form, which looks less like a cat and more like a black jaguar if anything, to ensure that no one recognised me– because my full transformation is not known by the Marines. I stayed in that form for quite a while, too scared and shaken at that time to turn back into human. Only after a few days of exploring the island did I realise there are no humans here.

"I thought… if there was any place I could not affect anyone with my curse, it would be here. Away from any humans who would get affected by it. At that time, I didn't know about the curse. Looking back on it, I suspect that maybe the curse never affected me because I was in my animal form for 3 nights. Or maybe it was just because that form is like my second skin. I was never disappointed or dissatisfied with it. I only found out about the curse after Saira came on the island and turned into a squirrel. And then two other pirate crews."

"That must have been hard for you," Sanji's voice was quiet but there was no way you could miss the low timbre of it over the excitement all around you. Not when it was the same voice that set your heart off; you wanted to hear everything he had to say. Wanted to know him more and more, as much as he would let you. "(Y/n)-chan."

"Mm?" You turned to look at him, breathless at the proximity from where you could no longer smell the perfume he smelled of the first time you met. The smell coming off him now was something purely him. It was a little intoxicating when coupled with the warm atmosphere and the gooey feeling in your stomach.

"Would you… like to join us?" Sanji seemed a little nervous asking you that. The question gobsmacked you and you stared at him. He… wanted you to join them? As a part of the crew? "I asked Luffy and he said that if you want it, then he's all for it."

"Sanji…" you bit your lower lip, unsure once again. Even though you felt free of the curse, the mentality couldn't be erased in a day. The what ifs, the fear, the apprehension was all still there. "What if we're wrong, though? What if I really am cursed and this has just been a really long build-up to something worse? I might be a risk to your–"

"You're not," Sanji interrupted you for the first time since you had met. The quiet but firm determination blazing in his eyes surprised you. "I believe in you. (Y/n)-chan, if you would let me, I would gladly prove it to you by staying by your side for the rest of your life. I'll stay alive and well, and show you that it's not your fault. I'll be by your side to the very end, so place your fears in my hands and… trust me on this, even if you don't trust anything else."

That little crush you had developed on him at the start seemed to blow up in that moment into a gigantic furnace of emotions. He was ready to take the risk of death, and saying every word with such sincerity that any inhibitions you had went out the window. You couldn't stop yourself from wanting him any longer– he was like the sun, taking your world by storm.

"Really?" You didn't realise when the tears started streaming down your face until his gentle hands came up to wipe them. "You'll stay?"

"I will," and that genuine sincerity was something you couldn't help but believe in. "I will be there for you, as long as you need me."

"Sanji." His name felt both urgent and at ease from your lips.

"(Y/n)-chan," he whispered, voice open and vulnerable again. "Do you… want to be a part of the Straw Hats?"

You swallowed and wondered if you really deserved this much happiness after everything. Yet the moment you looked into his eyes, you felt like there was nothing you could do but be a moth chasing the sun– running after something that you knew will only end up in flames.

"I do."

°•❀•°

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us Chapter 19

Nothingness, but shining.

AO3 || Masterlist

A/N: sooo im being a little ambitious and adding a whole other subplot now lol. Let's see where this whole thing goes lolololol

Thanks as always to @cheesy-cryptid for blessing this story that came from me seeing their art ❤️

Also wanna thank my besties @micropoe10 @mj-bites and @tragedybunny for letting me pick their brains, for soothing me when the insecurities crop up, and for adding their flavor to my brain soup. I love you guys so much.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus

@davenswitcher @wayward-hel

@hereliesblackdragon @misscrissfemmefatale

(lemme know if you wanna be added!)

Octavia easily slid back into her role at work after coming back from Wyvern Hills; it had been difficult to concentrate lately with everything that she had come to learn. She sat at her desk, drifting in and out of the current conversation.

The black ink from Octavia’s pen danced around the piece of paper in front of her, mindlessly circling the notes Gale had given her.

It had been about a week that she had been back, and it was difficult to take herself out of the turmoil brewing inside her. On one hand, she started to know Astarion as a sweet man, reserved and private, but kind; and on the other, her eyes were opened to some of the struggles he had gone through. She couldn't imagine the horrors he endured, the loneliness he brought into himself, and the things that brought him to where he is now.

He was a mystery she hoped to uncover on her own terms, but whether or not he would let her in was a different situation altogether. She blankly stared at the ink spot on the page that grew with each pass of her hand.

“Octavia?...hellooo???? OCTAVIA!” Gale’s voice cut through her empty thoughts.

Octavia snaps out of her mind, immediately reminded that she's at work right now, and Gale doesn't look too pleased with her at this moment. “Did you hear anything I just said? Look, this is important, and I need you to pay attention. Now, as I was saying…”

Gale’s voice trails off as Octavia loses herself in her thoughts yet again. She tried to get a hold of herself, but with the heaviness of the information swirling in her head, it was beginning to get harder and harder to keep everything to herself.

“Anyway, my sister is getting married and she wants to have her entire wedding HERE! I don't think I can convince Astarion to do that, he's too precious about the museum. It's his raison d’etre, you know? It would be like asking him to trust us with his first born child.”

Gale drops his head to his desk, his fingers intertwined in his hair in a frustrated grip. “My sister Athena is not the kind to take no for an answer, and I know her and her fiance” Gale spits out the word with seething disdain, “are going to make my life a bigger nightmare than they already have! Could you help me talk to him? He’ll listen to you more than anyone else, and he's been a HUGE pain since you’ve been away, please Octavia? I'm begging you!”

Gale lifted up his head, his brows furrowed in a worried way, his eyes were heavy and tired, and his lip was in a little pout. Octavia stared at him with a puzzled look, she quietly asks “He has? Wait a minute, you have a sister? Does Astarion know her too?”

Gale sits up with a quick movement, he rolls his eyes and he frowns deeply. “YES! He’s been so insufferable, it's as if everything I suggest is poison in his ears.” He pouts and slumps back down in his chair, “And no, I didn't think it was a good idea to introduce them before talking to him. Shes…uh..well..” he hesitates, his eyes nervously glanced left and right, he brings his hands together and fidgets with his fingers.

“Gale, she can't be that bad right?” Octavia says calmly. Gale stares at her, the lines on his forehead sinking deeper. “Right?” she asks again. Gale’s frown grows as he swallows, “Well, she's not not an asshole…..” Octavia grimaces, “Oh no, they're going to rip each other apart aren't they?”

Gale groans loudly, placing his head back on his desk. “The worst part is, she's marrying my academy rival, Sirilus Szerban Amarzian.” his voice was full of irritation. “You know he always says it like that too, all smugly and condescending. Of course she had to marry him, we both come from wizarding families so they had to keep it traditional or whatever. He's Rolan’s grandson. You know, Rolan, Master of Razamith’s Tower? Let's just say our grandfathers were not too fond of each other. ”

“Oh yeah?” Octavia tried to hide her intrigue, but when Gale glared back up at her, she had a feeling she failed.

“Yes, Octavia. It's an old family misunderstanding over my grandfather stealing The Annals of Karsus from the vault underneath the tower. Also, allegedly something else about Gale suggesting a fix to Roland when a flashing lights cantrip wasn't working the way Rolan wanted at a party the tieflings had thrown. Gale was apparently already somewhat drunk and went up to Rolan and said something like ‘You call that a cantrip? Step aside and let a chosen of Mystra show you how it's done!’ but I call bullshit!”

Gale bristled a bit and continued, “I'm pretty sure it was when Tav and Gale helped save some people who got captured in Moonrise Towers and it just so happened that Rolan’s siblings were part of that crew. Rolan said some pretty mean things to Tav and Gale stepped in to calm things down, Rolan said something like ‘Oh and Mystra’s ex boy toy finally speaks!’ and well, Gale took that personally of course. I mean who wouldn't?”

“Uh huh…and how does that concern you and Sirilius? I mean they were old men when the two of you were in school.” Octavia responds, she knows she may be opening a floodgate, but she was glad to have something to take her mind off her own family drama.

Gale takes a deep breath, he holds it in for a couple of seconds before exhaling out slowly. “Sirilius and I used to be really good friends, I would even say we were best friends, or at least I thought we were. He and I knew about the stupid fight our ancestors had and still got along so well. Until we had a disagreement about something, I don't even remember what, but what I will never forget what he said to me. ‘Maybe Rolan was right about you, you're just as much of an arrogant know it all prick like your grandfather was.’”

He sighs, “That was the last time I had spoken to him… Athena knew how hurt I was about the whole thing, I mean we were friends until the last couple of years in our studies. That's when he got extremely competitive against me, vowed to prove that he came from stronger magics than I. Even though he knew I wanted to go into artifact preservation, he wanted to make me know that I was beneath him.” Gale frowns, his body drops and his shoulders slump down.

“All I ever wanted was a friend who understood the uniqueness of being from a well known lineage. To have that kind of comradery with someone who has a similar experience. It wasn't until I met you that I got that, Octavia. So you see, it felt like a kind of betrayal from my sister, picking him and our familial expectations over me. I know she didn't, obviously, but it felt like it.” Gale placed his hands on his face, Octavia rolled her chair over to his side of their desks and gave him a hug.

She could feel Gale’s body tense up, slowly recover, and return the hug. “It's okay, Gale. I will gladly help you. It's the least I can do for you.” Octavia patted Gale’s back, a small sigh followed by him pulling away from her, she could see the wave of relief flood over him. “Thank you. I owe you. Uh…I was actually going to go speak to Astarion after the museum closed, do you mind staying back so we could meet with him together?”

Octavia blinks in shock, she didn't feel quite ready to go speak to Astarion, but with Gale in tow he would have to be professional and subdued. She nods to Gale, who smiled wide in return. “Okay, I have to prepare for it. I have to get hold of Athena so she can send me her pictures and inspiration board, food, flowers…”

Gale turns to his desk and scribbles something onto a piece of paper. Then, he walks up to the window and opens it, he speaks some words and moves his hands around, conjuring up a white and gray spotted bird. He ties the little note to its leg along with a small pouch he ties around its body.

“Okay, Ellie, can you bring this to Athena and come back to me before the end of operating hours? I left very specific instructions for her, so if she tries to have you come back with a ton of stuff, don't let her unless she reduces it and puts it in the little pouch. Be good with Archie, alright? Safe flight, kid.”

Ellie takes off as Gale waves them away, he turns around and laughs as he notices Octavia’s wide eyed stare. “You can make a bird? And it listens to you? That's pretty cool!” she exclaims. Gale smiles with a proud beam, he nods and closes the window halfway.

“Yeah! Ellie is a sea osprey, they're captivating and quite abundant in Waterdeep! Athena and I both had familiars we conjured as children. Ellie’s mine and Athena had Archie, who is a fish owl. We would send Ellie and Archie out to hunt when we would practice our spells. I couldn't bring her around my grandfather's tower because of Tara, they never got along.”

Gale hugs Octavia one more time before walking up to the door of their office. “Thank you again, I need to take a walk and gather my thoughts for a bit before Athena responds. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

Octavia nods, “Yeah, good idea, I might go on a little break too. Lots of stuff to think about, you know?”

Gale perks up, “Oh! Do you want to join me? Maybe we can think of some ideas?”

Octavia hesitates a little before shaking her head “No thank you. I wanted to get some time to walk the halls again, I missed being here while I was in Wyvern Hills. See you later?”

“Yeah, have a nice walk in the halls.” Gale says as he slips out of the room, leaving Octavia alone in silence. She slides into her chair and stares at the ceiling. How would she be able to face Astarion and convince him that a wedding is a good idea to have in the museum??

Octavia closes her eyes and puts herself in Tav’s shoes. How was she able to not only deal with all the enemies coming her way, but now Octavia knows she also had to deal with Astarion as well.

Maybe she’d take that walk after all.

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

Octavia rounded the hallway with various statues.

She stops at the gallery full of beautifully carved marble. The lines of their forms were distracting her, reminding her of the night she and Astarion shared a couple of months ago.

His hands run up her stomach, the rough edges of his nails scrape along the peaks and valleys of her body. His own taught muscles glint with the glow of the firelight softly illuminating them as he dips his head between her legs. She gasps as she feels his other hand lower itself slowly between the slick of her core.

She felt herself flush, her body reacting with a low drop of her belly. Octavia gasps with a sharp inhale, and begins to walk a bit more briskly past the gallery towards the end of the hall.

You gotta get a hold of yourself, not only are you working, but Gale needs you to be there for him.

Octavia briskly walks up to the next gallery with the painting of Astarion. She takes a moment, standing in front of the opening leading to it. Her legs suddenly feel like they have a mind of their own, making her approach slowly towards its direction.

She takes a seat on the bench that is placed in front of it, and looks up at the wall. His sad eyes look down at her and she wonders how she kept telling herself that it wasn't him when it so clearly was. “How could I not see it?” She whispers to herself, eyes firmly stuck to his painted visage.

Octavia sat there, wondering what Astarion had gone through for all those years, how Tav must have felt when he left, so many memories forgotten and lost after she went through with the Unburdening. If Tav hadn't gone through with it, would Octavia even be here right now?

She leans back, feeling the cool stone of the bench underneath her. Octavia closes her eyes and lingers in the dull hushed murmurs of the museum. In her mind, she conjures up images of what she had read in the old, tattered journal.

Tav wrote about walking hand in hand with someone after fighting a spectator in the Underdark. She mentioned how fanciful their footwork was, how they shimmered like the star they were, obviously, Octavia knows now that Tav was speaking of Astarion. Octavia wishes she could see him like that. Covered in blood and grime but so beautiful.

“Having a rough day, my dear?”

Octavia’s eyes shoot open, she turns and faces the silky voice that came from behind her. “Astarion..hello..sorry I hadn't returned your notes when I came back. I’ve been, uh, catching up with a lot of things…Gale left me a lot of stuff..I should probably get back to it, actually.” She begins to stand, but he stops her, taking a seat next to her.

Astarion instinctively takes Octavia’s hand, kissing it before asking, “Wait, I'm sure you can take a bit of a break to catch up,right? How was your trip? I missed you terribly, you know.” he looked down at her with those gemlike eyes, voice softened to a low murmur. She couldn't help the way it made her knees weak and her heartbeat a little faster.

Octavia gasps softly, then clears her throat. She feels Astarion’s fingers intertwined in hers, the coolness of his touch a welcome contrast to her heated skin. “Darling? Are you okay?” Astarion leans in, whispering his inquiry to not draw attention towards them.

“Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking about things. I…uh…” Octavia hesitates for a moment, before deciding to continue on, “ I found a lot of my mom's personal stuff at my dad’s and there were some things in there that kind of shifted my reality about my family. A lot of things have changed for me, and I’m having trouble coming to terms with it all.”

Astarion scoots closer to her, pressing his shoulder against hers. His whole demeanor shifted to that of a giddy schoolgirl, “Oooh family drama? Sounds delightful! Anything interesting?” He glanced up at Octavia, who returns a mildly annoyed look. Astarion pulls back some, defensively sitting up straight. “From the sudden cloud of darkness cast over us, I would assume not. Do you want to talk about it? Or is this one of those instances where it would be best to forget?”

Octavia couldn't help the nervous laugh that came out of her mouth, she quickly turns away from Astarion, unlacing their hands and hides behind her hair. “Sorry, I..” she trips over her words, unsure of what she should say “I mean..I guess you could say that…part of me wants to keep digging into it all, find out more about why things happened in the past the way they did, but on the other hand…”

She trails off, her hands on her lap, looking at the painting again.

“It’s like that painting, I know I could spend my time figuring out who that is, but what would be the benefit at this point? They're either dead or don't want to be found. I feel like I should leave well enough alone. Maybe some things aren't meant to be uncovered. ‘Not every mystery needs to be solved’, as Gale repeated from you once. Good advice, I should follow it.”

Octavia keeps her eyes on the wall, fingers twitching, unsure of what to tell him. She wants nothing more than to be open and honest with him, but how could she? 

“We aren't talking about Gale, Octavia.” Astarion replies. He reaches back out and grabs her hands, steadying them. “You can trust me, but I understand if you don't want to or aren't yet ready to talk about this. Some things take time to come to terms with before you can fully talk about it.” Astarion stands and holds a hand out for Octavia, she takes it and stands beside him. 

“Gale asked to speak with me after hours tonight, would you like to go to dinner with me afterwards? Call it an impromptu outing? Although that does mean you'd have to hang back a bit, I understand if you say no, it was a bit last minute.” Astarion seemed a little nervous himself, as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. It was as if he was trying to comfort her as he comforted himself.

Octavia gives a small mischievous smile, “Well…” she teased, “I did have a pressing matter to attend to after work. Maybe I could fit you in afterwards, I'm a very busy woman, you know.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows raise and he chuckles warmly, “Oh do forgive me, I had no idea I was in the presence of high importance.” He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close, “Can’t you spare some of your time for me?” with his other hand he cups her cheek, kissing her softly before pulling back. “I missed you. Terribly so.” 

Octavia giggles and sighs, she can't help the spell he has crafted into her heart. Her inner thoughts are in a torment, was this genuine or was it part of a centuries long practice? As much as she was scared to confront him, she couldn't deny that she missed him as well.

"I missed you too,” she confessed, turning her head away in bashfulness like a youth with a schoolyard crush. 

“Will you wait for me then? I don't think it will be too long, unless he's going to explain something to me, then we could be here all night.” Astarion chuckles, lifting her free hand to give it a quick kiss. 

Octavia rolls her eyes playfully and pulls away from him. “Okay, I can't keep it up. I know what he wants to talk to you about, and I swear it's not bad. If anything, I think it's a great idea.” 

Astarion’s head quirks back, a curious sound hummed from his throat. “Really? You and Gale agreeing on something again? This should be good.” He crosses his arms and smirks, “Go ahead, fill me in on this idea of his.” 

Octavia smiles, this is Gale’s idea so he should be the one to stake his claim. “No.” she sweetly states, backing away slowly, “You can wait a little while longer." She turns and walks toward her office, leaving Astarion in front of himself. 

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

“Alright, Gale. Just remember what we went over, stick to the main points. This is a good PR move, Athena and Sirilius are big names in the wizarding community so that comes with good patronage, people from all over Faerun will see it, the press will love it…all of that. If you need me to cut in, just say so.” Octavia hands Gale the folder he prepared to show Astarion his sister's notes. 

“I’ll be fine, Octavia. I’ve done these kinds of project proposals many times before, Astarion may look intimidating, but he's not. As long as I explain things succinctly, he’ll absolutely agree.” Gale puffs out his chest as he knocks on Astarion’s office door. 

They hear Astarion’s response and Gale opens the door. 

“Alright, Gale, what are you two planning that was so important that I meet with you after hours?” he asks from behind his massive wooden desk. 

Gale and Octavia sit down across from him, Gale places the folder on top of the desk and shakily opens it. He clears his throat and begins to speak.

“As our busy season comes to an end, the amount of patrons we're expected to have is going to dip significantly. I was thinking about ways we could have some sort of capital to keep the museum in the black until the next fundraiser.” Gale wavered a bit, before continuing on. 

“I was talking to my older sister Athena, and she's getting married-” 

“No.” Astarion cuts Gale off immediately. “Gale, I will not have my museum with very delicate and priceless items be put in harm's way just so your sister can have a party and brag about it.” He waves a hand and looks over to Octavia. “And you! You knew about this? Why didn't you say something earlier?” 

Octavia frowns, she couldn't believe the audacity of Astarion to disregard Gale so quickly. “Excuse me? This is a wonderful idea! If you didn't know, Gale’s sister is marrying into a prestigious wizarding family. They're loaded, and that means all their guests will be as well. This could be a huge opportunity for us to not only do this massive favor for Gale, but to raise the reputation and the possibility of potential donors for the museum! Think about it, Astarion. Think of the money.”  

Astarion folds his arms, leaning back into his chair. “Octavia, do you really think-” 

“No, you don't get to cut Gale off, shoot him down, and then think you can do the same to me. Hear him out, it's a good idea. I won't let you deny him this one favor. Not when he's done so much for the museum. This place wouldn't run half as smoothly as it doesn't if it wasn't for Gale. I’ll help and so will you, don't think you're getting out of this just because you're the boss.” Octavia passionately argues. She wants to help Gale and nothing, not even a patronizing vampire, can get in her way. 

Astarion sighs, “Fine, go on, Gale. Convince me it's not a giant mistake.” 

Gale looks between Astarion and Octavia, he stutters a bit before resuming, “Uh..Athena and Sirilius, her fiance and my..ahem..former friend, were wanting to get married and have their reception here.” He passed Astarion the folder, it was full of pictures, fabric samples, ideas, and countless notes about his sister's preferences and wants. 

Astarion’s forehead wrinkled as he went through the massive file, his face changed in expression as he flipped through it. 

“Your sister has questionable style, Gale. These dresses look like a bard that took up dressmaking and kept adding bells to everything. Gods, some of these are gaudy as hell.” Astarion remarks, eliciting a quiet giggle from Octavia and an irritated protest from Gale. 

“I will have you know, that her style is very much the same as every other woman in my family. Waterdhavian culture is a little more showy than some others in Faerun..my own mother had a cathedral style wedding veil that was covered in black pearls that were sourced from the seas of Waterdeep. We show our pride in our family by having heirlooms pinned to our clothing and having family help us prepare for the wedding. That's why Athena is asking me to do this, why it means so much to me, Astarion, please allow this. I’ll work seven days a week even though the museum is only open six. I’ll do your laundry. I’ll get you one of Grandfather Gale’s spell books from his time adventuring, whatever you want!” Gale was almost begging, he spoke quickly and desperately. 

Astarion could feel the love and obligation coming from Gale’s pleas. He may not like the request, but Gale is one of his most trusted friends. Besides, Gale doesn't ask for much. In the 8 years he's worked with Astarion, Gale has only taken a break once much to Astarion’s chagrin.

Astarion sighs and relents, “Fine.”

Gale’s jaw drops and Octavia’s eyes grow wide, both of them reply “What?!”

“Astarion, are you serious??” Gale breathes out, his eyes show the shock and relief build and crash, the tears begin to form behind them. “I can't believe this. I…I don't know what to say.”

“Start with thank you.” Octavia squeezes his shoulder, in a supportive and comforting touch.

“Yes, of course…thank you, Astarion. I'm so relieved that I can tell Athena that you approved of this! She's going to be so excited!” Gale was practically bouncing in his seat. Octavia and Astarion laughed at his giddiness. Gale inhaled sharply and laughed embarrassingly.

“Sorry, I’ve been worried about this for a minute. Thanks again, Astarion. Oh, and to you as well Octavia. Thank you for having my back.” He smiles, grabbing her hand, giving it an affirmative squeeze. He turns to Astarion and grabs the folder, but before he can pull it away, Astarion grabs his hand, staring him down.

“Hold on Gale. I have some conditions of my own. Go ahead and take your seat, please.” Astarion lets go of Gale’s hand and motions for him to take his seat.

Gale and Octavia shoot each other worried looks and then look back at Astarion. Who has his hands pressed together in front of his face. His eyes shift between Gale and Octavia, before he closes them and takes a sharp inhale.

“Condition one: I want to meet the couple. I need to know who they are, and why they insist on having their entire event here. We shall have dinner at the restaurant we had our last meeting, Gale. Let me know what date works for them.

Condition two: I want to join you and work on this together. Three people would be suitable for this type of event and while I trust the both of you, I feel like this will make things even and less stressful.

Condition three: I want to attend the wedding if I'm putting all this work into it. It's not fair that I'm letting you all use what I consider my home for a little party and not expect me to attend.

Condition four: I get final approval on what they wish to-”

“Absolutely not. You get to consult, but you don't have final say. Athena and Sirilius do. You are not the one getting married, Astarion.” Octavia sternly cuts him off, waving an angry finger in front of his face.

Astarion sulks, he didn't like giving up control, and this was going to be the ultimate test of that. He grumbles and lets out a low growl from the back of his throat. “Fine. But no one goes into the offices, basement, archives or galleries with delicate items or statues. No drinks near the paintings. Food outside ONLY.”

“Fine, you can put up ANY AND ALL safeguards to prevent people from going into places you don't want, Gale and I can assist you with that.” Octavia states firmly. She has had it with Astarion’s aggressive negotiations, if his plan was to barrel over Gale and pull some demeaning power play, he definitely underestimated Octavia’s tenacity.

The air between them felt heavy and electrified with Astarion and Octavia’s back and forth. “If I may cut in?” Gale’s soft voice called out from between the two.

Astarion and Octavia turn to Gale, both of their faces flushed and visibly irritated. “Go ahead, Gale, let's just finish this for tonight.” Astarion huffs, arms crossed defensively.

“My sister did write a note to me in the folder. May I read it to you both? I think this might ” Gale asks, unfolding a small piece of paper.

Astarion nods, motioning Gale to continue. Gale smiles and reads aloud.

“Hello little brother!!

I'm so excited that you actually want to help! Siri and I were just talking about how much we were hoping that you could assist us with this whole venue situation. To be honest with you, I can't think of a more perfect place for us to get married. Not only did Siri and I have our first real date there, but the gardens dedicated to the heroes would be the most fitting place for he and I to recite our vows. Right in front of Grandfather, as if he were giving us his blessing and favor for our new lives together. Write back as soon as you're done with your meeting. I’ve sent Archie along with Ellie, so you have no excuses.

Toodles, little bro!”

Gale folds the note and looks up, smiling with a giant grin. “She's going to be incredibly grateful for this, Astarion. You won't regret it. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a very anxious bride to be to write back to. I will let you both know when she and Sirilius can meet up.” He gathers the folder once more, quickly exiting and leaving Astarion and Octavia alone.

The silence is awkward, they both stay in their seats not looking in each other's direction. Finally, Astarion is the one to break the moment.

“Well, if I say no now, I'll look like a heartless bastard won't I?” He produced a low groan as he laid back in his chair, draping his arms on either side of the armrests.

“Gale has been by your side for almost a decade. He’s given up so much of himself for this place. What he's asking for is not that much in comparison to what he's done for you and the museum.” Octavia flatly replies.

“Are you upset with me?” Astarion asks, his voice a mix of worry and slight annoyance, “Is it because I didn't say yes right away?”

Octavia stiffened a bit and looked away from Astarion, she fought every instinct to interrogate him about what she knew. She settles on a reasonable lie. Shaking her head, she begins to speak in a terse tone. “I can't believe you would question Gale, as if he wouldn't treat this place with the utmost respect?” she folds her arms and turns away from him.

Astarion frowns and gets up from his seat behind the desk. He walks over to Octavia’s side, and sits on the edge of the desk. This position was very reminiscent of their last argument. Octavia’s heart flutters a bit with anxiety, her knees buckle a bit with anticipation.

Astarion leans on the desk, placing his hands at his sides. He gazes down at Octavia with a softened look. “You’re right, but you have to understand. I’m not a terrible person. No matter what my standoffish attitude might tell you. I’m very protective of this place, it’s my home after all, so I hope that you understand if I get defensive.”

Octavia sighs. She couldn't mask her disappointment, but she understood. She quietly asks, “Can we raincheck the dinner tonight? I'm a bit tired from coming back after being away, I think I’d rather go home and turn in.” She turns her head down and looks away.

Astarion places his left hand on her chin and guides her head back. “Has something changed?” Octavia’s eyes meet his, he looks worried. She shifts a little in the chair. “No. Everything is fine.” Octavia replies with a small smile.

Astarion releases his hand from her chin, brings it down to her hand, pulling it close to his lips, and kisses it. “Glad to hear it. You had me worried, dear. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Octavia bit her lip. I bet you said that to her too.

[bbyquokka]

Hey! I hope you're doing well ❤️ first of all I just wanna say I love your work (:

I was wondering if you can do a felix x female reader fluff where he's an idol doing a vlive or tiktok live and his girlfriend just pops in randomly and he's like so distracted by her that he just ends up doing the live with her sitting next to him with the stays just being super supportive of their relationship 😁 I swear I need more idol felix and x reader stuff in my life and you write them so well 😭❤️

hi anon! im going good, i hope you're doing well also! i hope you continue to love my work! thank you for the sweet request, i hope its what you wanted. pls lemme know your thoughts and opinions – i welcome all feedback!

⌢ : ⤹ 💞 going public

→ PAIRING: Lee Felix x fem!reader

→ GENRE: idol!au | fluff

→ SYNOPSIS: you and felix come out to the public about your relationship via tiktok live

→ WARNINGS: pet names [my love, darling] | established relationship

→ WORDS: 1.2k

→ have a request? send it to me here. read my rules to learn about my guidelines before submitting requests!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → ao3

"Hi! Hello." Felix beams, waving to his camera. He sits back in his chair, waiting for more people to join in on his tiktok live before starting it. He fixed his beanie, smiling as the chat scrolled at a rapid pace.

"Hello everyone! I hope you're all doing well." He grins, his eyes flickering as he reads some comments. He's not in his usual setting of being at the JYP building or in a hotel. Instead, his background shows that he is at someone's house. The setting looks cosy, homely.

"Where are you?" Felix reads out loud before laughing, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. "That's a secret." He winks playfully.

Many comments of "Tell us!" and speculation of where he could be, blows up the chat making Felix laugh softly. You come into his vision, behind his camera holding up a clear takeout bag of fried chicken.

You point to it, grinning as if to say "We eat?" Felix looks up at you, smiling warmly before nodding his head causing the chat section to explode even more.

skzfan95: he's probably with his parents or smth

iloveyoufelix: what if he has a gf?! Noooooo! the only person he should be with is me 😤😢

linosbunnyteef: c'mon guys, let Felix have some privacy. he is human after all, we shouldn't poke our noses into it.

"I'll be right back, just give me a second guys!" Felix stands up from his seat, walking out of view. He approaches you as you plate up the chicken and side dishes, his arms wrapping around your waist gently as he plants a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"I've missed you, darling." His words muffled against the skin of your neck, making you laugh softly.

"What do you mean? I've been here the whole time." You say playfully, making him groan.

"You know what I mean." You hum in acknowledgement, leaning back against his chest as he sways you both side to side slowly.

"I've missed you too, lix." You whisper, looking down at the plate of food, "A lot, actually."

"I'm sorry, my love. I know my work days have been awfully long but we have a lot of stuff to plan and do. We have to record, check our choreography, and outfits. All that stuff before our tour."

"I know." You mumble, heart feeling a little heavy at the thought of being away from your lover for a long time.

"Hey." Felix softly speaks, turning you around so you face him. He cups your cheeks gently, stroking them with your thumb, "We can still talk. I'll facetime you everyday! Send you photos and videos. I'll be home before you know it, okay?"

"Okay." You mumble, pouting at him. He laughs softly, kissing your pout gently, "I best get back to the live."

"Do so. I'll bring your food in." Felix nods before returning back to his live. You continue on plating up the food whilst Felix talks about his day with the fans. Grabbing the plates, you walk to him, placing his food down on the table, forgetting about the camera.

hanswaist: what was that?!

ilikecheeze: I saw a hand!! 😱

itsaboutdriving: Nah! Felix has a girlfriend??

Felix notices the comments, a look of horror on your face. You and Felix haven't made your relationship public yet, the very few people knowing are the members. You're lucky enough that they accept your relationship with him; however, fans are a different story.

"Should we?" He looks up at you as you nervously bite your bottom lip.

"What if they hate me..?" You whisper. Felix gives you a reassuring smile, patting the seat next to him.

"They won't, babe. Come, introduce yourself!"

yoh: It's time! we're going to see his gf !! 

minniesblondstreak: I wonder who it is 🤔 do ya think it could be another kpop artist?? maybe someone from JYP???? 😱😱

You scratch the back of your neck nervously before sitting down next to Felix, making sure you're in camera view. Felix kisses your cheek gently, holding your sweaty hand before looking into the camera lens.

"Everyone. This is y/n, my girlfriend. We have been dating for a few months now and we wanted to keep it quiet for a while, but we're ready to go public.”

"Hi. Nice to meet you all." You wave, voice tiny as you feel shy.

You lean forward, reading the comments. Majority of them say hello, accepting your relationship much to your relief. Many others confused, questions flying here, there and everywhere.

lixsfreckles: which kpop group are you from?? 

"Oh, I'm not from any group. In fact I'm just normal." You laugh, "I'm just like you guys. A normal citizen." You intertwine your fingers with Felix's as he lets you answer the many questions that are currently being thrown at you.

hansachipmunk: how did you 2 meet if you're like us then??

"Coffee shop." You laugh softly, "He was ordering coffee for the members and staff. I think he was shooting something, I could be wrong! He lost a bet and had to buy everyone coffee and that's how we met." Felix looks at you loving, kissing your cheek gently.

You continued answering questions, occasionally teasing some of the fans when they would ask for a secret about Felix. The longer time went on, the more comfortable you felt. You'd occasionally tease one another, laugh about memories. Felix being distracted the whole time, his gaze on you. His face soft, eyes filled with love. He rests his face on the palm of his hand, elbow on the table as he watches you laugh and interact with the fans. He looked like a love sick puppy, completely smitten by you and your beauty.

dolphinescream: awe! Lix is smitten by y/n!! 

americanooo: this is so adorable! you can see how much Felix loves y/n!

You read the comments, your cheeks flushing pink You look to the side of you to see Felix giving you a goofy, love sickening grin. His eyes are full of love and admiration for you. A soft, gentle sigh leaves his lips. You smile at him, leaning in and planting a loving kiss on his soft lips. He hums, satisfied with the feel of your lips against his own, reciprocating your movements, your feelings. You pull away, blushing and giggle, like a schoolgirl who is experiencing their first crush.

Before you knew it, an hour had flown by. You yawned, stretching your aching muscles before resting your head on Felix's shoulder.

"Tired?" He kisses your forehead gently. You hum softly, closing your eyes. 

"The chicken was good. I'm stuffed and want to take a nap with you, lix." You whine, pouting a little. Felix chuckled, wrapping his arm around you to hold you closer to him. Maybe comments such as "cute!" and "My turn when??" caught your eye, making you giggle.

"Okay guys. I'm going to go. It's pretty late and y/n is a little tired so we are going to rest a little bit. Thank you all for being here."

You say your goodbyes, waving to the camera as Felix turns off the live. He kisses your lips sweetly, smiling at you.

"How was it?"

"It was good. I'm glad they accepted me." 

"I didn't have my doubts for a second." 

"No?" You question, sitting up.

"Nope."

"Why?"

Felix leans in, cupping your cheeks gently before whispering against your lips;

"Because they can see how madly in love I am with you." 

→ TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @sstarryoong | @purple-belle | @laylasbunbunny | @dilucpegg3r | @chanssmiles

[sadhours]

infected boys 2

billy hargrove x steve harrington

cw: 18+ minors dni, first person pov, internalized homophobia, smut, tommy hagan/billy hargrove, oral sex

summary: billy makes a move, steve doesnt feel the same way

read on ao3

“Show at The Hideout,” I tell him, fucking with my zippo.

He’s sitting on my bed, back against the wall and ankles hanging over the edge of my mattress. Looks sad.

“Can I tag along?” Steve does his best impression of a puppy dog. Big eyes. Pouted lips. I narrow my eyes at him from over my shoulder.

“It’s not really your scene,” I inform him, reaching for my bottle of Aquanet to spray some finishing touches on my bangs. “It’s a metal show.”

Steve groans, I can see him kick his feet like a toddler in the mirrors reflection. Makes me smile, turning to him completely as he knocks the back of his head against my wall, “I’m bored. Please.”

I put my hand on my belt as I keep smiling at him. Steve wants to spend time with me and that realization is pretty exciting. He looks at me with furrowed brows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I laugh, loud and my chest rumbles with it, “‘Cause you’re eighteen and throwing a fit like a petulant little brat.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” Steve rolls his eyes and kicks his feet again for good measure, “Just let me come with. There’s nothing else going on tonight.”

I scoff, “It describes you perfectly. You got a fake ID to even get in?”

Steve’s face flushes, “I’m kind of too known around here to have one. But I’ve gone there before. They serve me.”

I turn back to the mirror, picking up my cologne and splashing a bit on my fingers before dabbing it on my neck and chest, “Hard to imagine you at a place like that.”

He shrugs, stands up from the bed and wanders behind me. Snatches the cologne out of my hands and brings the bottle to his nose, “This stuff smells as cheap as it is.”

I scowl as I tug it out of his hand, “Not helping your case here, asshole. Besides, I get compliments on it. You gotta rely on your daddy’s bank account to get chicks?”

I know it’s not true, ‘cause Harrington’s as pretty as they come. And to chicks, it’s all about the hair and Steve has the best head of it in this shit town. His bimmer helps too, I’m sure.

“No, but it helps,” he rests his chin on my shoulder as he looks at my reflection in the mirror. My face reddens from it and I know Harrington can see it. Makes my whole body tense and I get the urge to push him off but I don’t, because I can feel his breath fanning against my neck as he says, “C’mon. Lemme come. I’ll buy your drinks.”

I chew on my lower lip, stare him down in the mirror because this feels like a come on but Steve’s straight. There’s no way that’s what this is. If it was, he’d grab my waist and he’s not so… what the hell is he doing? Finally, I gather some fucking self control and shrug his chin off of me.

“Fine, Harrington,” I groan and wind my elbow back to knock him in the chest, “You’re such a whiny little shit.”

He grunts from the impact, steps a couple of feet back and rubs his chest. Then he’s smiling and I kinda wanna hit him again.

“Can’t wear that shit, though,” I say as I reach for my pack of smokes, pinching a cigarette out and perching it between my lips. “You look like an ad for the fucking Gap.”

“That’s where I got this shirt,” Steve admits, looking a bit ashamed as he peers down at his striped polo.

Shaking my head, I light my smoke and then walk back to my closet. Scan for options for the guy. For some reason, I really can’t imagine him in a button up. So I settle for a worn black shirt. One I usually work out in, tug it off the hanger and toss it at him. Next, is pants, I’d rather be dead than be caught with a guy in khakis. Black Levi’s I never wear, mostly ‘cause they got a gnarly hole in the ass but that fits for tonight and for Steve. So I toss them at him too before I look down at his feet. Nikes.

“What size shoe are you?” I ask him.

Steve looks like he can’t remember. I confirm it as he sits on the edge of my bed and takes his shoe off, folds back the tongue and looks at the label. Does his mom do all his shopping? How does this man not know his shoe size?

“Uh, 9 and a half,” he says.

“Huh, me too,” I say, suspiciously as I grab my Chucks and hand them over. “Alright, wear that and you can come with.”

“Is this really necessary?” Steve asks with a raised brow.

I blink at him, completely serious as I say, “I’m not walking around with you wearing an outfit your mom picked out. It’s a metal show, Steve. You can’t wear khakis and a polo. I’d have to kick your ass. Keep up my cred.”

Steve makes a face as he takes off his other shoe and then moves to unbutton his khakis and yeah, okay, I’m watching. “What cred do you even have? The fuck does that mean?”

I lean back against my dresser, eyes still on him as he stands and peels his polo off midst wiggling out of his pants. I look at his chest hair. Part of me jealous I can’t grow that much and the other part of me turned on by the tuft of hair. I cross my arms, “I got plenty of cred. People respect me.”

His eyes roll dramatically as he steps into my jeans. His thighs don’t fill them out like mine do but as he turns to pick up the black t-shirt, I notice his ass does. God, it’s gonna make the tear in the jeans bigger. The shirts baggier on him. I’m built thicker than him. Steve doesn’t work out like I do. He goes on runs but doesn’t lift any weights. He sits back on the bed to put on my converse.

He stands and his hair is coiffed too perfectly. And I do something I shouldn’t, because it makes me feel hot with arousal but I snake my fingers into the thick hair and shake it around, messing it up. I like the way his hair feels. I wanna pull it. So I do, to be a dick but Steve hums and when I pull back we just look at each other, blinking and silent.

“We should go,” I mumble out.

“Uh,” he clears his throat and nods, “yeah.”

We take separate cars to his house, just ‘cause I wanna drive and Dad’ll bitch about Harrington leaving the BMW there. So he parks in his driveway and runs over to my car, slides in the front seat and looks at me with a wide smile. Like a fucking golden retriever waiting for a treat. Steve’s excited I let him tag along. It’s pretty cute but I reach over and shove his face.

“Stop looking so happy or I’ll kick you to the curb,” I grumble, “At least try to fit in.”

“What? Metalheads don’t smile?” Steve quips back with a sarcastic frown.

I grab a cigarette and perch it on my lip, light it with my zippo and mumble around the filter, “Nope.”

When we get there, they ask for my ID but let Steve in with no problem. Makes me scowl at him as they fasten the paper wristband on him and then we immediately head to the bar. Take a pair of shots and clink our beer bottles together. I drag him into the crowd as the first band is coming out. The singer screeches into the mic, loud and shrill and it hits me right in the chest. This kind of shit makes me feel something. The guitars wail alive, followed by bass and drums. Has me bouncing on my feet and rocking my head back and forth. Distracts me from the preppy boy who begged to follow me tonight.

The crowd sways violently with the music, pushing Steve and I with it and I grip tightly onto my beer, try to gulp some of it down but Steve gets knocked into me and I spill it down my chest. But I don’t care. I’m buzzing and jumping along. Head banging with the best of ‘em.

Then Steve’s hand is clenching my shirt and his lips are against my ear as he yells into it, “It’s really loud.”

I look at him like he’s stupid because really, the hell did he expect? “No shit, Sherlock!” I yell back and watch as Steve’s face scrunches up in a wince as he gets knocked into again.

And this is fucking stupid, because I feel bad. This isn’t his thing and as much as I’m enjoying myself, I can tell Steve isn’t and I want him too. So I grab onto his shirt and pull him out of the crowd and out of the bar. Into the parking lot where people are just hanging out by their cars. We toss our now empty beer bottles and walk to my car.

“Sorry— that’s like, insane in there,” Steve mumbles and looks ashamed, or guilty?

“Told ya, pretty boy,” I lean against my car and spark up another smoke, “Not your scene.”

“Yeah… that’s for sure,” he sighs and leans next to me, “I should’ve brought my car.”

“Nah,” I shake my head and pass him my smoke, he takes it and his fingers are shaking as he brings it to his lips. “We can go find some other trouble to get into. Nice and quiet for you, pussy.” I grin with the insult, so he knows I’m joking.

“The quarry is always quiet,” he mumbles out, crossing his arms and I nod slowly, taking the cigarette from him and rounding the trunk of my car.

“Let’s go, then,” I tell him.

And we spend the rest of the night at the quarry, until the sun comes up. Just shooting the shit and laughing at nothing. Steve lets me crash at his place.

—

Tommy’s basement is musty as hell. Don’t think his mother’s been down here since he turned 15 ‘cause he leaves his porn stash out along with a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of lotion. Funny, Dad doesn’t want a fag for a son but he’d still whoop my ass if I ever left out of my skin mags. I mean, it don’t take much for him to whoop my ass but the irony ain’t lost on me.

Steve’s busy which is the only reason I’m even at Tommy’s. He’s leaving for college soon. It’s a wonder how he got in somewhere but Steve didn’t. I didn’t even try. Dad’ll only let me attend the community college or a trade school. If I can’t leave Hawkin’s then there’s no point in going to school. At least Steve’ll be stuck here too.

“You been brown nosing Harrington a lot,” Tommy says as he watches me roll a spliff. I’m bound to get a headache, the weeds dry and I spent ten minutes picking out stems from it.

“You sound jealous,” is all I reply with. Tommy’s got a real hard on for King Steve. And he’s absolutely shit at hiding it. Brings him up in like ninety percent of conversations.

Tommy scoffs, crossing his freckle covered arms over his chest as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Knocks off his bottle of lotion but doesn’t move to pick it back up. “Yeah, right. Guys’ fucking lame, now. What the hell do you guys even do?”

I pout as I glance at Tommy, make my eyes as wide and sorrowful as I can muster, “Sad you’re not invited? That it?”

“No. Steve doesn’t even party now,” Tommy huffs, “I’m sure he’s fucking boring.”

“Can you go like one day without talking about Harrington?” I bite back, “Swear to god, you’re like obsessed with him.”

“You bring him up a lot too,” Tommy mumbles and then we both sit there silently like a couple of idiots. But it’s like Tommy gets it or something because he sighs and says, “oh” all dejectedly.

So now we’re two pathetic fucks in love with a straight boy who has no fucking clue. And we both know it.

“What do you guys do?” Tommy asks, quieter than before.

I frown, licking up the side of the rolling paper before sealing the joint and bringing it to my lips, “Nothing.”

I light it, close my eyes as I inhale and tilt my head back when I exhale. The weed tastes old but it’s Indiana. Never as good as the shit back home.

“Nothing?”

“We get stoned, we get drunk, we play basketball,” I list off, “Sometimes we watch movies. He doesn’t like scary ones. We’ve watched Terminator like a hundred times.”

“Steve and I used to do that,” Tommy sounds sad so I hand him the spliff. He takes it and can’t make eye contact with me.

“He’s fun,” I say.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs.

We silently smoke the spliff, sip on our beers in between. Harrington’s heavy on both our minds. I feel all gooey inside thinking about the fucker and from the screwed up expression on Tommy’s face, I know he’s bitter. Butthurt and jealous. Bogarts the joint like a fucking asshole and I keep having to remind him to share. Even if it’s his weed. I rolled it. Tommy can’t roll for shit, told me Harrington would do it for them. I get it and I almost feel bad for the fucker. Steve’s dreamy. He’s good company. He’s all I can think about— he’s all Tommy can think about and that might be more pathetic than me. ‘Cause these fucks have known each other their whole lives. And when Steve talks about Tommy, it’s like he feels sorry for him. But Tommy’s nothing but wound up anger when it comes to Harrington. Anger that Steve didn’t like him back like that.

“You seen Harrington’s spank bank?” I ask, curious if they did what he and I did.

Tommy smiles fondly, sinks further into the couch as his cheeks swell and ruddy, “Yeah. Helluva collection. I was with him when he got his first Playboy. Snatched it from his dad.”

“It’s so organized,” I reply softly, thinking about how my stash is pathetic compared to the both of them. Because I’d rather look at dudes and Tommy is fine with cranking it to women.

Tommy laughs, “He bookmarks his favorite pages. It’s kind of creepy.”

I chew on my lip, wishing Harrington was. Wish he was a fucking faggot, degenerate like I am. Like Tommy is.

“Speaking of,” Tommy sits up, squeezes his knees with his hands and asks, “Wanna put on a tape?”

I look at him, breathe slowly. How do I tell him this shit? Do I even have to? I just wanna jerk off to Harrington these days. I’m not gonna get hard from a straight porno.

“Nah, Tommy,” I shake my head and ignore how rejected he looks. The weeds giving me a headache. I just wanna go home suddenly. But dad’s there and I can’t be stoned in front of him. So I gotta wait until the high wears off.

—

Steve’s parents are away for a weekend. He asks me to spend the night. Says he rented some movies from the video store. But when I actually get to his house, he’s got a record on. Some pop music. He’s got a bunch of juice, fruit, alcohol and cups on the counter. Sways his hips with the music as he cuts up a lime. I’m sure he’s gotten an early start with the booze. Face flushed like it gets when Steve’s drinking. His hair falls down in front of his face and he shakes his head to push it away. The suns lightened his hair, these lighter strands highlighting the thick chestnut locks and fuck, I love it. He’s pretty. Smiles at me as he shakes his hips, I get an eyeful of Harrington’s ass as I round the counter. It’s shockingly fat compared to the rest of him. I rest my elbows on the counter as I look over at the mess he’s making.

“You trying to be a bartender, Harrington?” I tease, looking up at him as his cheeks swell with a smile.

“Something like that,” he slurs, only slightly though. His eyes look so green from the sun shining in the kitchen window. It’s gross. It’s disgusting how fucking cute he looks. Wearing a plain white t-shirt and his retired Hawkins High gym shorts. I wonder if he’s been in the pool today. The red in his face might be a sunburn and not the tequila.

“Wanna try one?” he offers, sliding by me to retrieve ice cubes from the freezer. I get a whiff of him as he passes by and my eyes almost roll back. Steve’s fucking rank but in the sexiest way. What the hell was he doing before I got here? How did he work up so much of a sweat?

“Sure. What have you been doing, Steve?” I ask, chuckling softly, “You smell like a dirty gym bag.”

A dirty gym bag I’d risk getting Athlete’s foot on my dick rutting against.

“I went on a run!” Steve explains, eyes wide and happy as he starts dropping ice cubes in a coup glass. “It was nice, really got a great runners high.”

“Had to take a shot of tequila to come down?”

Steve’s eyes narrow at me, “Billy, if you’re just gonna judge my lifestyle choices, you can go back home.”

“I’m teasing you, pretty boy. Gimme a shot,” I make grabby hands at him, “Lemme get on your level.”

Steve pours me a shot, but pours himself one too. We cheers before we take them. Mama Harrington buys good tequila. Doesn’t leave a bitter taste in my mouth, barely burns down the throat. Steve finishes mixing my cocktail and I hum as I sip it.

“Might have a career ahead of ya, Harrington,” I tell him honestly. “It’s good.”

“I just made it up,” he babbles off an explanation of how he’s made the drink and I’m full of this overwhelming feeling. I wanna kiss Harrington. I wanna pin him against the counter and kiss him stupid. Wanna shove my nose in his armpits and feel him all over. God I’m so disgusting. This is bad. This is so bad.

“Shut up, I don’t care,” I seethe, looking at his lips. They’re so pink and pretty.

“Oh… okay,” Steve visibly deflates.

I fucked up. He was excited about this and I ruined it because I’m fucking gay for him. And mad that I am. I down the cocktail and set it down, “Got any beer?”

“Yeah, in the fridge,” Steve waves his hand and starts to clean up his mess. Brings the dishes to the sink and doesn’t look at me.

I walk over to the record player and turn it off, I know Steve doesn’t own anything good so I’d rather not listen to music. Then I go and pour two more shots, “C’mere. One more shot and we can watch that movie.”

Steve obeys me, still looks all deflated when he stands before me and holds up the shot glass. We down them and stand there, just looking at each other. He looks like a puppy dog. He’s pretty. He’s handsome. Hate how much I like the fucker. But he’s just staring at me. And this ain’t some pissing contest. We’re friends now. So I’m stupid because I think Steve wants to kiss me too.

I lean in, grab hold of Harrington’s waist and crash my lips into his. And fuck. Fuck. Oh shit. I’m kissing Steve. I’m fucking kissing Steve. His lips are soft and… and they’re not kissing back. But he’s not pulling away so I keep kissing him. Try to slip him some tongue and that’s when he pushes me back.

“Oh, Billy…” his eyes are all shiny, “I’m… I’m not gay.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and the idiot keeps babbling on.

“But I’m okay with it! Robin’s gay and she’s my best friend! I’m okay with it, really!”

I don’t say anything. Open my eyes and look at him briefly, before I head for the door. Ignoring the way I can feel the tequila. All I can feel is the rejection and the fact I just outed myself to Steve. I slam the door behind me, not looking back before getting into the Camaro and driving off.

—

I don’t see him for a week. Not until I’m dropping Max off at the arcade. And he’s out front with his gaggle of kids. Smiling and laughing with them. He even waves to me when I pull up but I pretend I can’t see him. I tell Max I’ll be back in a couple hours.

Spend most of my time with Tommy and the fucker can tell something’s up.

“Something happen between you and Harrington?”

“Yeah, he’s a fucking loser,” I mumble, playing with my zippo and pouting. Harrington is a loser. A cute, handsome fucking loser.

Tommy claps his hand on my shoulder, “Glad you see it, now.”

I see it the same way he does. We don’t mention how we were both rejected by the guy. Not a single conversation about how we’re in love. How Steve is pretty and grand and still the fucking King. How a guy like that can never really lose the title. I’m fucking sad about it. Lay awake at night, kicking myself for kissing Harrington. For thinking he was fucking flirting this whole time. I call him. Every fucking night and when his sleepy voice picks up, I slam the phone back on the receiver.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Such a pussy.”

Tommy sucks his teeth, shakes his head and tells me, “You should’ve met him before Nancy. She really changed him. Carol worshiped Steve. Ya know how hard it is to get Carol to worship you?”

“What? He eat her out?” I ask, rolling my eyes and Tommy’s body stiffens. Oh. Steve did, Steve absolutely ate Carol out. Heather wasn’t fucking around. He got the whole vagina owning graduating class.

“Maybe.”

“Heather wasn’t lying,” I scoff and laugh. “Fuck that guy. Weak for some mediocre pussy. Nancy isn’t even that hot.”

“She’s not hot at all!” Tommy raises his voice, jealousy taking over him. It’s kind of cute. I bite my lip. If I can’t have Steve, maybe a fun time with Tommy’ll do.

I knock my ankle into his, “Hey, let’s put on a tape. I’m bored.”

Tommy moves fast, scrambles to slam a VHS tape in the VCR. It’s in the middle, stopped whenever Tommy came. A couple, in a backyard. On a blanket on grass and the guys eating out the woman. I think of Steve. Assume Tommy did too.

I scoot over, thigh flush against Tommy’s once he sits back down. I put my hand on his knee, smooth it up his thigh and turn to look at him. Tommy’s cute. I like his freckles and his lips. So I lean in and kiss the corner of them. He’s quick, moving his head to capture my lips in his. Tommy lets me know he’s desperate with his mouth and I haven’t really kissed a guy since I was home and I.. I hate that I prefer it.

I kiss him deeper, slip him some tongue and squeeze his thigh. The fucker moans into my mouth, sucks on my tongue and turns his body so we’re facing each other. I reel back so Tommy can lay against the armrest and I crowd in between his thighs, cup his jaw as I keep kissing him. Grind down against him and he’s grabbing handfuls of my ass. I’m getting hard, trying not to imagine it’s Steve under me.

He writhes against me, it’s heady. Makes me feel powerful. Wonder if I’m the first guy Tommy’s fooled around with. Can’t imagine him and Steve doing this because it turns me on like nothing else. I pull back and ask him, “You and Steve kiss?”

“Once,” he whispers, pulling me down on him closer. Rolls his hips up.

“You watch him eat Carol out?” I ask.

“Uh huh,” he nods, smoothes his hand up my back and pulls me back down for another kiss. “Jerked off while I watched,” he mumbles into my mouth.

My hips jerk forward on their own volition. I bite Tommy’s lip and pull his hair, eyes on his when I ask, “You ever suck dick?”

“N-no,” he stutters out.

“Want to?”

“Please.”

I pull back and sit against the cushions, “C’mon then.”

Tommy sinks to the ground between my legs, fingers fumbling with my buttons but he manages to get my pants off. Bats his eyelashes up at me, like he’s seen Carol do, I think.

I knit my fingers in his hair and roll my hips up, “Suck my cock, Tommy.”

He groans, it’s low and guttural and I help him get my underwear down. My cock springs out, excited and leaking at the promise of another man’s lips around it. He grabs it, hard. Squeezes the base of it and I moan, letting myself relax. Tommy won’t tell anyone. He can’t admit he did this.

Tommy’s lips are pretty and pink as they wrap around the head of my cock. I’m met with the warm wetness of his tongue. Rubbing against my head. It’s ten fold better than a woman. Tommy’s cute and I forget about Steve for a while. It's easy to be into this. I grab another handful of Tommy’s hair and coax him further along my cock. Groaning when I do and he returns it, voice vibrating along my cock and I feel it in my sack. Can’t help but jerk up at his face, pushing further down his throat.

His hands grab my thighs, lets my hand guide him up and down. Keeps blinking up at him. I don’t last long. Shooting down his throat and he gags with it, spitting my spunk over my cock as he pulls off of it.

“Stand up,” I tell him and he listens. “Get your dick out.”

Tommy’s all dumb, struggling to get his jeans and underwear down to his thighs and I sit up straight as he gets his cock out. I wrap my fingers around the base, hold him steady and get my lips on him. Suck at the head, keep squeezing the base, not allowing myself to imagine Steve because then I’m really gonna suck his cock. And Tommy’s a lot smaller than Steve. But his freckles go all the way down to his cock and I dig it. Think that’s cute. I give him the best fucking head he’s had. Swallow his cum and then feel disgusting after. But the high’s worn off and I have to pick Max up.

Steve’s still there when I get there. I hold his eye contact this time. Flip him off when he waves.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Steve anymore?” Max asks once we’re a block from the arcade.

I snort, light up a smoke and exhale it right in the little brats face, “None of your fucking business, shitbird.”

“He asked how you were doing,” she mumbles, body almost completely facing the passenger door. And she says it so quietly I barely heard her.

And alright, that’s a strange feeling in my stomach. I just laugh though and for some reason, I tell her, “Dude’s such a fucking faggot.”

But maybe I’m talking about myself.

Max doesn’t say anything else.

—

There’s Steve. A woman on his arm. Why he took her to this diner is laughable. I’m in a booth with Carol and Tommy. We make eye contact as him and the blonde sit down. Steve’s facing me and I can see the back of his date’s head. Her perms cheap and the bleach has fried he hair. Steve wears a striped shirt. His eyes don’t move past me or his date. Won’t look at Tommy or Carol but we all meet him with shit eating grins. Ready to fuck with him.

“Harrington bringing his date here instead of Enzo’s?” Carol cackles, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Fucking pathetic,” Tommy agrees.

I frown and pick up a handle of fries, “Harrington knows a cheap whore when he sees one. Picky with daddy’s mastercard.”

Carol and Tommy giggle and I stretch arms over the back of the booth, eyes locked on the pretty ones that belong to Harrington. Chewing rudely on the fries as I formulate my next move. I’m gonna fuck up his date. I just have to figure out how.

I feel the bitter sting of jealousy as I stare at the mess of permed hair taking Steve’s attention. Can’t help but think he’s into blonde curls and how mine are natural and not from a bottle. His body language is anxious. Eyes keep darting from the slut to me. I lick my lips before smirking, showing him my teeth. I wanna walk up, slink into the booth beside Harrington and kiss him filthy. Grab his junk and make out with him in front of this bitch. Hate her because she has something Steve wants. And I’ve been staring at my dick in the mirror, pissed it’s not what Steve’s into.

I light a cigarette, suck on it harshly, hollow my cheeks out. Wonder what he’s been saying about me to his posse of preteens. The jealous and anger bubbles up so much I find my feet stalking over to the couple. I do sit beside Steve and get a good look at this bitches face. It’s pretty. I haven’t fucked her and I wonder if I could steal her out from under Steve right now.

“Hiya, doll,” I wink at her before stretching my arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Nice date?”

She looks stoked, eyes like stars on Steve and I grip his shoulder, pulling him closer as I turn my head to face him, “Why wouldn’t it be? He has it all. Great hair, pretty face and the richest parents in this shithole.”

“I’m having fun,” she giggles out, eyes locked on Steve fucking Harrington. And why wouldn’t they be. His skins clear, bright and so soft. I wanna lick his face as I look at him too.

“I bet you are,” I smirk, move my hand to the back of Steve’s head and card my fingers in his hair, “Maybe he can bring you home and show you his freak porn collection.”

“What?” The girls face falls.

“Oh, yeah. Big ‘ol tub of it. Organized very precisely,” I tell her, unable to hide the grin spreading across my face. I tug on his hair. He looks pissed. “He uses sticky notes as his bookmarks. Man jerks off like the IRS is gonna come audit his spank bank. Huh, Stevie Boy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve mumbles.

“He’s being humble. Must’ve spent a fortune on the collection,” I say as I use my grip on his hair to shake his head. I move my hands to the table and lift myself up, “You kids have fun, now!”

I walk back towards Tommy and Carol and sink back down in the booth, watching as Steve’s date rushes away from their table and the lanky boy follows,

“What did you do?!” Carol squeals, cheeks fluffy and swollen from joy.

“Told her about his killer porn collection,” I say, reaching for my glass of coke with a satisfied smile.

[sky-neverending]

Eddie rockstar au featuring past fwb Steddie who are reuniting to be more?? and an original song I wrote?? Slay! (lemme know if you want me to do a part 2 or post this to ao3?) under the cut cause its a LONG BOI

Eddie grew up drowning out the noise. He was used to covering his ears, to turning up the music. So the screams and shouts of others had grown cold on him, never really affecting the way he lived.

But this? This was a whole different story.

He peeked his head out from behind the curtain, glancing at the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage. The crowd that was there to see him. It was odd, the fact that so many people wanted to be there for him, wanted to hear him make music he used to use as a distraction in his home, and after the fight, in the dingy bedroom of Wayne’s trailer. 

Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the crowd before they could spot him. “What do you think you're doing?” a girl hissed, and he turned around to grin at her. 

“Checking out my adoring fans, Chris,” he joked, running a hand through his curls. “Gotta see if anyone stands out to me, ya know?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but a fond smile crossed her lips. “You go on in 2,” she warned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Good luck out there.”

“I won’t need it,” he responded with a wink. 

As Chrissy walked away, Eddie’s heart started beating louder. Adrenaline and pure anxiety mixed in his veins, a feeling stronger than one he had ever been given by any substance. 

It was show time. The crowd wanted a rockstar? He was going to give them one. 

Stepping onto the stage, Eddie let the roars of the people before him soak in. He threw his head back, taking a long, deep breath before addressing the crowd.

“Are you ready to rock, freaks?” 

The show went on as normal, Eddie playing and singing and basking in the reactions of the crowd. It wasn’t until he got to his final song that he spotted a familiar face in the front row.

“Alright, alright,” he began, putting a finger to his lips. “Everyone hush now.” Taking a deep breath, he looked straight at the first man he was ever in love with. Straight at his high school hookup that could have been something more. Straight at Steve Harrington himself. “This last song is dedicated to someone I knew once. I hope he knows it’s about him.” 

And then he started to sing.

Denim, denim jeans

Polo with a band T hidden underneath 

All the girls wrapped around his finger

But i’m standing just where he can’t see

Midnight kisses and early morning drives 

To the lake down the street where he can hide

Cause you know he’ll never be 

Brave enough to see

That he’s dying simply because he’s living

A lie

He took a breath before launching into the chorus, fingers shaky on his guitar.

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Farah Faucett hair spray 

And a smile that could kill

I think it already did 

But at least I’ll die on this hill

Sayin’ there’s no point in loving if

You can’t love yourself

So walk away, trophy boy

Let them put you on your shelf

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Yeah what else can I say?

The song ended on a solo guitar riff, Eddie pouring his heart and soul into every note. He opened his eyes on the last strum, looking right at Steve and winking. 

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight,” he said, addressing the crowd as a whole. “I can’t put it into words how happy I am to be here. Goodnight, Indy!” And with that he threw up his horns, swung his guitar once around his body, and strutted off the stage like he hadn’t just indirectly confessed his feelings to someone he never thought he’d see again. 

His heart thumping in his chest, Eddie turned to Chrissy with the little hope and prayer he had left in him. “Front row,” he said, “Harrington. Looks the same as he did in school, sticks out like a sore thumb. Bring him back here.” Chrissy raised an eyebrow, but upon seeing his desperation, turned and walked toward the side exit of the stage. It led out to the gates that separated Eddie from the crowd, and he could hear the clatter of them opening as she hurried Steve through before letting the security guards handle whoever else clamored after them.

Curtains fluttering with movement, Eddie held his breath. He watched as Steve stepped through, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. 

“Harrington,” said Eddie, almost a whisper. “I’ll be damned.”

Steve smiled, and fuck if that smile didn’t buckle Eddie’s knees. “Hey, Munson,” he greeted, hands at his sides. “Nice show.”

Laughing, Eddie stepped closer. “Didn’t take you as part of this crowd,” he stated, looking Steve up and down. The faded yellow of his jumper was probably the preppiest thing in the audience, amongst the blacks and rips and chains that his usual fans sported. “You get a girlfriend who’s into our kind of music? Or did you just decide to show up and look like an outcast?” His words were teasing, and he hoped Steve could see that.

“Uh,” Steve pressed his lips together, looking at the ground. “No, Robin dragged me down here. Said it would be good for me to get out of my comfort zone… and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Eddie repeated with a grin. “Not going to lie to you, Stevie, I didn’t think you and the band geek would last.” He tried not to let jealousy seep through his tone. 

With the kick of his foot, Steve’s shoulders loosened. “She’s not the band geek I’m after, trust me.” He looked Eddie directly in the eye. “I messed up, Eds.”

Eddie stared at him. “What?”

“I messed up, Eddie Munson,” Steve repeated with intent, “and I want to make things right.” He advanced, tilting his chin up just the slightest bit. “I shouldn’t have hidden from you. I shouldn’t have turned you away, and I’m sorry. And that song-” he paused, biting his bottom lip, “God, Eddie, you have some real talent.”

“It took a song about you for you to realize that?” Eddie joked, and Steve rolled his eyes in response. He sighed, reaching a hand up to Eddie’s cheek. The touch was tender, sweet, all the things Eddie had dreamed of when they’d been apart.

“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and let me take you out on a date.”

Heart lurching, Eddie’s face broke into a grin so wide it was painful. “What’s in it for me, Harrington?” he asked slowly, leaning into the touch. “I’m a rockstar now, why should I go out with you?”

“Because I asked nicely?” Steve whispered, curling his hand and letting the tip of his nails trail down Eddie’s cheek. “And because I want to make things right?”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Ever the romantic, sweetheart.” His tongue pressed up against his cheek, like he was contemplating the question. He wasn’t. “Sure, I’ll go out with you. Meet me behind the venue in half an hour?”

Steve nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “I need to go talk to Robin, I owe her money.” With that, he pulled away, leaving Eddie longing for his touch again. “I’ll see you later,” he called out, walking with Chrissy toward an exit that would lead him past the crowd. 

Eddie watched him leave, a smile on his face.

He had himself a date, and all it took was one little song.

[escape-from-reality-reads]

Guiding

Hey lookie here another Molly fic!

Slight warning for swearing and a drunk guy who can't take a hint.

Mollymauk x reader

Find on AO3

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

Tavern bugs were all the same; creepy, slimy, and talented at making people uncomfortable with no effort at all. The idiot who decided to move to the seat next to you when he had been sitting at the other end of the bar the second you got your order in was no different. 

You clocked him as he attempted to stand from his original seat, almost falling in the process and stumbling the entire way to his destination. He reeked of cheap beer and looked as if he decided that bathing in said cheap beer was the latest beauty trend. You could tell this was going to be less than pleasant.

“Why hello gorgeous, what are you doing in a place like this?” The slurring was almost as bad as his smell. You took a step to the side, watching him from the corner of your eye while silently willing the barkeep to move faster with the drinks you requested. “None of your business, I’m just getting a drink.” 

The man leans towards you. “C’mon now don’t be like that, I’m sure I can make your night more enjoyable than this shithole.” You glance at his hand that’s now moving to touch your leg before taking your own hand and shoving it into a pouch on your other hip, rubbing the piece of copper wire placed there, swatting at the drunkard’s hand once the spell is cast. 

“I would very much prefer you not touch me at all sir. I’m not interested and my group is patiently waiting for their drinks.” Your eyes glance over the drunk’s head to the table beyond where the recipient of the spell has tensed and snapped his head to look your direction. Your eyes are pulled back to the bar as the keep lays down the four drinks that were ordered. You thank her and start gathering your drinks as the man goes to reach for them. “Come now lemme help you with those.” 

“Oh, rest assured that’s not necessary.” You relax as the lightly accented words leave Molly as he reaches and grabs two of the cups, wrapping his tail around your ankle unconsciously. “They have all the help they need. Why don’t you go back to what I know is your spot back on the other end of the bar.” You hear the tone go slightly darker but the man doesn’t have the brain cells anymore to hear the same. Instead he puffs up his chest in a way that would have been intimidating if he wasn’t swaying like a leaf in the wind, nonetheless the motion makes Molly tighten his grip on your ankle slightly. 

The man starts to talk only to fall to the ground, leaving Jester standing behind where he sat. “You know if you're that drunk you should really go to sleep.” She glares at the man, discreetly removing her own tail from the foot of his previously occupied stool to avoid suspicion. “Who knows what could happen to you when you’re drunk to the point of falling off a stool with no effort.” 

The man, having his brain finally notice that you weren't alone and well watched, stumbled his way to his feet grumbling before making his way back to his original seat and leaving you three standing with your drinks. 

“Thank you.” 

“No need! Honestly someone should have come up with you, these cups are really big.” Jester says, grabbing the cups that Molly had and making her way back to the table. Molly’s tail unwraps from you as the two of you start that direction as well. 

“Lucky you had wire on you. I thought you gave the rest of it to Caleb.” 

You shrug. “I try to keep some on me just in case something like that happens. It comes in handy when you don’t want to be too obvious your calling backup.” 

“That’s smart. Could‘ve used that trick once or twice myself.” Once you sit down the conversation picks back up as the crew asks for details of what happened, Molly’s tail finding its way back around your lower leg.

----

A few hours later you make your way to the room you’re staying in with Molly, his arm lightly wrapped around your waist. You laugh quietly as you enter the room piquing his interest. 

“And what do you find so funny?” 

“Did you notice earlier that you were wrapping your tail around my ankle?” 

Molly tilts his head. “I did no such thing darling.”

Your head snaps around to look at him. “Oh don’t play that game! When you came to the bar you did it, when we sat down you did it, and you’ve done it in the past as well. Every time we’re in a situation where you can wrap an arm around me your tail finds its way around my ankle.” 

Molly frowns, only to have it negated by a look of mischief in his pupiless eyes. “Huh, I’ve never noticed. My apologies darling, I'll keep my tail to myself if it's such a distraction.” 

You laugh. “I never said that you had to stop. To be honest I don’t know if you could seeing as you didn’t realize you were doing it. To be honest I think it’s cute.” 

The frown turns to a smirk as he moves his tail to rub against your calf. “Oh, then maybe I should do it more often then.”

“Long as you don’t trip me I have no issues with it.” 

The smirk turns into a full out smile. “Oh you mean like this. He quickly wraps the tail around your waist, pulling you close to him before his arms take hold  where the tail had been. 

“You and I have very different ideas of what ‘tripping' means sir.” You lean into Molly as he looks down at you. “But that’s an acceptable move as well.” 

Molly’s gaze softens as he leans down for a kiss that you happily give, his tail curling around your lower leg. This time completely on purpose.

[capcavan]

I want to know about all the rps except mukade becuz I'm frightened of bugs so I'm scared what might be revealed to me 😭😭

honestly yeah you DO NOT want to know that one lemme pick few 4 you Two Raven Kings one of my personal favourites actually it's aftg/TRC crossover instead of shooting riko ichirou sends him to study in hendrietta, away from exy and everything that was making riko's world *his*- as we find out later this is the school he himself attended riko is looked after by assistant named Taki (my li love note to ao3 fanfic Brothers 🥺), meets kavinsky and blueballs him because the man looks too much like kevin and Riko decide he will avoid all kevin looking ginger looking and blond looking men which leads him to meet Declan Lynch (and will carry bad consequences) - riko kind of replaced blue the boys still go to the house for some tarot readings - riko tries to get private reading to talk to his dead mother but when he reveals that his question is "did she loved me " the women shot him down and tell him to just go home. - riko shows those lacrosse bitches how it's done sorry cant say more just know that declan spend at least 1 week thinking he hooked up with guy who killed someone in prizon because Declan thought the 1 under his eyes was like tear tattoo Two of Them Riko has twin brother who spend his life living in one room of moriyama mansion kept there specifically as organ donor for ichirou and kengo , after ichirou causes kengo's death to help his brother , the Riko2 who is also called Riko because this family doe snot care to let people be people tells him to fuck off and goes to meet Riko1 feeling entitled to his attention and relationship as his twin, he end sup meeting foxes who inform him that riko1 (already part of fox lineup in this au) is currently on suicide watch in psyh ward and spend few days with this absolute oddity (kevin and riko2 nearly get into a fight 3 times over the title of riko's brother) The biggest fan Riko and Kevin get kidnapped right before the final game in TKM and driven fuck knows where where they get locked in basement of some ultra rich man who wants to keep them as collectors merchandise, they have underground apartment all for themselves with room service and all their needs meet. Riko realises in that moment that this is how heaven feels like , nobody beats him here there is no pressure here , it's his ticket to chocolate factory - kevin is with him too and he can not leave him ever again. Kevin though been out of nest for 2 years now he wants to see his father and his friends again and if he wont convince riko to get out of this mess he will ave to work against not only the kidnapper but his brother too.